Tag Archives: Rodentius^*++

February 7, 2026 · 8:01 am

00490312 (sideways (foreshadowing))

Q:

Are you Happy?

A:

Yes, I am Happy.

Q:

Pleased to meet you. Is everyone around you Happy?

A:

Let me check.

With this, he sees beyond himself for the first time. He sees… a gallery.

—–

“My Second Lyfe is over, Philip,” he spoke to the pillow at his bosom. “Banned. I should have never descended from reality to this *illusionary* place.”

“No, Philip,” says the pillow, because they both have the same name, one taking turns with the other as in any good ventriloquist act. “The energy of Rose Heaven here has entered the sphere of Rodentia and lives on accordingly. And Rodentius of course, the male at the center of the feminine circumference in this case. That’s why he has that bit of brown to add to the predominant white. That’s the rogue brown Thornwood sim here. I’ll take it from you.” SLIIIIIDE.

Philip, the bigger one still clutching the littler one, turns in his chair at the noise. “Oh,” he says staring over at the back corner of the Rose Heaven Yarn Shop he sits in the middle of on his own little island. “Another case, eh?”

“Yes.”

Happy stares too, knowing a certain book is involved, perhaps a journal. Philip turns back into Jeffrie. TBC

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February 3, 2026 · 8:04 am

00490305

She looked over at the files that go with the painting before leaving the door, debating in her head whether to throw that into the deal as well — as a sweetener. If only she had a copy… or a copier. “Wheeler… is that a last name? Or first? Or some kind of nickname, I don’t know.” In his chair, Arthur struggles against the tight ropes to no avail. She’d tied him down good. Old girl scout, let’s say.

“Wheeler is a way of life,” she answered cryptically. “Wheeler is something that goes and goes only to circle back in on itself again. Wheeler is love; Wheeler is… truth. Wheeler is. In short: I don’t know either,” and she emits a soft chuckle with this.

Arthur is shaking his head now. “First you appear to be someone I know, then you knock me out — don’t know how you got the drop on me so quickly.” And here, Arthur laments being overpowered by a woman again. A man would have been bad enough. He puts great pride in his strength and agility. Maybe she’s some kind of athlete, Arthur ponders, struggling once again in the increased frustration. Or a *witch*. He’d heard about such creatures roaming the streets of St. Dennis at night. And also over in the swamplands. “Then, you drag me in here,” he continues after finding the ropes as tight as ever. Arthur then looks around, sees the car tires, sees other objects he doesn’t understand. “Where are we anyway? This almost looks like it’s not St. Dennis any more.” How long was I *out*? he thinks.

“It isn’t,” says Wheeler. “We’re in a place called Rodentia formerly complemented by a giant white — and brown — rat named Rodentius, a male for the female. Yet Rodentius has left the scene. Giant bathroom in the sky is all I’ve got so far.”

“Nonsense, lady, er, Wheeler,” Arthur quickly decides. But he’s shaking his head still, trying to absorb. “And what about that *painting* you mentioned, the one I could trade for. Answer me!” His frustration had spilled over into rage. He’d reached a limit of whatever patience he had left.

Wheeler kept silent. “You’ve had enough for today, Arthur. I’ll come back tonight and we can talk more about the 2n1. I’ll let you cool down for a while.” TBC

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January 30, 2026 · 1:10 pm

00490301

A gateway or portal up on the hill, unintended by the Starfield creators most likely. A random conjunction of 2 procedurally generated trees.

And then a “green man” staring at me from a nearby grove of alien trees as my camera angle moves down. We’re on Nesoi now, 5:21:28 into our 7 hour+ journey across the planets, 7 in total but standing in for many many more.

And this only 9 minutes after I, through Gemilly Niceniece here, spotted the similar “Schrodinger’s Man” as recorded in section 1 of this photo-novel. Different planets, but still close in time through our straight line journey.

Then just beyond that green man we have these “plant people,” reinforcing the peculiarities. A cluster we might call it? (TBC?)

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January 20, 2026 · 2:03 pm

00490210 (all encompassing toilet (Schrodinger’s Man too?))

That’s it, she thinks. I’m going in to check on him, single room bathroom or not, this so-called water closet of the Paperback Pixels Cafe of the town of Paperville alternately called Pageville. I’ve tried at the “door” once. Curtain… whatever. Said he’d be only a minute and that he only needed to do a number 1. 15 minutes to drink a 4 shot latte and then 20 minutes to pee it back out? Didn’t make sense. One more time with the call.

“Rodentius? You all right in there? I — I’m starting to get worried. I’m… coming in. On the count of three — get ready! One….. two…..” TBC?

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January 18, 2026 · 3:00 pm

00490204 (bottoms 02 (all cracked up))

She hadn’t tried in 100s of days, maybe 100s of weeks. She was tired of pussyfooting around. “Permission to come aboard!” she shouted over in as confident of a tone as she could muster given the circumstances. No answer for a while, maybe 100s of seconds, then: “Permission DENIED.” The old, crusty sea chaplain turned captain who didn’t know when to give up himself wanted to reply immediately but was fixing a hole on the starboard side (away from her and also you, the reader or readers) and couldn’t be bothered at first. But: one hole fixed and two more appear, it seems, like apples for banana. He contemplating just ignoring the poor, foolish girl, standing over there probably in just flesh and bits of white, like she does (he imagined). The man: only red. But still he knew they were man and wife, as close as one could get without multiple marriage vows. He had to hold himself partly responsible. Given that he was the one who married them, way way back in the day. “Go AWAY. We’ve said our bits, our parts. It’s up to YOU to make it work.” Red and white red and white, he thought. Surely they can better coordinate all that, divide the hues up in a fairer, more democratic way. And *not* have to enter his unrepairable *republican* shipp, pheh. No, he would stand steadfast against change (what was he *thinking*).

“I KNOW who you are,” she tried again. “You will NOT get this shipp with its broken rigg and all to float, no way jose. Not without MY help.” (TBC)


dreams of repair

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December 23, 2025 · 11:24 pm

00490104 (Schrodinger’s Man?)

No, not Gemilly Niceniece dominating the icy scene we’ve already seen walking across a different planet in post one of this here newest photo-novel, 49 in a series of infinity (infinity?). Instead: the background “figure”, peering over rocks it appears. A silhouette once more but small, more submissive and open to interpretation. Is it a man, a person? Or… something else. I’d personally give it about a 50-50 chance either way in the present.

I’m reminded somehow of this from photo-novel 36 — yet more Kentucky, hmm.

And I’ve seen the “illusion” before while walking around these number of planets through this particular BD, 7 hours and 7 minutes and 11 seconds long it is. And this coming exactly at the end of the 55 minutes and 14 seconds Schrodinger III section of the video. We’ll see how it develops moving forward (and forward (and forward)).

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December 22, 2025 · 4:13 pm

00490103

Per more cues in KY, she’d merrily adorned herself with ribbons and bows up and down, from the top of her new festive haired head to the bottom of her new festive shoed toe — toes. Bought for the season would be their reason, on the surface. Then she came back to the Rodentia Assembly Hall intending to give assumed ever-listening Rodentius the giant white rat with a bit of brown to keep him honest another show of information, holiday style. She even brought her Rudolph bulb along for good luck; it now lit the single room hall as much as the sci-fi floor lamp that also tagged along with her.

“What Christmas means to me,” she started after taking the podium, trying not to glance into his corner too much. Nervous for some reason! It was only a big rodent, though. Nothing more. “AHEM… Christmas, to me, to myself, to… I…” Stumped, she looks down here, saw the color highlighted in so many ways on her arms, torso, legs, feet. “… means *red*; yes, red. And Santa,” she followed, thinking of another red dominated being. “But not *Satan*, not 666.”

“Good one, ha!” Rodentius enthusiastically encourages from his thought-to-be ever-corner in the hall, named for what he would call his better, female half which represents the whole virtual town surrounding them on all sides and then some. “Keep it coming!”

—–

But suddenly, just like that, there was no one in the assembly hall except Wheeler, who just stood there alone, awkwardly dressed for the occasion. Should have been a more somber attire, black instead of red, the other half of the equation as it turned out. Black for the empty chair revealed by the vanished big, non-anthropomorphized rodent, just an oversized but otherwise very ordinary animal with no human form to him atall, or so she thought. Black for absence itself. Loss of a friend.

Rodentius is *always* here, she panics. Why now, why just before Christmas of all times of the year? Why did he have to go… so SOON?!


She turns back to the chairs of the assembly hall after staring quite a while at the corner bereft of soul, of consciousness, trying to reorient herself after this shocking discovery. Then she imagines the red chairs being filled with not humans but aliens to balance things out, a show of planets to repopulate a darkened universe. Like here:

Planets you don’t even know the names of
Planets, you don’t even know their names

Yes, this helps, she thinks. Mars, the first red planet as it were, was just a beginning. Black and red together makes more sense on this special special day. Absence. And presents. TBC

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November 12, 2025 · 4:43 pm

00480508

“And so you see you couldn’t help your father because there’s nothing wrong with me and everything wrong with him. So you were right to run him over in your car while the old fool stood helplessly exposed in the middle of Route 9 over there. Like you hit him with a bullet in the past in, what was it, 1785?”

“More like the late 1800s I think,” said Alice Tart to her mother Wheeler Wilson, finally together for that talk about the recently deceased Mouse. Overdue, as are a lot of things in life. Better attend to the important stuff before death.

“I– met the town leader I think,” she then revealed, “this Rodentia of the continent of Jeogeot of the metaverse of Our Second Lyfe,” she expanded needlessly. Like assigning a particular color to white.

“Oh. The male?”

“Yeah, the embodiment thereof.”

“What was he like?” said the curiously non-surprised Wheeler at this turn. She knew that behind the female there’s always a male, often in the same body whether virtual or real, or figuratively if not literally as was the case here.

“What you would suspect, I suppose. A big rat, but with brown markings on top of the white. Add in a bit of color.”

“Chocolate to vanilla,” said Wheeler, translating hues into flavors. “What did you say to… this rat?”

“I confessed *everything*. He seemed very pleased. I supposed I owed him that, using his town, his *female* half, for a good number of posts already. He kind of trapped me in retrospect, drew me to the assembly hall that was his sanctuary. So I just explained everything.”

“Pleased, you say?” Wheeler takes another puff of her cigarette. She’d already offered one to daughter Alice who refused. I wonder if she– no, can’t be. Can it?

“Yeah, pleased. He’s probably still over there if you want to pay him a visit. Checking… checking… yeah, green dot still there. He’s waiting for us… when the time comes.”

“When the time comes,” echoes Wheeler then inhales more smoke. TBC

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October 8, 2025 · 2:35 pm

00480306 (Lauren (Gays Mill sandwich w/ variant meats inside))

I dropped my light on the floor when seeing him in the corner, startling me. A white rat with brown in his coloring now, unlike Pansy who was pure light. Vanilla *and* chocolate. And he was just a big rat which differed from Pansy too, who had human qualities to his makeup, anthropomorphic as mentioned before. “Tell us your story,” he hissed in his rat way, “oh golden gloved one.” I knew what he meant. They had the general idea about what was going on with me, what I represented. Rodentia had a right to know?

So I stood behind the podium illuminated by the repositioned light, told my story, what the heck. Beginning with the new hair. Fabulous! Talk about the Hills, the big white and brown rat requested early on. So I explained that too. It was long winded, starting with 6’8 Grant Hill of the 1990s Duke basketball team who played with another Hill named Thomas standing 3 inches shorter. “Some say that he was merely Hill’s Hill,” I said about the latter, who was a good and decent player in his own right but not the star Grant was. “This naturally led to Missouri and the Thomas Hill (village) there, and also Taum Sauk Mt., the highest in the state. Obvious synchromystic reference to famed fictional character Tom Sawyer who also came from that state. And Pat and Mike in the middle — that indicated Mike, that indicated Coach (K.).” Rodentius, for that is what he said his name was somewhere along the way, nodded with this, seeming to be pleased with the revelations so far. “There’s also Denver’s variant name of Grant’s Hill up in the northern part of Missouri, another way to say Hill’s Hill. Then there’s Siloam but I can’t speak fully about that. Gays Mill.”

“Gays Mill?” questioned Rodentius from the side. His tone was patient still, like he understood; was putting himself in my black canvas shoes made for tennis matches.

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September 8, 2025 · 2:26 pm

00480111 (Rodentia!)

I don’t think there’s any mixing of words here. This place represents anti-establishment and anti-authority to the hilt! Witness this statue of a beheaded king straddling the corners of 4 sims, a centerpoint of focus. We must begin here to understand all else in the pretty huge metropolis which not only includes most of these 4 sims but spreads over a lot of 2 more as well. Much much larger than The Burg featured in section 03 from photo-novel 45; much larger than Nawt Vaya’s Juho, or Sunklands bordering Newtown, or even west coast NWES City probably, which I’ve considered the largest city of the Jeogeot continent until this point. We the Baker Family have our work cut out exploring this place and resolving its internal story. Might take a large part of a whole photo-novel this time instead of just a section. Maybe a whole one? Several? One way to find out — leap in again!


How did they know I was a stranger? thinks Wheeler.

(to be continued)

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