Tag Archives: Ruby Alien^^==

Silversides:

Baker Bloch hiding behind a big potted plant at the rental plaza, just trying to get an idea of who passes through these here parts. None spotted in the time he was there.

Just dummies around.

He’d missed the appearance of Ruby  — Alien version — by a country mile, let’s say. Despite the lack of pavement where the Black Lake Bunch usually hang out in the Chicken Pen, Jen had covered her dusty, dirty tracks well, with lady of the night Nancy Pantsy doing her part 02. I recall little Alysha listening to it all from her own hiding place in The Burro, another alley across from the first. And Dogg… who could forget Dogg? I didn’t.

Deeper we go!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0116, Nautilus^^, New Mexico, Slaashsides

missing

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0605, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Wild West

now ironically named fire station

“Just remember that you are water and you’ll be fine.”

“So… hot.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0603, Paper Soap, Soap

Satin’s rule

I often dreamed of the explosion that killed Heidi Biker Chick, our former director, soon to be replaced by new director Percy Pierce. It was always the same: I was inside the bar, trying to identity her in the flames and smoke, being burned alive myself. I perish looking for her; perhaps a ceiling beam falls on me, cutting short my horror. But where am I when I wake up? Where am I *now*? (gasp) I sit up: the beam didn’t need to be pushed off me, although I lie in the same position that I died — on the floor. How did I get from my bed to the floor? Everything seemed strange.

In the dreamscape I just left, the fire kept spreading. Now: the fire station itself just next door. Ruby! They’re after Ruby. Better send in the army but, trouble is, the army started it in the first place. Me again, then, I suppose.

I get up. I finish planting the bomb underneath the table where Heidi Biker Chick would meet Hank Graphite later. I know the meeting would start at 7 o’clock sharp. Heidi: always prompt, always professional in her approach to time. 5:05 now. I set the timer for 2 hours. I walk outside, down Violin Lane, back to the depot and the train that brought me here to this brave new world. I am re-swallowed by the tunnel. I wake up for real.

I look over for Alysha but it is 1 year and 2 months too soon. Better get back to work.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0602, Paper Soap, Soap

arrival

She said she didn’t mind but I’m not sure how she made it all the way over here in that position from upper Nautilus. Darn near 5 miles! Of course the different alien physiology allowed her to be balled up like that for a longer period of time. Humans would be turned into sardines. “Ruby, are you there?” I spoke down after opening the multicolored storage container which slipped through Grayling Airport that grey day in early May. “Ruby?”

“Yes,” she said in a watery voice, more than usual since she hadn’t used it in a number of days.

On the other side of her: Billie Jean Kidd; unseen to Alysha; checking to make sure herself that Ruby was okay after the grueling journey — grueling, again, to us humans if we had to do it. Ruby was fine. Being scrunched up like that helped her arthritic neck, actually. She caught up with her long behind self cleaning. She texted old friends with her mind in her otherwise idle body. She finally solved that math equation involving Dark Matter and the Milky Way and the Black Hole at the center of it all. She fell into the Black Hole for a while so she could dream. She woke up refreshed, pure and white as the driven snow. She texted more friends. She revised another equation. More self cleaning. She decided to grow hair and then decided against it, shaving it all off (with her mind, of course). She slept. She woke up. She slept. She woke up, did some more stuff. She slept. She: here.

—–

“Is she okay? Is she damaged in any way?” Billie Jean Kidd knew that Alysha couldn’t hear her but she asked anyway, being nervous and momentarily forgetting her invisibility. She pried her eyes away from tested Ruby and moved them to Alysha, noticing the flowers on the faded blue jeans. “Oh,” she realized. But Alysha answered her anyway, talking to herself as well.

“Looks like she’s been to Jael. And Miccall: she’s a Tilist (!). Thought Martians where always Pentagonalists. And, just there (she checked another part of the rotating glowing blue cube before her): *mermaid*. And jellyfish!” This particular specimen was proving to be more complicated than promised. She’d have to complement The Master on his research as soon as she sees him again. Which should be yesterday’s tomorrow if today’s clock is right.

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Satin

In his old cave, he worships the wife before entering the coffee shop proper. Here lies truth, even though the shop itself is now broken. Broken truth, then.

“You’ve mutated so much it’s hard for me to recognize you these days. If it wasn’t for those eyes…”

“That’s what I’m here to talk about,” interjected Ruby, now our familiar green grey alien. “The *I*.”

Seven, Axis knew. The six and the seven. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have killed that old man with the kane.”

“Michael,” she said. “Plank of wood… I’m getting.” She became embarrassed about her wealth of knowledge and decided to reel it back a bit. Starting: now.

“Well, that’s what led me to *here*, yeah.” Axis took her in more. What a long way she’s come from his little Ruby, a naive girl of 15 1/2 not ready for the world at large. And here she is, beyond the world entirely. Extraterrestrial. Should’ve known, he thought. She always had the — best of hearts. Didn’t belong on Earth. “Well… you’re in charge,” he found himself saying. “You’re the boss. Where to now?”

“You’ve found the cave, good,” she said calmly. “Now you must find the art. Collage or painting? Choose.”

He looked into the multicolored flower with this. He knew he was being hypnotized but decided not to fight. Why keep going? Ruby was beyond what he was — a pure heart, a pure soul. He was ready to give it all up, the world conquest, everything.

She didn’t ask him to show her the other one, the person he stares at in the mirror. Probably already knows, he realizes. And doesn’t care. So… perfect. He must worship her as well.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0614, Neptune, NWES Island^

00280201

Ripped Windmill Man, as they called him, was assigned the role of night guard for Ruby the green grey Alien, currently holed up down at the fire station for further protection from those darn psychic kids. Half policeman half army man, he was more than equipped to fulfill the duty — overqualified, Ben Bolt said, eager to get the job as well to support his own troupe of kids, 2 psychic and 1 mundane from an early marriage (the former Mary Bolt, now married to Alfred Reynolds the shoe cobbler). His ripped body wouldn’t fit through some of the doors there, he argued. His half policeman half army man training made him all bastard, he tried. Jim Wells, father of Alice Wells who Ben was also trying to woo along with the job, would have none of it. “Windmill’s a fine man. He has 3 ripped bodies that he can strip like a snake or lizard or something if needed to fit through any door.  It’s *just* a night guard job, Ben,” he said to a potential son-in-law he didn’t want. “Maybe you should aim a little higher, hmm? How about — manager of the day care; help keep an eye on those psychic toddlers, make sure they don’t get into trouble *too* early.” Because Jim Wells knew it would come to trouble later on as they aged a bit, spontaneous fires being only one potential hazard. “The firemen, the policemen, heck the *army* men can’t do anything about them once they reach a certain age, some say 5, others: 7.”Jim Wells realized he was making a case for ripped Windmill Man to take the day care managerial job instead of Ben Bolt and stopped. His future son-in-law — if it came to that — would *not* be a night guard at the fire station, no way Jose.

Ripped Windmill Man stripped his 2 outer ripped bodies so he could fit comfortably through the door and look in on Ruby. “Everything all right in here?” he asked, checking the corners of the fire station’s storage room again for bugs. He was sensing something but didn’t know what.

“Tell him everything is okay,” commanded unseen Billie Jean Kidd from the side. Turns out Ruby had already been compromised and the firemen, the policemen, the army men couldn’t do a darn thing about it.

(to be continued)

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Collagesity to end

“The proximity of Diamond to Ruby in the Virgin Islands, is telling, Sally. Can I still call you Sally?” He turns, notes the slight tinge of blue in the hair. Dusk now, soon to be dawn. And in-between… well, Charlene doesn’t need to know anything about it, let’s say. Starfish Lake (or Sea). The Motel without the ending “l”. Couch instead of bed. But it’ll do for the job. He’ll think of explanations (for Charlene) afterwards. Must – go – back.

“You may.” He took that in a double way and moved onward.

“And you’ll note in the background, the — distance, that there’s another Diamond. Diamond 02 as opposed to Diamond 01. And *both* Diamonds are near a Hope (Hope 01 and Hope 02), indicating ring.

“I’ll get it,” spoke listening Kolya from the back.

“Not now, Kolya,” Jeffrey Phillips in front said, laughing. “It’s just a metaphor.” Sally was also snickering but tried to at least cover her ruby red mouth with her ghost diamond white hand to disguise.

“Oh.”

Jeffrey Phillips now pointed upper right with his cane finger. “Parasol,” he indicated. “Opening for her to come back,” he explained further about the presence of the pin marking the small Virgin I. village on the map. “Umbrella,” he spoke more back to Kolya. “But don’t open it or there’s a chance more rain will pour into your brain.” Less snickering this time from Sally. She truly felt sorry for Kolya and his holey headed condition and thought new-ish lover Jeffrey Phillips had taken it too far this time. She forcefully halted her smile, turned to Kolya as well to show her serious face, perhaps inserting a schweet secret smile upon it in place of the wry, even mocking one.

With this, Kolya remembers the move from Lower to Upper Austra again and the search for the green grey alien. Ruby. Just like the map. But how to phrase to avoid more mocking? At least from Jeffrey, Kolya thinks. Jeffrey remains undeveloped, but perhaps this new-ish gal Sally — Newgent he thinks, similar to new gal — *can* help him. *He* can help him. He can. He: Can.

Alysha was by *his* side. Alysha reached over and held his hand, knowing she was the one. She’d grow up soon enough.

(END OF “SUNKLANDS PHOTO-NOVEL 27”!)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0617, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Virgin Islands

res(e)t

“Alright enough of this mumbo jumbo hoochie koochie stuff, Minister (same as the funeral home director, conveniently enough). Let’s just get it over with and open the coffin.” Petty was inpatient to see what the Anomaly of this amalgamated town, Paper-Soap, was actually like. A plasmic entity as the sheriff suspected, one Wilbur Marshallford of Pennsylvania, Indiana? A luminous, demonic birthday hat as Koyla, Stu Umbriel, and now black-not-Indian Chief thought, product of that ill advised party and decisions made there? Probably glowing then, wouldn’t you think?

“Just as I suspected,” Chef-inspector Petty continued after the coffin lid had been raised mentally by all attending. “This plot is empty; Ruby is no longer in this world. Only a figurative diamond remains. But to whose hands? Who is wedded to the grave?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0616, Paper Soap, Soap

into it

Agent 47 reviewed what he found out in his head. So they moved Ruby Alien from the Asylum to the Hospital and set up a Cloud of Confusion between the two. Now no one knows the difference between a physician and a psychiatrist, which is exactly what Dr. Mouse had in mind, being both at the same time. Clever man. But Agent 47, with his coral-like brain, thinks he can beat him to the game. He also knows they’ve created a clone, but can’t recreate the green — “green is missing,” Martha insisted toward the end of their, er, bargain, he finally making it to the end and dragging along several pre-Agents with him. Yeah, he thought at the time, you get to experience this *too* — see what *you* think about it. Light at the end of the tunnel, pheh. There *is* no light.

“Mr. Peter File! Calling Mr. Peter File!”

The vet’s assistant looked around, seeing no one respond. She checked out the agent. She looked at the dog reading manga on her laptop and briefly thought how far they’d come as a species, thanks to the Powers of the town — Tim and Jenny Powers, Tim being the vet and Jenny the assistant. They traded off positions every other week, he being the dominant one right now. “Peter *File* — last call.” She stared at the agent again and wondered what number they were up to at the station. She’d heard rumors about the Anomaly of course. “None of you lot?”

Agent 47… couldn’t help himself. “Peter… *File*. Doesn’t exist. He was made up as a joke by the doctor. Now what *kind* of doctor am I talking about… Mrs. *Powers*?”

It was a trick caused by the Cloud of Confusion hanging darkly and dimly over the town, of course. Sparkles the laptop reading labrador, pretending to study manga, was actually, secretly taking notes on the vet and his or her assistant. One of our better creations, Agent 47 thinks while looking on, satisfied in the moment. If only he could get the darkness at the end of the tunnel out of his mind. “Agent 59,” he speaks internally down the line at agents that don’t exist quite yet but are in the queue, “did you get a glimpse of your dark, dark future? How about you Agent 70?” He was just picking numbers at random. Doesn’t matter: they’re all doomed. From his 47 position he could see all the way back to 99, but 100 remained in light. Blinding. 99 is where the images start to separate from the white-out at the end. *That’s* true heaven, he thought bitterly, not Martha Ram or any other woman for that matter. Because the closer you get to birth — well, they’ll find out.

He needed to experience reality in order to continue justifying his existence. Clones are standing by, as they say. *She* wasn’t the only one in trouble. Maybe they could make a pact — work together for a common cause (selfhood). But these Powers of the town stood in the way, confusing vet with people doctors or any other doctor you could come up with. Dr. Paul Mouse, formerly Dr. Paul Black (or dr.’s assistant Peter File, some say), was brilliant even, he decided then and there, watching the dog accomplish a google search for “Yankton Federal Prison.”

Nondescript Norris beside him was taking notes as well. Red Room. Don’t look at me, he thinks while doing so. Don’t *anyone* look at me.

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