Tag Archives: Philip Strevor

transference

“Yes, thank you Penn Mann. But we kind of already *knew* where the mound was on this sim map.” Waste of thin space he sometimes is, she thought to herself, but only huffed outwardly.

Embarrassed, Penn Mann moved away from the map and propped himself back up against the wall beside Dr. I.C. Yourinsides. After considering the next step, he thought into their heads again. “Give me your idea of how Tronesisia — Sissy — and this Rocky being I hadn’t met until yesterday’s rehearsals — fine fellow, though — tell me how they knew about Billy’s secret hideout. Any clues?”

“We don’t *need* clues, Penn Mann. Mr. Director.” Dr. I.C. blew out air again. “It *happened*. Tronesisia and Rocky noticed that there were 3 extra prims on the property the other day. They’re very meticulous about counting, since they leave full building permissions on that property for the various entertainers passing through. They used remote viewing to pretty quickly find the cube, the most solid and rounded of the 3, just under the floor of the nightclub. This led (them) to the other two objects linked to the cube — the copy of ‘I, Robot’ by another Carter person apparently [sic], and then the Jimmy Carter cutout that represents Billy’s *real* brother, or what he takes to be his real brother anyway. It’s all brainwashery, though: the alien disguise, everything. He’s really human through and through in this production. But he’s not really a he.”


“So it *is* you.”

Penn Mann considered this as well. “What about the public urination, then, the pissing with the [delete name]? And Mr. Yellow. Or Yellows, 2 of ’em. He drank the special brew, but is then discovered pissing it back out at that public landing spot for Wallytown, all out in the open and all. But it takes two Mr. Yellows, combined, to accomplish this. What does that mean?”

Dr. I.C. threw up her hands, then figuratively punted. “You take it Spocari Nemoy.”

“Captain,” admonished Nemoy. “Use the title when speaking to me in this war room. I outrank you.”

Dr. I.C. blew him a raspberry with this. “Go ahead then, *Captain*. Give our Director Mann a dose of some more truth. He wants fiction, we give him reality back.” She turned to Penn Mann again. “All this *happened* to us — get that through your thin, ink filled head.” She looked him over. “Which side is your head anyways?”

“Biker Chick,” went Penn Mann on a tangent again in their heads. He had this in common with his Urbane Blue director doppleganger: Eraserhead Man. Without eyes, without mouth, he turned his attention to the black and pink clad woman sitting beside Nemoy, who was markedly leaning in the opposite direction from her, obviously uncomfortable with her presence here. “We seem to need a fresh perspective on this,” Penn Mann thought. “Give us what you think.”

Dr. I.C. Yourinsides spoke up again. “Biker Chick doesn’t know anything; she has just arrived.”

“Nevertheless,” insisted Penn Mann inside their heads. “I am *still* the director of the production, despite what you may think, Good Doctor.”

“Oh Lord,” she exasperated. “Go ahead, then, Biker-Chick-still-not-even-with-a-name-yet. Tell us what you got.”

“Heidi,” she piped up in a thin voice after a pause. “My name is Heidi.” But Nemoy and Yourinsides both realized it was actually Penn Mann speaking *through* this person. She looks down at her hands, wiggles them around. She reaches up and touches her face, her eyes, her mouth.

And then she touches something else. “How do you like *these* apples?”

Spocari Nemoy started to feel red-blooded again. This is what he didn’t like about biker chicks, among many other things. But this above all else. What would Marlon Brando do? he thinks for not the first nor last time.

He makes a mental note to schedule another regeneration session with Lt. Gunnhead asap.

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Filed under *Second Life, Wallytown/Fishers Island

no brainer

“Ground Zero, my friend,” spoke Philip over the music. “Ground Zero.”

Staring at the Jack Daniels whiskey bottle in front of him, Marion nodded.

“Over the Rainbow” and “On the Run” combined.

—–

That last track was simply beautiful, Tronesisia. It’s as if Judy Garland came back from the dead and took the mic again.”

“Thank you. My friends call me Sissy. Please. Call me Sissy.” She winked her robotic blue eye seductively at Philip Strevor. Then she did the same to Marion Harding seated beside him, except with the other eye. Two blue eyes.

“And your Pink Floyd rendition, Rocky. What can I say but wowzers. Wowzers! You both are so great.”

“We appreciate it,” chipped in bass voiced Rocky Rocco, who hasn’t been seen since way back in Collagesity novel 6. “I had an excellent teacher for that one.”

Tronesisa nodded in agreement. “Excellent indeed.”

Rocky leans over and pats Tronesisia’s silver knee. “And you too, dear.”

Tronesisia suddenly gets a sad, faraway look in her eyes. “It is so, it is so.”

“Sooo… let’s get down to business.” Unglueing his gaze from the bottle still in front of him, Marion Harding opens the briefcase full of money.

“L$50,000,” said Philip without looking. “It’s all we have right now.”

“That will do,” returned Tronesisia.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” agreed Rocky quickly. Tronesisia and Rocky steal a winning glance at each other.

—–

“He’s in here.”

“God I hate spiders, Marion. You go first.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Wallytown/Fishers Island

Billies

“I’d like to hire you for a job Detective Strevor. I’m looking for my brother. Billy.”

What a peculiar thing, thinks Philip Strevor before answering. *I’m* looking for a Billy.

“I’ll take the case.”

—–

“Got a job today, Marion. Looking for *Billy*.”

Marion Harding stared at the tv screen a bit. Then: “*Our* Billy?”

“Dunno.” Philip Strevor shifted his weight on the couch. “Go ahead and hit unpause. Just wanted to tell you that before we got into the whole atomic bomb thing.”

“Have to think about that one.”

“Yep. Sure will. Find out soon enough, I suppose. If I can find him.”

“Her,” Marion Harding corrected. He picked up the remote.

“Yup.”

The explosion continued.

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Filed under *Second Life, Wallytown/Fishers Island

heavy

“These pills are pretty good, Axis. Tasty. Say the Silver King machine just appeared over there tonight? Right before I arrived?”

“Right, Big Red. It’s an honor to have you here, by the way. The abduction process wasn’t too painful, I hope. Sometimes it is to those with the wrong energies.”

“Not atall. Time doesn’t exist here, eh?”

“Nor Beach,” completes Axis. “Only, um, Middle.”

Yes, he realizes. This is Middle. A new sandwich with something else inside; something beyond the spinning 78.

A sandwich appeared in Big Red’s mouth, loaded with innards.

“Interesting,” chirps Axis.

—–

In a control experiment, the next abductee was asked to read a specific chapter from a red book and found it fascinating and loaded down with meaning.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Eden, New Island, Purden/Snowlands

net worth

The couch here is unusable, with no sitting scripts. Tired of standing, Bill (Wheeler) rezzes a wearable chair in Philip Strevor’s so-called “waiting room” and tries to be patient. 1 1/2 hours Mrs. Hazelhurst has been in there, she complains inwardly, but does not dare to say aloud. This place has been bugged for as long as she can remember.

—-

The Boss was admiring his mermaid cabinet when Bill walked in. She had not seen Mrs. Hazelhurst in the hallway but had heard the shutting door. Bill figured she exited through the lounge.

“Red, green, blue,” he began, describing the string of shiny, netted balls immediately before him. “The mermaids and mermen called them marbles for some reason.” He turned to face Bill. “How can I help you today?”

Bill crossed her arms. “You called *me* here. Remember?”

“Oh yes. Of course.” He waved for Bill to be seated. He took his place in The Boss’ chair. “I’m sorry there’s no chair available. The maid took it off for cleaning.”

“That’s all right,” Bill said matter of factly. “I came prepared this time.” She rezzes her wearable attachment again and automatically has a seat in it. She then positions herself so she can face Philip squarely.

“Rat lost his property in the Pond District,” he then said, appearing to scan the photos on the bulletin board beside him. “Owner came back and returned his vanity, his ratmobile. Now why would someone squander a perfectly good piece of property beside that beautiful Linden right of way, not rezzing a house, a farm, nothing?”

“They don’t appreciate what they have,” offered Bill. “They don’t understand the beauty, the loveliness, of Our Second Lyfe.”

“Perhaps.” He leans forward, looking down to consider and then up again. “We made your chess move while you were away playing that role. “Pawn to King 3. I hope you don’t mind. We figured we couldn’t keep Ellen waiting any longer.”

Bill felt the anger rising within but bit her tongue again. “I see,” she managed after a weighted pause. “And has Ellen had time to respond? Or is he still stuck on the beach?” She tried to smile but found she couldn’t.

“The New Island beach, yes,” Philip Strevor said nonchalantly. “The Hook I think they call it in that Moth Man’s book. He removed his web site because of us, you know. Didn’t like the idea of another New Island besides his own. The one *he* owns the trademark for. A public/private domain affair again. I have a whole drawer full of those kind of documents.

“I know,” replied Bill. “She then glances at the money and Philip follows her eyes. “Still haven’t put away that wad of cash, eh? Gloating at the clientele, are you? Like me.”

“No,” Philip said. “That a new stack. Mrs. Hazelhurst graciously gave it to us in return for her safe passage to Zindra. Lots of people leaving this place, Wheeler, er Bill. The axemen and swordsmen and their ilk can’t keep them here forever. Soon enough, people cave in on paying the price. Your friend Roger Pine Ridge is next, if you ask me.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree there, I think. Roger doesn’t have any money. Cyberpaperdoll got out of the village with that cash they made from the (ruby) slippers heist. Roger thought Iris would be safe — away from prying eyes over at Collagesity. He was wrong.”

Philip settled back into his seat, getting comfortable. “I know all about that. We don’t want his money, we want his *time*. Though brain damage could come later.”

“Hmm.” Bill paused, then: “How much time does he have?”

“Two, three, four weeks on this?” Philip answered as a question.

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Filed under *Second Life, Iris

meeting

Bill (Wheeler) always dreaded going to see The Boss. It was a scary walk through the Red Curtain Hallway, for one. And at the end: The Venus Door. What could Philip want from me today?

—-

Both look at the pile of money stacked up on the marble table. “As you can see, life’s been good lately, Bill. But you’ve been neglecting me.”

“Now tell me all about this chess game you’ve been playing.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Iris

Clemscott

“The more I look at Greenup 03, Broken Heart, the more I think it is about Spica just above the celestial equator turning into Vega and igniting brighter in the process, like, um, an ant being burned by a magnifying glass. Tonya Two Egg — the close Spica binary star — is stuck like unto a frying pan in the Horizons-Spica sim which is actually the Horizons-Vega sim, unable to remove herself from intense scrutiny. The ice fishing shack is a time and space portal. Can she reach all the way back to VHC City and heal the wound?”

But Broken Heart is instead staring toward Greenup 02 on the opposite wall, thinking:  This is you, Jacob I. my friend, my comrade. Prince Martin. Will you be able to heal *yourself*?

—–

“All the dreams reaffirm the same location and the same needed action, Mary,” Pitch speaks from the viewing platform after parking the freshly stolen orange beetle at the appropriate spot down below.

“It all makes sense now: apple, orange, yellow fruit — banana…

… and then the giant lime on Merlin’s Mound — thank you Wheeler Wilson!”

“You’re welcome!”

“This is clearly ‘Floydada’, the start of ‘Pumpkintwisters’ analysis.”

“Nifty,” Mary replies while beginning to eat a peach.

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Filed under *Second Life, Clemscott, Gaeta V, Purden/Snowlands