Tag Archives: Spider^*======+!

00360611

“And over there is Carbon Glow — geez, I didn’t even realize they were that close. So you see, I’m the one that has to rescue Carrcassonnee from the cave.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” queried Lucas. “I thought — you already went into the cave.”

“No, that was a *dream* about going into the cave I told you. Quite different.”

“Oh.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow for the cave? Out back? Under the 7th spire of Soos Mountain Castle. Somoca?” Lucas was trying to keep straight on everything; not get bogged down in the labyrinth of information again. Carbon Glow? Kentucky? Carcassonne? But with the extra letters to disguise the link. But now he’s telling it openly.

“Yes. Just through the vegetable garden. The Red Door Church should have shut their doors while they had the chance.”

“Tell me about that relationship once more.”

It was here Clifton “Carbon Glow” Mahoney told him about the deleted train track. And the train. Teensie, also known as Tiny (before the 1st Robolution). The train use to pass right through its doors and into the cave. He was going to revive it.

“What about Spider?” Lucas then asks, knowing the mutt had to be in on it too.

“You leave that to me.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0611, Jeogeot, Middleton^, Towerboro

ecumenical matter

“So tell me about this Church of the Ood. Been a while, you know.”

“Oh things have changed. No more clown sacrifices for these good folk up here. That’s all done and in the past.”

“Explain.” He looks at the pictures up front again, merged at the frames — black and white, yin and yang, he perceives. He’s explaining the situation to himself. “One beneath it all?” he guesses.

“Yes.” Guy sure is psychic, thinks Baker Bloch again, still hanging around Gold since his wife has been delayed. Suspicious but of course he doesn’t delve deeper into a reason. The Golds always seem to sort it out despite the many issues involved now, he thinks, infidelity to name a big one on both their parts. High Infidelity, then.

“I was also thinking,” Gold theorized further, “that the clowns have been exterminated through repeated sacrifices and there’s no more reason to hate them. Because none exist.”

“Yeah, that too I suppose. 1/2 and 1/2.” Gold glared over. We weren’t suppose to use that expression past novel 25, the one that changed everything. Baker apologizes, but he only 1/2 meant it. He of course kept that fact to himself. Because — it was a little thing but such things add up to make big things — he wanted to make it okay to say that again. He wanted to honor 12 Oz Mouse expressions above all else. Now that Spider has been found inside collages again. Spider equals Skillet, he knows through Missouri. Polk County, Missouri, to be specific. Home of Uncle Joe and Aunt Zoe, humanvillians both. He didn’t return the glare but he looked over all the same. Gold — could turn into platinum at any specific turn of events. Reaction. Visit from grand-niece and now grown-up Tessa could trigger it. Because she thought him dead anyway; surprised he was still a part of the Land of the Living after Baker phoned her up on a whim. He’s curious to see what happens when they meet.

And where is Preacher Zoidboro? he thinks. 7:05 now. Everyone is here that’s here so far, everyone is anticipating results from this lone religion of town now that the clowns are gone. They have to find or at least pretend to find some sort of God or else all is still doomed.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0606, Jeogeot, Middleton^, Towerboro

00360505

I was under pressure to finish this tonight. An expansion of “Adventures in Tintown Part 4 of Tin” into 4a (original 4), 4b, and 4c. Combined you can create 3 diptychs (4ab 4bc 4ca) and one triptych which goes around in a big circle (4abc or, if you will, 4abcabcabc…). Much analysis could be done but soo sleepy.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0505, collages 2d, Kentucky, Missouri

Adventures in Tintown Part 4 of Tin

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0501, collages 2d, Kentucky, Missouri

Pack

“In-depth; I don’t know the meaning of that. Is that the same as in deep?”

“Oooooooo. Looks like Alice is in *trouble* again.”

“I don’t like the looks of him, Richard.”

“Noo,” he agreed, daring to move his shoulders a bit in the recognition. “Looks like my mother.”

“Another coat check, over.” Reply.

“Check. Checking the overcoat.”

But Agent Orangetang found that he too could not hardly move a muscle in this place and had to send in his partner Boris who was a spider and undetected and perhaps undetectable in the Big Freeze. The coat check would take all night, and by that time Miss In-depth and her accomplice Mrs. Ordinary had long fled the scene, taking the goodies with them.

“Get my gum,” spoke Sarah only 1/2 to Rosalyn. “I’m going in.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0406, Maebaleia/Satori

Ives got it

Just up the hill as it turned out. Former site of a little place called Collagesity.

—–

“What do you think it is?” said Franklin, apparently to the tall, hiding pampas grass in front of her but actually to fellow greenie mate Apples even more hidden within. The teleport invite placed her right in the center (good one!).

“I can’t see,” logically answered Apples, because of the grass and all. High it was, but not her. They hadn’t partaken in a week. This was all on the straight and narrow.

“Right right,” replied Franklin, still gazing upward instead of inward.

“Describe it to me.”

“I will.” And Franklin counted off the stories for Apples, 7 in number, summarizing that it looked like some kind of prison with its bleak outer facade, a tower prison. She was starting to get nervous, butterflies in her stomach if not upon it. Assumed to be assimilated Franklin had somehow escaped, thanks to this type of Central Park location, a hiding spot that, as I said, is the most-least obvious place to look for her. Little did she know. We, of course, let her go, let her be independent from Shelley once more, but at a price. Checking the downstairs works sometime after she arrived, she saw she didn’t have a Gang of Willard any longer. Roberts would not be pleased — if she could ever reunite with her again. Maybe *Roberts* has it, Franklin thought last night in her loneliness. She had the dog, she continued to rationalize. She has a history of buying unusual magical objects. Maybe this is something like, I don’t know, a *Christmas* present, red returned to what was now thought to be only purest green. Sins paid for by another.

“Any signs of life? Any signs of the light?” Apples broke Franklin’s reverie.

Still backwards guitar holding Franklin studied the faces, the windows. Nothing but plain surfaces, outer masking inner as well. “No.”

“We’ll wait it out until dark here. Then stealthily make our way back to Campground Central and Unch. He might have some ideas on this as well.

“He’ll probably just start blathering on about how Collagesity is bound to return, and that a Linden owns the prime part of the land now and that the buyer she’s specifically selling it to for one of her kind’s dollars hasn’t reciprocated yet.” It will come back on the marketplace, the sentient tree predicted with its rustling leaves, emphasized this time by a couple of falling limbs even. Unch was confusing offworld marketplace purchases with inworld land purchases, but they didn’t bother to correct him.

“Hmm. Maybe we should be quiet for a while,” Apples said within. And so they were.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0112, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

deeper…

“The same four numbers. Over and over.” She turns after observing. “Punch them into me, Ensign. I have to know what this is about.”

“But… your condition. Ma’am.” My probable baby! he thinks.

“Never mind that just do as you’re told. Here I’ll hold the chest keypad close to you.” Just like I did last night, Lt. Clotheshanger thinks. The Deep South has a way of making higher and lower come together like that outside the harsh, dividing glare of daylight.

Behind them and at the same time perhaps:

“Is this a formal complaint, Ms. Mantell?”

“Mandell, she says to this, use to mispronunciations of her two given names. So close on either side. “Martell Mandell” she says in full.

“Yes, certainly Ms. Martell.”

“*Mandell*.”

Pause as Shirley studies one of the provided photos in her mind. “Right, Martell,” she finally acknowledges. “So Ms. Mantell (Martell rolls her eyes), tell me about this Harry slash Jerry?”

“I’ll take over here, Martell, if you don’t mind,” spoke immediate superior Abs — Abbey Abdominator — sitting beside her at this meeting with HR. “We have reason to believe this file was stolen.”

“Interesting,” HR representative Shirley Stall says to this. A ringing in her ear. “Hold on,” she requests, “I have to take this.”

6 minutes later, she returned her attention to the file. “Sorry,” she excused herself, “I had to listen to all 24 permutations before she let me go. The boss, you know.”

Abs looked over at Martell who looked back. Synchronicity of thoughts. Spider!

“There was a horse involved.” She paused, reconsidered the communication. “No: a dog.”

Horse becomes a dog! Another forewarning.

She shakes it off, second photo replaced back by the first. Then she additionally realized that the second *came* from the first. Spider was in Collagesity. Spider was (back) in the collages!

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0613, collages 2d, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Omega^^, Southern

00350517

She’d always been a Trekkie/Star Trek fan, as far back as she can remember. She primarily identified with Ouhuru from the first series, was obsessed with her, wanted to know what she did when she was away from the bridge, out of sight of the cameras, etc. So she found out the only way she could: fiction, fan-style of course. Later she started switching the characters around. Sooloo became the captain, and even merged with Captain Crunch of breakfast cereal fame to become Cpt. Munch, with the bravado or macho posturing of the original cpt., Kirklin let’s call him, becoming even more intense and more insane. He treated his crew more like children, child laborers, and he their master at the top of it all, straddling the hill with his two powerful limbs for legs.  Pickard, the captain after Kirklin in the next series, became a “mere” redshirt, fit to be exterminated in any beam down party. Sooloo, also from the original series and who had replaced Kirklin in *form* in her imagination, developed into a love interest for Ouhuru, a way for her to gain favors from him in part. This led to the inevitable end when she got over her head in 1000 City, which the U.S.S. Ararat (taking over from the retired U.S.S. Cuthand — earlier novels I’m talking about here) was assigned to investigate because of a troubling black hole style anomaly (blurred with black horse and black ho concepts in the text) originating from that small but intense cyberpunk city in the sim of Gemini. The beam down party, sans Pickard who had been mowed down by an abominable snowman or snow tiger riding a snowmobile at its top level, its ceiling if you will, eventually discovered the time/space disturbance behind a bar tucked in the southwest corner of town. And here we are. Stuck still, black hole and black horse and black ho aspects inseparable now.

“Be careful out there Carb. And watch out for spiders!”

“Aww Maw!” he called back walking through the door under the purple marquee, beside the blank purple circle that stood in for a wall sign, behind the square, similarly blank purple standing or pavement sign below them. Bar Purple is another obvious name for the joint, but that was just more relics from the past. The new owner (The Void, we assume) had changed the name to the more innocent seeming and generic 1000 Bar, after the city. Ouhuru, due to the powers of the anomaly that might be behind the bar, but might be *where she’s standing*, forgot her Star Trek Team origin, became absorbed into it, much like actual black holes of our universe absorb light and matter; time itself.

She checked her watch and tried to think positive thought bubbles. The letter from the publisher is due today, any minute now. But she already felt she knew the answer, could feel it in her bones. Rejection.

“Another one, Ted?”

“Nah, thanks Liz. I gotta get back to the ship.” He vanished along with her hopes. In reality, the mailman arrived.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0517, Gemini, Hana Lei^^

00350410

As soon as he logged back in, Biff Carter, former police officer now just out on loan, drove his old, battered patrol car — maintenance not kept up after his retirement much to his lament — over to the cell where they were *suppose* to be keeping Arthur Kill. Or Kill van Kull — whatever. He’d know the shape if not the name fer sure. And this wasn’t him.

“Where is he?” he barked to Policeman Clubb in terse greeting. Clubb and he go way back, had their hands in the old style beatings of ’73, miracle year indeed. It was all in the book that Shelley at the tavern somewhere below — beyond — just put down in favor of her tablet and dream related material. “Big Red Machine.”

“Dunno. This guy just appeared in his place while I was looking away for a moment. Said he’s a Receiver.”

“*Receiver*. What’s *that*?” Biff Carter was feeling the pressure of the beat again, the anxiety of not knowing what’s around any corner. Like this. He purposely fed Filburt those pills so he could get him ill and take his place back on the force, so it was all his doing. He had to keep up with the girl. He asked about her next.

“Missed her by a day and a 1/2,” replied Clubb.

“Darn,” cussed Carter. But maybe he said “damn” or even “f-ck” here. Then to this “Receiver”: “Who are you? What did you do with Kill? Did you *kill* him?” Carter might have emitted a small smile here but couldn’t manage it through the anger.

“Kill van Kull?” replied our Claude, who we met back in Section 01 and last appeared in this photo-novel (don’t say what # in the series) at the beginning post of Section 02. Seems like so long ago. “Lampton?” Claude recites another name this killer of the film went by, kill or be killed being one of his mottoes. He’s working on some more.

“Whatever he goes by,” replies Biff Carter bitingly. “I know *you’re* not him. Despite being a [delete name] too… sometimes hard to tell you f-ers apart.

Ah, the f- word, thinks Claude here. Another one due for a visit to The Void. He’ll see to it asap. “He turned… into the Receiver that I am,” spoke Claude, knowing this wouldn’t make any sense to Carter, Clubb. He dare not mention the dog.

Carter finally emitted that smile, which turned into a laugh, which turned into a doubled over guffaw. Surreal truths sometimes do this to people. Witness George Washington Carver exclaiming that he invented a phonograph needle made out of peanuts to a world wide audience in ’84. Not a dry eye on the planet. Hmm, Carver… Carter.

Finally he recovered. “Bring him down to the station,” he barked at Clubb while dabbing his face with a handkerchief. “I’m going to the Kitty Kat Klub,” which Clubb knew was one of their old hangouts while on the beat. Wasn’t even invited. Who was in charge here after all? His old boss Carter or his new boss? Maybe, deep down, they’re both the same.

“Sure, sure,” he relented, not wanting a beating himself. Because he knew what was going to happen to Claude BOOF!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0410, Hana Lei^^, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^

Tesseract Inn continued…

The dead will return to their graves, the bats will fly back to The Void, and the orange lights on the fir tree in the center of it all will be replaced by anything but as Halloween season shifts inevitably into Christmas. Shelley decides to bed down for the night on the comfy couch by the fire as the fog rolls in, another product of the lingering evil. The “Big Red Machine” being finished as far as she can take it, she shifts back to her standard tablet for more reading. Always 1 or 2 or 3 pages in at this time of night and she’s ready for sleep; can stash the tablet safely away beside the bed — or couch in this case — its main job accomplished. She likes to read about dreams anymore, but still has problems remembering her own. Society offers little in training for that, unfortunately, with the emphasize instead being placed on “out there”, or the manipulation of physical objects and the achievement of material goals. How much do you have in your bank account, Shelley? Not enough, society might answer. Focus your energy on investments, financial planning. But the dreams, she might protest in her mind. What about the *inner* wealth. No answer for that.

She’s spacing out instead of reading. Time to shut the eyes. She doesn’t have her special neck molding pillow but, oh well. Next time she’ll be sure to plan an intercontinental trip better; this one was rather impromptu in nature. Plus, well there are the shifts in time/location to deal with. The Cross, pheh. And now she’s trapped, in effect, in one of its quadrants, let’s say, as it divides the continent into 4 fairly equal sections, with one remaining unfinished — not the one she’s in, though, this Mountain land with its many shiny granite peaks and ridges. Must be the mica.

“Goodnight Spider!” she calls as she rolls over, using her hand as a makeshift pillow.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0409, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^, The Cross^