Tag Archives: XIAN

Big Red Machine (skirted)

She could of course still summon him when needed, like during meditation. Not the meditation itself for the need but what usually came after, another afterthought of sorts, the byproduct of two souls being one. If she falls, he falls, so intertwined are their individual pieces by now. Which will inevitably happen: all things spring up and all things fall back, product of the clocks and the seasons. Always blue yellow blue yellow to go along with green red green red, if you will. A complete TILE is the only way to revolve in time. They had understood this ages ago, back when they were still kits, still in the box yet to be correctly assembled by the mother, the father. They’d tried once before, but left out some parts and the whole thing fell to Hell, a screw missing here, a joint missing there. But when they finally followed the instructions the way they were suppose to be: perfection. A girl and a boy both. Adam and Eve reborn. “I will call the female X,” the mother said, approved for such things. “And the boy: Z,” the father said, looking down on his own and then glancing over at what the wife had done, seeing it was good too. “We have done well Myrtle. My Myrtle Beech.” Sand was in his eye; he was dreaming but it was still real, just as X and Z, later Xia and Zimmy, were real. One could absorb the other if needed for protection. X could move up to Z and Z down to X. But given the circumstances of Constantynople and the arrangement at the top of the Kidd Tower, it had to be this way: Z to X. Mr. Babyface stares from his staring chair, understanding this. “Xilted,” he says, knowing it was behind him as well and no longer Zebrasil now two floors above in the alphabet. The Gods have spoken.

“Zebrasil,” he said, staring up through the transparent canopy of the bed and thinking of top vs. bottom and bottom vs. top. “Xilted,” she said in turn, pondering the same. There were degrees to it, well 3 that they could count in the current game. The 4th would represent the Null, the Void, the Absent; the return to home. Nothing to keep them apart. They were just on the surface still, first base yet to be encountered.  No sin in Cincinnati.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0409, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

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She checks her nails to make sure they made it through the teleport okay. “I’m glad you didn’t give away my location, Myrtle. That’s very sweet of you — protective almost.” As stated in the last photo-novel, Xia knew that Myrtle loved her. It was all games beyond that core truth.

Myrtle smiled through the relaxation. She needs this after Mr. Z’s visit! Float in Xia’s sky tub, albiet with clothes on because she was ashamed of, to her, “cow-ish” body. With Zimmy still nowhere to be found. Because he was she. “Think nothing of it,” Myrtle said, floating a little closer to the dress, those legs, those… eyes. Deep pools of God stuff — if only Xia would put that hand back on her dress so she could see them. “Are you going to sit on the edge all night or are you going to come in with me?” She splashed a little water in her direction in an attempt to get her wet to begin. Only her toes now. She needed it all.

She is mine, Myrtle thinks, splashing some more, coming ever closer. Mr. Z can’t have him back, damn the whole TILE angle. “Damn the whole TILE angle!” she said up to Xia, who replied with a, “Damn right!” and jumped in if only to obstruct the view again, soon to be enveloped by arms but, as usual, rejected. She was saving herself for Zimmy. Games.

And then Chet came into her life and Myrtle was still an afterthought.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0408, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File

X’s and

Mr. Babyface’s big mouth on his huge head forms an O. He realizes he’s been staring at perfection all this time, volcano at top, familiar green green Xilted and its now grassy fields at the bottom. All answers lie here.

Al temporarily staying over at the Temple of TILE until they get a true custodian of the place was thinking along the same lines. Paradise found. His itchy and scratchy down there has suddenly and, to him, miraculously cleared up, even though it appears to be exacerbated especially by heat and it’s now basically the middle of the summer. Subtract the bit o’ heartburn which he’s not worried about (he’ll adjust his meal again tonight to further pinpoint the issue), he realizes he hadn’t been this healthy in years. From this center of power combining present past future, he wonders what’s next for Shelley, for Arthur and Edward, for Mr. Babyface and whoever shows up to be his companion and sounding board for more Big E/Big Schwa theories in the Kidd Tower, perhaps old lover Greg Ogden (who can still change into green green Gregg Oden when provoked), or maybe nephew Peter Ladd, a cousin of Lamb’s Paul and thus from a different mother, even though they both call Babyface Uncle.

Mr. Babyface has the impression that Shelley and her boat boys will be moving out of the top of Kidd Tower soon, tired of the limited space there. Soon, then, his dining room and his staring chair will be backed by (the map of) Zebrasil not Xilted, as he moves out of W (lower) and X (upper) back to Y (lower) and Z (upper). That’s his hope.

In other locations, Mr. Z has dropped his backpack and its many masks collected over both real and virtual continents in the second floor of Crooked, determined to make it a home too, as well as a space to further the TILE study group he wishes to jump start here in town. The standing yellow ickle just below is sure to follow; another Lamb — and a needed 4th color to balance the other 3, red green blue. We’ll soon see.

But Mr. Z has a journey to make first. He additionally senses he must unite public north and private south into one to make Constantynople and Constance Island as a whole truly fulfilled; be made a *constant*. Myrtle Beech must be visited. And he needs to get the lowdown on the whereabouts of his own cousin Zimmy.

But I forget. Mary, the third member of Lamb to add to Peter (different from Peter Ladd) and Paul, is already here! And so is hubby Pitch Darkly. They’re established at Darkly Manor, their old home from Collagesity back in the days, back when it was set up right next door to the sacred Rubi Woods. Through a transparent upstairs wall they could stare directly into the many linden trees, the cypress 1’s and 2’s, the eucalyptuses, and, most mysterious of course but only occasionally, perhaps only that one time, Unch himself, the fabled 200th tree of the forest, the one that has the ability to uproot itself and go walking about the place. Being a Linden creation and thus supposedly permanent, the forest is still there. Just not Collagesity. The also sacred 97/97/97 spot that once united Collagesity directly with VHC City on the same continent of Heterocera is protected from alteration, i.e., terraforming from the outside, the thing which ruined the parallel 97/97/97 in VHC City, psychically uncoupling the 2 burgs.

And what of Shelley? *She* is from that same diagonal line crossing the continent, its very tip top in fact in Hooktip, a suburb of VHC City — 135/135/135. Another perfection, it seems. Mr. Babyface is huffing and puffing on his recently purchased Blue Pennant tobacco by way of Hana Lei which replaced inferior Red Dragon, still staring, still preparing in his mind. Won’t be long now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0206, Constantynople, Heterocera, Jeogeot, Kidd Tower, Nautilus, Rank & File, Rubi^, Temple of TILE, VHC City^, Xilted

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She thought of herself as ugly, a cow even.

Later, from her perch above, she watched her bathe, thinking, If I was only that beautiful. Xia and her cat. Always the cat, even in water. Sky, land, water — didn’t matter. Sometimes she believes she is the cat. I can’t leave, Myrtle thinks. I love her too much.

“All done!” came the call from below. Then she moves toward her clothes, cat still glued to the shoulder. Another constant, let’s call it. Myrtle watches everything with great interest. She use to not be this way. There was Ted, there was John — his twin, granted, but still another person. Then Harry the Lie Detector Magician. He hooked her up one day after much pestering. “Who do you love?” he asked her with great sincerity, tricking her. “You?” she answered basically as a question, making the meter jump. “Try again,” he said with some venom. Zimmy of course. Forbidden love. But then Zimmy changed into Xia. Soul shift. She use to not be this way.

—–

“Tell me that you love me, Xia,” she said, looking over. 1/2 sincere, both knew. Xia was playing this game too. She’d learned from the best (Zimmy).

“Of course I love you, Myrtle. You’re my bestest friend in the world, even closer to me than Zimmy.” Myrtle knew Zimmy didn’t exist any longer physically so he really didn’t count. She said so.

“Oh, Zimmy’s around. I just saw him fiddling with that portal, trying to get that thing to work for *real* this time.”

Myrtle had watched *Xia* mess with the so-called portal on the porch over there just before she came for a visit. There was no Zimmy. Not any longer. Okay, she’ll play along. “Zimmy’s a good brother to you.”

“*1/2* brother,” Xia quickly added.

“1/2 brother,” Myrtle calmly corrected herself.

“He taught me everything there is to know.”

“I know.”

“I *know* you know.”

Silence between them. Xia’s feet daintily kicked the old wooden fence marking the border between their properties, reminding her that she needed to return home soon. But — so lonely over there. Only Zimmy. Like talking to a mirror sometimes, she lamented. They were only 1/2 kin to each other blood-wise but still so close that their skins almost overlapped, blood shared and then some. “Come over here,” he said just earlier, before the visit started, patting the rug below the non-blue ball.

It took about 5 days, but Xia, slowly but surely, began to think of Myrtle as a mom. *Her* mom. Zimmy’s too. This baffled Myrtle. She decided to retreat into the interior of the island for contemplation, to a parcel some call the Abyss. Maybe the term was applied later, after what happened to Myrtle. Myrtle became… dark after that.

While gone, she rented her place to an orange being. All Orange. Not useful any longer, the elves retreated back into Philip, their creator after all, if not a Dark Lord. They’d forgotten who their actual father was, and that he had been living amongst them all this time. Everyone absorbed the inevitable fall together. Dancing Chuck looked on at the mess, wondering how the heck he was going to put all these pieces back together. In the end, Zimmy became intermixed with Xia and visa versa. And Philip became part fish, part tall tale himself, the stuff of legend; many books and documents written about him. When Myrtle returned from the Abyss and kicked All Orange back to greener pastures… well, we better save some of the story for later…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0511, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File, Wild West

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She looked at the object that allowed them to be caught in the presents. Not working any more, thus: stuck.

“Sister of mine, why don’t you come over and join me again.”

“I’m *not* your sister. Get that through your skull.”

“Of course you are. We have the same mother. 1/2 sister, granted. But siblings still to a 1/2 degree.” He patted the spot beside him, just below the non-blue ball. “Come.”

Xia sighed (Xia?). “Okay, but I’m only *1/2* enjoying it. My other hemisphere will be dwelling on the fish and its ultimate meaning. Why the floppy tail on the roof? That sort of stuff. In fact — just forget the whole thing. I have more important things to do.”

“Like what?” he asked innocently.

“I think I just told you.”

“You told me nothing. Tale to tell? That is vacant words.” Xia, he contemplated himself. Short for Xian, as in Christian? Interesting twist if so. He’ll have to ask their, after all, church abiding mother the next time he returns home. Hopefully with Xia in tow. But the whole breaking of the portal. How to *fix*??

Maybe that’s why they got so strongly into this whole TILE religion thingy — drew them to the island in the first place. “Take us where we ultimately belong,” they ask the magical portal that fateful day in May’s June far away. It was, of course, working at the time. Another property of the mother. Or maybe — the father. That might explain a lot. Dark Lord.

“Xia,” he spoke over to the pretty elf still fiddling with the object. At least she’s gotten the lights and sound to kind of work on it again. “Tell me about your name.”

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0510, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File, Wild West

different

Despite the prehistoric nature of the place they sometimes had guests. Like today. Robed angels of death stared at her in several sizes and shapes from this perspective. Death was the guest as well, it seemed.

“If I have children, *when* I have children,” she corrected, “I’m going to name them Flaarf and Bozo, after this Second Lyfe sim.” She has a second life here, she realizes. A second chance.

“What about Ingleboort, dearest,” offered Dr. Brown beside her. “I thought if you had twins you were going to name them Ingleboort and Flaarf, giving up on Bozo — like with the Middletown children. ” He didn’t add *alien* children. “It’s not a very complementary first name. Kids will make fun of him. Or her.”

“Yes,” she said, recalling that decision as well, a Muff-Bermingham one and not from the Moon. That darn, lingering Moon, bearded and all. She briefly looks into the sky to see if she can spot it. No luck; too sunny today she reckoned. Full shine on.

The guest finally spoke. He wanted to make a deal to come back. He wanted a religion named for him, this Mr. X as he called himself. Xianity would do swell. He said he’d die to make it happen if it came to that. And it probably would given our history.

“Starve,” he said, choosing a course to do it certainly not involving a meal. “I’ll go out in the dessert and fast myself to death. If it comes to that.” The visions must be purified, he knew. “Desert,” he then amended. “Did I just say dessert? How fitting!” He laughed, probably in a good way. Ally, yes.

As they negotiated, the roaming Allans roared but kept their distance, instinctively knowing here was someone who could eventually defeat their dark overlord and set them free.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0502, Nautilus, Rank & File, Upper Austra^

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Another ghostly Knight was showing them around. You can never completely escape the energy of The Father, the Dark Lord some call him. Red Devil in Xian terms. At his urging, they fed the function-o-meter in front of them with small copper coins — no change there — to watch TV. The ever-present ectoplasm did the work it was paid for.

“Very popular group in the 21st Century,” he rattled about the fuzzy figures on the non-machine, off by one century but only a fraction off the truth in present time, this 8008.

“Name?” tested Baker Bloch, moonburned from the larger space between the flowers. At 6’8″ he was taller than the trees. And even though bigger than birds, the bees offered minimal shade because of their speed. The present Knight again wrongly assumed he was embarrassed because of his lack of knowledge about, well, *everything*. He wasn’t embarrassed. He was just from the far far past. Like we talked about before. We apparently are still in Osse, motor dropped long ago. Like we’ve been driving around a car with no engine for forever.

Knight finally answered Beethoven, with Roll Over dropped early on from the name — even produced an early poster to prove his point. He should be the one to turn red, Baker thought.


early poster, according to Knight

Then while rolling back up the poster to put it away again, ghostly Knight, one of many in the clone hive, said he was joking and that their actual name was SODA. Another joke? Turns out: not. As Baker Bloch checked around, this SODA group seemed to manifest everything here, including the mica table (perhaps ground 00), the chairs around it, the Cavern itself, the *town* itself. Taking up the whole of a sim called Newt. Like the man, the father (of Shelley Struthers). This is, in effect, where he was born, or at least the name. And certainly the group name gives us an important clue about what happened to our society as a whole, the flip flopping of animals and plants and probably minerals as well (we’ll check the rounded mica table for more tips on that later). And the bearded and mustachioed Moon above it all. The Dark Lord. Without any possibility of escape via a satellite of its own, a Moon for a Moon. Bendy knows. He may be more than just a cameo figure in this here photo-novel, 38 in a series of a lot.

“We successfully,” continued Knight, “made the name illegal, *forbidden*, beyond any even seductive poser could get to. Even the pharmacists had the hoods pulled over their eyes, duck-like.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0201, Jeogeot, Michigan, Newtown

what is…

“Look! The Moon has come out from behind some clouds. We’re saved!”

“That’s just old Xianity superstition,” replied wannabe lover Johnny Blank to this, hoping she wouldn’t go down that road again, the Jesus Saves one. He’s Muslim and he’s going to stay that way! And Cylinder is Jewish so that’s that. Found God a while back but a different one from mine, and a different one from Gloria’s. But we still seem to be getting along. For now, he thinks.

Gloria stares and stares. With hate. Just like long long ago when she first got this role. The Moon grew a mustache and beard, peered down at her in ultimate superiority and changed birds into bees, flowers into trees. Not God. Something better, she realized. A Dark Lord. She’d been thinking about it for years, but hadn’t said anything about her insights. A good Christian woman she was to others still. Until the Big Reveal. She’d been pondering it for months. She’ll act on it in days. Xianity, as my *friend* Johnny Blank puts it, doesn’t *have* any superstition like that. She made it up. But, being Muslim, he wouldn’t know the difference. Maybe a perfect match after all, a perfect foil. I set them up he knocks them down.

“Johnny,” she says seductively, moving her pointing finger over to his shoulder, making an “X” on it to mark him as a target. “Tell me about your family again, your overbearing father, your loving but absent mother.”

“She *died*. She wasn’t absent.”

“Oh right right.” She sat up with this, looked up to the still visible Moon for strength. “I… forgot.” The Moon went behind clouds and she suddenly became sad, spell over.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0115, Hana Lei^^, Michigan

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Valley no. 2. Higher, more dangerous, more chance of monsters. He trods the path that Jeffrie Phillips walked before him again. Is Jeffrie dead already? Did Sammie make it back to the highway or was she done in like Tenty. We know, in fact, that she made it back to the highway but not in a good way. So: like Tenty, except a different type of transport.

Sammie was so red already that it was hard to tell where the body stopped and the wound began. This likened her to an alien, perhaps a Cygnus Xian this time. Why was she in all those collages in the Red Umbrella and why was she actually a 5n1? Yes, a member of Pan-Z, like Jeffrie, but one not nearly as established and in the loop. Qualities of a red shirt, then, Jeffrie realized; no better, really, than a middling to higher constituent of inferior Pot-D, he rationalized. He figured she would be done in, but he didn’t reckon this early; thought he would have at least *one* night with her in his “love tent”. He was surprised, just like Tickie in a different way. And soon they would find out why. Together. But first: two.

—–

Jeffrie descends to the lakes and thinks he finds the first monster which turns out to be just an oddly shaped and hued rock protruding from the water. Charlene would not be proud.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0023, 0514, Bellisaria, Varmint Hills