Philip Strevor became bored waiting for Marion Harding to show up with the new recruit to their gang, and started poking around the upper floor of Raven Manor, one of the largest buildings of Capitol City and located in the sim of Babablacksheep.
Hmm, he pondered. Wonder why this big office has a map of Terra Aurca on the wall instead of Gaeta V or Capitol City or sumtin?
He sits down in the centre of the room and thinks: One day I will be a big shot in this town and command from a posh desk like this. He pretends that people are seated opposite him, asking for favors.
“I see, Mrs. Brighton,” he says calmly for the set up. “But *no*, we cannot lend you 10,000 lindens so that your little boy can get out of jail. You can see him in 10 years!” He slams his hand down on the desk to punctuate the idea and then laughs heartily, head tilted backwards. He laughs so hard his sides start to ache. He must be careful.
Marion opens the room’s large oak doors with the fresh recruit in tow. “There you are. Playing like you’re important again?”
Laughter died down, Philip merely grunts.
“I haven’t seen you in about a week, Philip. You’re wearing short sleeves. But where’s your cybernetic arms? What’s happened?”
Philip doesn’t answer but instead stands up stiffly and goes over to the recruit and starts looking her over — he even sniffs her several times during the process. He turns toward Marion. “A *kid*? You said there was a twist, but… a *child*?”
“First off, introductions,” Marion replies, steady in the face of fury. “Philip Strevor, this is Heidi Hunt Ives. Heidi: Philip.”
Heidi Hunt Ives, who is of course Billy Jean Kidd again, extends a hand. “Please to meet you Philip.”
Philip doesn’t shake her hand. He instead roughly takes Marion’s arm and leads him to a far corner of the room. “A word, please,” he says as they walk.
Chance? Heidi thinks with amusement while watching them recede from her. Chants?
more Raven Manor
I’ve been here before, Marion ruminates. But a smaller version, a *tiny* version.
Something about orange.
Heidi Hunt Ives giggles from within again. “Here, Philip Dilip, point me in the opposite direction and see if that will work better. Toward the falls. Whatsaname? Anyway, to the northeast this time instead of the southwest. Let’s see what this baby has got!”
So Phlip Strevor helps Heidi point the bulky cannon atop Raven Manor the opposite way from whence they just shot it. Heidi merely got stuck around the tower spire he stares at in the above snapshot, unable to enter banned property in that direction. Checking the inworld map, Philip agrees a northeast trajectory may prove more fruitful.
“So *next* time you have a go in it, old man. Alright? I’ll do this round and then you get to choose. Okay, let’s do it! Ready… are you ready Philip?”
“Yes,” he calls from behind, touching the cannon and getting prepared for the munchkin’s countdown. He had to admit to himself this was fun. But he wouldn’t dare tell the kid. They weren’t that good of friends… yet.
And off she flies again, a cannonball with raven black hair. He immediately lost sight of her. She tumbled and tumbled through space, her puffed up little skirt blocking most of the view.
Then she was home again, sent there by a land security orb.
Drat! she thinks. She looks through her friend list and finds Philip, then requests a teleport back to Capitol City. No good pics of her journey through the air. She’ll have to try it again.
Although pointed in the exact same direction, for some reason she wasn’t spotted by the security orb this time and sent home. Dusting herself off from the hard landing, Heidi checked the map. Maybe 300 meters she had gone! Not even in Babablacksheep any longer. But where was this?
“It *is* this place, Broken Heart Jackie.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Anyway, it’s time to get to work.”
where they are…
Gaeta 5 is the only finished continent of the Gaeta series. The initial project was to build 5 continents (named from Gaeta 1 to Gaeta 5), then to unite them into a single block of sims. Today, only Gaeta 5 is complete and a part of Gaeta 1 was built. Gaeta 5 is the most compact continent, with no gulfs or estuaries. On map, [it] has a [peanut shape]. This continent is an endless plain. It is linked to Corsica by a two-sim large passage (see Transcontinental Channels).
where they *aren’t* (any more):
present and past
He paused in reading his little red book to call to her. “Time to go home, kid.” For that’s what he already was nicknaming Heidi Hunt Ives, appropriately; she couldn’t help but snicker a little inside every time he used it. “5:00. *Lord* Marion will have laid out what he considers dinner back at the manor in about 15, swee…” Philip Strevor bit his tongue. He almost called her sweetie! She certainly is some kind of bewitching child, he considers, staring in her direction through jungle gym bars welded together with red, yellow, and blue pentagons. Marion had that part right.
“I’m coming,” she complied, finishing up her last dangle of the day.
Philip then turned again to watch the only other kid in the small playground. Unsupervised, but he seemed a little bigger than Heidi and a boy as well — probably all right to fend for himself, he deduced. It reminded him of his days growing up in South Yankton. Snow 9 months out of the year. Playing in the cold with Tommy Fox, Archie Hound, and the rest of the gang. He was use to cold, yes. Craved it, in fact. But he had to leave when he was 6 years old, his family cast out of the village after he attempted an armed robbery of its lone bank, pheh. Yeah, the prison guard families there were a bad influence, but he got away from crime. For a while. Turned to science; turned to the stars. B.A. in Physics at Cambridge. M.A. in Applied Astronomy from Oxford Shoe. That’s where he met Jimmy and became buds. Jimmy said there was another position at the observatory in Australia that he had just earned a job at himself. “Southern skies,” Jimmy lured. “Whole new realms to explore. And you can still see your precious Spica from that hemisphere *almost* as well,” he tacked on. Ah yes, *Spica*, Philip thought bitterly. He paid for that small loss of brightness indeed.
“Honey? Are you coming?” a prepared Tronesisia called from the bedroom.
“Ich bin eingefroren,” Tin S. Man squeaked back after a pause from the bathroom in his squeaky clean state.
“Aww, babydoll. Not again!”
up and down
“Why do you kill me, hwwww?” wheezed the peanut shaped flattie cop to Marion Harding. Sometimes he had these kind of visions up here in Capitol City’s giant tree: all alone and high as a kite. “Over,” wheezed the cop figure, also smoking, “and over… and over and over and over and over, hwwww?” He paused. “I mean, am I still alive? Because I think I’m falling from this tree.” Pause, then another laughy wheeze.
“Then he falls out of the tree?” Philip concurrently reads down on the ground in Raven Annex. “What the hell’s bells does that mean?”
Philip continued to read his book for hours. Afterwards it described him looking through the telescope at hand and seeing Spica, bright as a bell, like he was back in the northern hemisphere and far away from that dreaded Southern Cross. Back to studying the Spica variable star and the precession of the equinoxes, similar to one of his major heroes Copernicus did before him. Our Second Lyfe’s sun, hmm, he then ponders, wondering if it could possibly be reachable by rocket ship. What is in the centre?
By this time, Marion Harding was back down on the ground — grounded — and seeing Capitol City straight and for what it really was again. Bland and boring. The others of his gang were suppose to meet him in Raven Manor’s main dining room at 7:00 (more leftovers from the great spread he had prepared 2 nights back now), but since they both were usually a little late, he decided to drag his feet this time as well. He takes a detour to that recently found ice fishing shed over in Horizons-Spica, part of the sci-fi retro sub-continent where land can be rented so cheaply (thanks Veyot!). Ahh, vacation, he thinks. Could it be possible soon? Perhaps after the one last big bank heist in Farmington. Or was it Bennington?
He teleports to the shack using the landmark created last night. An angler is positioned just a bit down the bank from him, seemingly of the female variety. “Hello?” he says. No answer — but this might be problematic. He wanted to be alone and smoke his grass and talk to his fantasy creations: Peanut Cop, Golden Josephine, and the rest. Away from that nonsense babbling Kid and tough talking Philip, somehow the best of buds now despite their different natures. He doesn’t want other fishermen — or fisherwomen — in his way. Who does own the shack? He desires it for his own, his own centre of the universe, he realizes, at least for a little while.
He decides just to ignore the problem for now and poke around inside again. Chess, he remembers…
He finds himself laying down on the far couch against the colorful throw pillows.
“Fishing,” he murmurs, relaxing, letting it all go. “Fishing for fish. Fishing for answers. Fishing for…”
“Pitch,” the fisher lady then calls from outside, puzzling him. “Pitch. Time to wake up. Wake up.”
“It was awful, Mary. I dreamed I was back in Buster and I’s killing shack, but I was the victim set up this time. I was to be sacrificed!”
“There, there,” Mary comforted, stroking his white forehead. “Only a dream.” Then they laid together. It was like old times.
“Slim to none.”
“South YANKTON!” Eraserhead Man shouted toward the bleached face Norris. “We need INFORMATION! A man named PHILIP STREVOR has returned from there! Listen and this is IMPORTANT! There’s a giant BEAVER there!”
“Don’t look at me,” Norris demanded in a normal register. “Are you looking at me? Because you’re suppose to be looking straight ahead and not at me. Don’t look at me!”
“I WON’T! I’m NOT!” Eraserhead Man rummaged around in his pockets and procured a cigarette, lit it, and proceeded to smoke. “You don’t mind if I SMOKE, do you?!” he asked while emitting his first puff.
Norris didn’t answer, remained motionless. Eraserhead Man continued his grilling. “He goes by the name of CASEY here! Sometimes Casey the ALIEN! Last seen in GAETA V — get this — like GTA V! GTA I Said! Grand Theft AUTO! One of our INFORMANTS tipped us off! KEDAR! Use to live over in NAUTILUS!” He stopped there.
“I may have heard of him. We may have shared a drink!” Norris piped up.
“Had a GOLF club! MOTIONLESS FACE. Said, ‘I’m yrev very happy to SEE you old friend.’! I don’t have to tell you what color ROSE we’re talking about here!”
“You should leave now,” Norris suddenly demanded. “The holiday entities could be up and roaming about by now. There’s a chance they may come to this lower plane… just a chance but not worth taking it.”
“CHANTS?!” shouted the hard of hearing Eraserhead Man. Norris forgot to pipe up at the end this time. “What KIND of chants?!”
15 minutes later…
“Did you get the information I wanted, Norris?”
“N-no. Not yet.” He was trying very hard not to perspire, show fear. But Casey drew it out of him. He *fed* off of it. “I guess… you heard about the beaver?”
“The beaver is not of my concern,” Casey said mechanically. His whole tone of voice was drained of emotion. Casey knew that Jeffrie Phillips would soon be reading this blog post and catching up with him. He needed to stay one, preferably several steps ahead in the game. And we’re not talking about Grand Theft Auto here, ridiculous bank heists and shite.
Norris continued to stare forward into the red curtains. He’d been doing this for as long as he could remember. Weeks, maybe months. Years, even. He had *hoped* that Casey would stare straight ahead as well and not at him. But he could repeatedly sense what felt like two laser beams burning into the back of his head. Cheater! Trying to extract the needed information that, yes indeed, he had. Prison schematics.
But Casey already knew this.
The suspiciously tanned man moves forward on his couch and leans toward Norris’ head, his mouth not half a foot from an ear now. “There’s a par three at the back nine of my club,” Casey hisses menacingly, “where the flag pole sometimes goes missing when I make my holes in one.” He withdraws from Norris and gets up to take his leave. “You think about that over the next several days.”
Norris finally couldn’t help himself. “Don’t… *look* at me,” he said weakly.
“You have until Monday to get me that information, Norris.” Then he was gone, silent as a cat.
Karoz Blogger was next for a visit.
“You were *superb* Mr. Tom Casey. I smell: *emmy-y-y*!”
“Thank you Billy Jean Kidd. Oops. You’re Heidi Hunt Ives now.”
“I am.” She shifted her small weight in the chair. “And how is Karoz down in Chilbotown? Chilbo! as the locals cheerily shout.”
“He’s fine. He’s eager for a return as well.”
“Another eager beaver, cool. But… we must give you a full name. How about Casey One Hole? Reference to both your Indian complexion and a signature kill, perhaps. And how’s this (for a catchphrase): I don’t come from Uranus, I come *for* Uranus.”
“Too gay,” Casey quickly opined. Seeing Heidi scowl, he clarifies: “What I mean is that I’m not a gay character, or at least that shouldn’t figure into the equation.”
“Good enough. Ditch the catchphrase. Keep the name, however. Let viewers ponder over it.”
“So tell me about these prison schematics,” Tom Casey inquired. “What’s my modus operandi and such?”
“Here,” Heidi returned. “We can just pull them up on the screen.” She looked around the large, long room.
“Oh drat, we don’t have a media feed here.”
“That’s all right. Just tell me about them for now.”
So Billy Jean Kidd who is Heidi Hunt Ives explained how the 5×5 layout of metallic looking maps shown in the last Collagesity novel is actually of Montgomery County, Arkansas with its Rubi and Silver villages and the rest — Waters, etc. But it’s somehow also the prison schematics over in Gaston. “Maybe Gaston is actually South Yankton?” she then asks, half to herself and half to Tom. “That would go along with the tropical clime,” she quickly followed. “North Yankton: cold. South: warm… hot. Brazil.”
“I don’t know,” Tom Casey the actor offered. “Oklahoma has to figure in here.” He begins to create his own back story. “I’m an Indian in the past too, perhaps. Hana Lei — check out that Lafferty fellow’s novel, eh?”
“Anyway, we’re in Beaver City, Oklahoma and not Beaver City, Nebraska. The only other one. That means we’re in the past and not the present. Dust Bowl.”
“Beaver as the 7th and last county of Oklahoma before it became a brand new state. I’m trying not to confuse it with Ohio again.” Casey doesn’t get her inside joke. She continues after clearing her throat. “Anyway, I think you’re on to something there (as well). Let’s put all the ingredients together and make a big, whopping celebration cake. Emmy-y-y!” she trills again.
Heidi Hunt Ives read to to him from their user’s Big Book of Synchronicity Interviews:
So how about “Foreign One” or “4orrin1”, then? To me, it naturally follows that “4orrin1” must be defined as something beyond a silver or gold tiling, and I chose the highly valuable metal platinum to name the process. “Head Trip”, although simpler, actually acts as the first true platinum synch that I concocted. It’s very simple, really: “HT” is two basically complete golden tilings woven together — tiles switched on and off between the two — to create something beyond each. In other words, it’s the tiling of 2 equivalent full movies mashed together in a back and forth manner. Back to your question then, Karl, “4orrin1” is kind of 4 gold tilings synched together, yes. But – – this is also very important — platinum tilings can contain not only a multitude of equivalent gold tilings within but also *silver* tilings. And to this, at the center of both “Head Trip” and “4orrin1” — and also “Billfork” — is one particular album apiece by the esteemed comedy group Firesign Theatre, dubbed the Beatles of Comedy at one point. Basically Pink Floyd handed off to Firesign Theatre in “Billfork”, which contains music and equivalent albums from both.
She closed the book and laid it back down on the Great Table. “This is why The Bill are so important to Piera because The Bill are Firesign Theatre, Man. Tin S. Man.”
“But we can’t talk about ‘4orrin1,’ he replied. “Nor ‘Head Trip’. Our user has tried that… and failed (SEE: ‘Paradox II: The Chancelling’).”
“We can limit ourselves to ‘Pumpkintwisters’, though. Tossing out the weak ‘Kansas City Life’, (it’s) the first synch combining 2 movie into 1, the first example of platinum in that way. The great 2-n-1. And that’s why we have brought you to Capitol City and put you up at a cheap but clean rental in the northeast part of the berg I found the other day by accident. Because inside you is lead Kinks Ray Davies, their main man by a, er, long shot. But he doesn’t have a big head about it, hehe. You know and freely admit that now.
“Yes. Interesting collage by the way.”
“The problem becomes: Who plays Zappa? If we extended our discussions to ‘Head Trip’ — which we won’t — *I* could play lead Monkees singer Davy Jones, since that’s *my* name.” He of course is featured in ‘Head’, the pop group’s trippy dippy hippy movie from the late 60s.”
“You as David Bowie, you mean. David Bowie’s given name was David Jones, which he changed because of the presence during his rise to fame of the already very famous Monkees singer.”
“Right. He did. *I* did.”
Heidi paused. “Zappa’s realm too, and a bigger one… but we cannot move into that dialog any deeper. We talk about ‘Pumpkintwisters’ and that is that. You fit in strongly there as the centre, Tin S. Man. Also ‘4orrin1’, but that’s even further away from the light, beyond ‘Head Trip’ even…”
“More complexity. Complexity stacked atop complexity.”
“It is the ultimate synch in ways, that and the parallel ‘1 Pink’, but it remains in pieces inside an shallow grave not of one peace. The whole must be collaged together still to (properly) fill the hole.” She paused, scratched her nose. “Yes, we will return to the Blue Feather for ‘Pumpkintwister’ discussion. I will work on the Zappa issue.” Heidi pulls out a pocket calendar. “How’s Friday the 26th for you? Sorry again about the location change. I did’t realized that the intercontinental interwebs cables hadn’t been stretched between Corsica and Gaeta V yet. We remain in the Dark Ages here.”
“‘Tis Alright,” Tin S Man replies. “I’ve had enough of Capitol City and its bland and boorish manners anyway. Tronesisia… aww rats!!” He recoils from Heidi, unable to backtrack the slip.
“Tronesisia?? Did you say Tronesisia?? What’s Tronesisia got to do with this?” She gasps.
“You’re not *together* with Tronesisia are you? Du warst nicht mit ihr auf eine familiäre Art zusammen?”
Tin S. Man hung his head low. “Ja.”
Those weirdos again, Philip Strevor thinks in a dream. Southwest corner table.
A knock at the office door, then. Small but firm. “Daddy?”
Man, school’s out already?
Well at least she was a quiet kid, Philip Strevor consoles himself. Always reading that darn blue book, though. When he asks what it’s about, she just says, “stars,” sometimes, “stars and space.” But never just “space”, oddly. “Stars… and space.”
“Honey, why don’t you play with your new friend Anorexia out back in the alley. Get away from that book for a while.”
“Spica,” she then uttered, still reading. “Did you know that Spica is such a close binary star that each component is egg shaped due to the gravity pull, and cannot be resolved even with the most powerful telescope?”
“No I didn’t know that.” No more oddball star facts from you, missy, he then thought. He had to get these accounting numbers to Casey One Hole by tomorrow morning. And Philip’s sure he’d bug him about them all the time they were playing golf later on today. He always had to let him win, especially on that prized par 3 hole on the back 9 — the origin of his nickname. He learned that the hard way.
The kid relented. “Oh all right,” she said, putting down the book and heading for the door. “I’ll go find my *new friend* Anorexia.”
Good kid, Philip Strevor thinks again. But the crazies are now sitting at a table in the opposite corner of the building. How’d *that* happen? What’s going on?”
Almost the instant the doors shut behind his kid, more knocks, larger but softer. “Dearest?”
Oh God, Philip thinks. My mother. What does *she* want?
“What’s this trash you’re reading, Philip? ‘Celestial Handbook’? I bet it’s a celestial handbook.”
“That *trash* is what you gave your granddaughter 2 Christmas’ back. The one she still can’t put down even now.”
“Oh.” She scrutinized the cover more closely, then drew back. “Well it’s good for her to read. Keeps her out of the alleys. Where is she anyway? Wanisa said it’s your turn to keep her.” Philip feels the noose tightening around his neck. Might as well say “cut here”. Oh wait… it does.
“Mom, I’m *so* busy. Can we talk later?”
“Not until you tell me where Poodles is.” Poodles is (June’s) pet name for her granddaughter.”
“Okay, okay, just to get you off my back. Yes, she’s in the alleyway, but she’s supervised. Her new friend who just happens to be *13* is back there with her.”
“Have you checked? Did you follow her out to make sure her friend met up with her?”
“You should have run smack into Bug before you came in.” Bug was Philip Strevor’s pet name for his daughter. He then thought of the spooky trio that switched corners of the building. “*Did* you run into her?”
His mother disappeared. His wife took her place.
“Philip we need to talk. It’s about Casey One Hole. Yankton.”
He wakes up in his ersatz observatory. “Yankton?”
Actor Tom Casey visits The Twin Peaks Laboratory — which also happens to be located on the Gaeta V continent — for inspiration and education. After all, his character of Casey One Hole within the ongoing “Collagesity Winter 2017-2018” graphic novel is largely based upon the Bad Coop figure of the show played marvelously by Kyle McLachlan. The same Real Life actor plays two other Coops… but that’s a long story to go into. I highly recommend for anyone who loves progressive television/film to watch the original 2 season run of “Twin Peaks” from the early 90s, and then the just released “season 3” coming 25 years later (“Twin Peaks: The Return”). Taken as a whole, the 18 episodes of the new season form a kind of giant or hyper movie, but, as the wife and I have learned, you really need to read the attached 2 books written by TP co-creator Mark Frost to make sense of it all (“The Secret History of Twin Peaks” and “Twin Peaks: The Final Dossier”). However, if you choose this “total experience” path, be sure to do the following: read “The Secret History” first, then watch “The Return”, then read “The Final Dossier” (which I just finished about a month ago). This on top of experiencing the first two seasons and attached “Fire Walk with Me” film. I’ll let interested parties look up details online having laid out this general milieu.
I am personally inclined to regard “Twin Peaks: The Return” as director/writer David Lynch’s singular masterpiece, the culmination of a long career starting, in the broader public eye, with the breakthrough movie “Eraserhead” from 1977. But his last two films proper, “Mulholland Drive” and “INLAND EMPIRE”, are also very very good as well. Lynch, again to me, seems to just get better with age and experience.
More snapshots from Tom Casey’s visit:
Casey stares at a “Return” shooting location shared with “Mulholland Drive”.
In yet another dream, Casey One Hole sits atop his mountain in Horizons-Spica which is actually Horizons-Vega, waiting for someone.
The controlling 32 cube is clearly seen from here.
Along with the Killing Shack. The Crux of the matter.
He will be patient.
“We’re gonna have to leave *sometime*, Tonya Two Egg,” whispered robot child Arale inside the ice fishing shed.
“Have patience my friend.”
“You’re sitting in my seat, bud. My mountain, my seat.”