Artist, actor, producer David Newton Jaspers ponders his future in Adgatetown and sees it is good.
Except for one, glaring omission. He doesn’t have a significant other. David believes that’s about to change, what with his good looks, charms, and wiles.
He’s got his eyes on a yellow girl who recently sailed in from New Island over at what they call the Omega continent. But he presently can’t see her…
… if only because of the interceding Linden plumeria bush.
Despite coming from afar, she’s actually Corsican through and through. He likes that about her. He wants to be the same. David Jaspers. A man who can’t possibly lose. Until he does.
“I produced this album back in the early 00’s, one of my first gigs! Progressive math rock band called Chalcedony! Aren’t they just the dreamiest!?”
“I suppose, David! My legs kind of hurt now! Can we go to the juicebar!”
“In a minute, doll! Here’s a passage I always play on air guitar! Dig this!”
“Oh Lord,” Lisa said just below the level of the blaring music. “Will this night never end?”
Morning came. Was Lisa the Vegetarian Smipson still there?
What do you think?
“I tell you, Linda. I have half a notion just to sail over to New Island and grab Fisher and plant a big wet one on him and then drag him back here, full painting in tow of course.” She took another drag off her limeaid.
“1000000 lindens?”, fellow vegetarian Linda Halsey guessed at the price once more. “1000500?” Her estimates had been steadily increasing all morning while Lisa continued shaking her head. As the sun rose, so did the worth. She was slightly perspiring now, so excited she was about the possibilities. “*I* could be your lover, Lisa, for all that dough.”
“It’s the paint,” Lisa then explained. “The red half of the violin was painted with a mixture of powdered pigment, rabbit skin glue, and blood. But particular blood. That of the maker’s wife who died in childbirth.”
“You don’t say…”
“And about the green side — even weirder. But I can’t talk about that right now.”
“I know!” her bright, blonde friend then exclaimed. “Vulcan!”
Dang, thought Lisa. She’d said too much.
They stood on the bridge spanning Rigg Strait. “So you can see in comparing the current building to my 2012 version way back when,* objects are degenerating here instead of evolving. Sloowly. Over time.”
“I want that girl. I *need* that *girl*!”
“Fat chance, Madame Silver,” Axis tried to placate. “The energy is too low in this Adgatetown, notwithstanding David Jaspers air-guitaring to progressive math rock band Chalcedony. We’ll have to lure her back to the Omega continent, not to New Island of course (which has been destroyed), but Fisher’s own island, his self named river one. There we can control all of the continent through The Triangle — Ruby’s Empire…”
“*My* empire for a while longer, though. And make sure Ruby’s wrapped around your little finger by that time, *Tin Tin*.”
“I will,” assures Axis, who is indeed the same as the boy starting to be loved and adored by Young Ruby. You may remember him from the last Collagesity novel as well (“Collagesity Middle 2018”), taking the form of a German Shepherd dog known by that identical name. Dog, man, boy: all the same. “But then, returning to the (geographic) Triangle,” Axis started again, “we have *Wallytown*, a class 4 population place; Ruby’s Democratic Empire, like I said; and then, to complete it, the Eraserhead Man film set known as Urbane Blue in the meat, er, heart of Meat City. And then, I suppose — come to think of it — this Glinda cypress forest on the northern side of Fisher’s Island. The Triangle and its center.”
* 2012 version of same structure, for comparison:
They continued to poke around Adgatetown, Madame Silver’s mouth agape all the time. “How can anyone *live* like this?” she asked as they paused in the middle of a residential neighborhood. “In these simple, monochromatic, um, *houses* dare I call them?”
“I don’t think anyone really *does* live here, at least any more. Except Mr. Jaspers and Miss Halsey and maybe a couple of others.”
“Destined to get together, you have reassured me,” Madame Silver spoke of the pair.
“Yes.” Pretty sure, Axis then thought to himself, still worrying slightly about the match that has to be.
“Reeling Lisa the Vegetarian back, back, back to Fisher’s Island and namesake Orange Boy. Like a fish — get it?”
“I get it.”
“Back to the beginning again.”
“I’ve almost seen enough of this Adgatetown, but let’s examine the juicebar. That could be a potential problem area. Resonance with (Wallytown’s) Bar Lemon; possibility of one cancelling out the energy of the other.”
“We’ve made sure,” spoke Axis, “that limeaid has been properly substituted for lemonade in key moments. Like yesterday morning.”
“Good, good.” Madame Silver seemed pretty satisfied with this explanation. “But I still want to take a look.”
“Yes, the limeaid is quite quenching,” cooed the glittery dame to her partner in crime. “It’s getting dark, though; don’t want to run into Lisa here.”
“No worries,” soothed Axis once more. “She’s in an alternate timeline and would only get a quite distorted version of ourselves at best. Maybe, say, a sparrow and a crow eating cracker crumbs off a glass table.”
“You make a good evil dude.”
“Thanks again, madam.”
“One day you will be my black knight in armor.”
“We’ll make it so.”
“A black king, even. And I: the *silver* queen.” They clink cups to that.
Fisher was having one of those dreams where all he could do was sit in a particular spot and look around.
A man with a red cross on his chess beckoned him down off his perch to play chest, insisting he take white.
“Black goes first,” he said after Fisher is seated, promptly sliding a pawn to King 4. Fisher found he was frozen again, unable to protest the rules change. The pieces moved before him against his will. It was over in 13: black triumphs once more. “Boris Spaskey!” he cussed, then imagined a black crow perched on the tombstone of a freshly dug grave. He didn’t dig it. He didn’t!
Objects spread beneath the waters in all sorts of mad ways.
A captain and his trip.
Dorothy at the beginning of both the yellow and red bricked roads. Spinning.
Another dreamer floated nearby, a mermaid.
She was having a slightly different dream where Fisher sat at a red desk and watched several stationary red spots in front of him.
When he moved, they moved (slightly).
It was time to talk to the red brain-heart.
“What’re you checking out bud?” a concerned Bendy asked his best friend Fisher who was looking at his hands.
“I think I cut myself on that old ferris wheel car in my dream last night. Is that possible?”
“Anything’s possible in a Wonderland, I suppose,” responded the robot. “Was this the spaceship again? Dr. Ice Cream?”
Fisher considered the question. “I guess it *could* have been. A captain was there. And a captain always has a ship by default. Right?”
“I reckon. Want another morning brandy? You can also pour some on that cut — if it is a cut — for disinfectant. But it just looks like a regular ol’ hand line from my perspective. Let me see.” Bendy examines his hand. “Yeah, definitely just a deep, reddish hand line. Heart, or perhaps head. Have you ever had your palms read? And this time I don’t mean by blood, ha ha.”
Fisher thought back. “Maybe when I was drunk once in Bennington North. Lots of palm readers there, going along with all the (tree) palms.”
“Lindens?” Bendy asked about the trees.
“No. Just regular mesh products. Like what’s on the original Fisher’s Island. The tiny one we erupted up to in our pink car from Second Lyfe’s vast underground. Or was it blue?”
“We better figure out such things before advancing the book further. This is 10. Often times 10 is a construction sign on a path one can progress no further upon. Like in The Swamp. You know, with The Cube.”
“I *don’t* know that, Bendy. How could I, as a character in such a book, know about The Swamp and The Cube? But of course I guess there’s always The Dreams.”
“It’s where photography will be reborn. 10 is the limit, Fisher. We’ll have to live inside The Cube after that. In The Swamp.”
He started studying his hands again, seeing something in the patterns. “Can’t wait.”
“Oh I almost forgot to mention. I’ve been seeing *robots* around lately.”
“Mirrors?” Fisher joked.
“No. Actual real flesh and blood, er, nuts and bolts robots. A little one who motored up to me and introduced himself about a week back. Walldo he called himself, obviously after the town’s famous wall. But why? Then — I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this — I saw another one from more of a distance. And she looked like… Nah, it isn’t possible I know. But, get this, she looked like *Tronesisia*.”
“Get out of here. We know Tronesisia perished in the New Island catastrophe. Actually she perished before that, being frozen in the Artist Point Interactive display, apparently by this powerful witch named Hazel or Mid Hazel or something.”
“She’s old,” inserted Bendy. “But anyway, I called toward her — she was walking on the beach near that mound with the dead Russian Greys.”
“I know the place,” Fisher said, nodding his head.
“But then she just walked behind the mound from my perspective and never came out the opposite side. I hastened over to the beach — nothing inside. Just the Greys there, sprawled on the ground at the entrance, like usual. No Tronesisia. Maybe I imagined it?”
“Let’s go look at the scene of the crime — help take my mind off these crazy dreams.”
“Yeah, they’re getting crazier,” said Bendy. “Curiouser and curiouser, even.”
“Do you remember *this*, Bendy?”
(to be continued)
I’ve been sitting at this crazy console looking toward the entry teleporter for about 15 hours now, Bendy thought to himself. *No one* has shown up. I hope Fisher is enjoying his crazy dreamy time. Is this a deserted ship? Like a desert isle? he then thought. Dead Greys? (Hector, Lewis, Gerry) Did they represent the *entire* crew?
But of course there’s Fisher’s dreams of Dr. Ice Cream and being revived here. We *had* to come here to this new New Island in some way, Fisher told him, which was a logical deduction. Red and green together making a whole. Or perhaps a hole.
Spocari entered. Bendy had missed him teleporting up while daydreaming.
The space captain spotted the robot and drew his weapons. “Identify yourself, stranger. It is not logical that you sit there in Willard’s place. Where is Willard? Identify yourself.”
“Um, Willard had the, er, day off. Yeah. He’s sick as well. And he fell… down some stairs. He’s in pretty bad shape.”
“Lies!” Spocari declared in his deep, level voice. “Dratted robot lies. That’s why you should all be on the surface and not up here… lying all the time. Down there in the muck and grime is fine. Bar Lemon,” he then stated. “Did you come up from Bar Lemon?”
Bendy dropped the pretense which he wasn’t good at anyway. “Er, no. From the mound. With the Greys. Dead.”
“Hector, Lewis and Gerry?” Spocari offered. “Fine alien men all. They will be missed. And of course I can survive as well on the surface like you lot. But no other biological agents aboard. Just I. Do you know why robot? How smart and wise are you? Are you like Walldo and just a photo droid? Or, well I can’t say her name out loud because of orders.”
Tronesisia! Bendy thought to himself. She *is* alive! “No,” he then answered Spocari. “I do not know why you can survive on the surface and not other biological agents on this ship.”
“I’ll give you a hint.” He readjusted his phaser and then cut the palm of his left hand with a tiny beam to reveal blood. Green all right.
(to be continued?)
“Bring me out of it in 5 minutes Lt. Gunnhead.”
“You – are – so – amaaa – zing, caap – tain,” the 12 foot tall robot beside him, with a “gun head” indeed, clunked out from a larger, stubbier nozzle that acted as his official mouth. “Soon – you – will – not – need – regen – er – aaation – at – aall.”
“Hopefully. I don’t know how Dr. I. C. does it. 30 minutes every 3 hours now? *I* wouldn’t even make it, perhaps.”
“Paaain – ful?” sputtered the robot. “You – said – beefore — no – paaain.”
“I lied, Gunnhead. I’m learning from you lot.” Cpt. Spocari smiled steadily at Gunnhead as the brief regeneration began, emphasizing how successful he was at hiding a wince now.
“Quaal – i – ty – over – quaan – ti -ty – yes,” nodded the watching, awed robot. “Greeeen.” I think we have a bit of a ro-bro crush going on here.
“Captain Spocari,” requested Dr. I.C. from the deck immediately below.
“Not – NOW. Regen – er – aaation.”
“Yes. I now see that process is occurring from my monitor, Lt. Gunnhead. Thank you for the explanation — and the warning.” Dr. I.C. had learned to be kind to the towering robot at all times. To save from rages; don’t want any more rages. No indeed. “But we have another transfer coming aboard. The yellow fog is forming even now.”
Lt. Gunnhead quickly calculated that it had been 3 weeks, 2 days, 4 hours, 37 minutes, and 53 seconds since the last such transfer. And this after they came so fast immediately after the catastrophe. Fisher, Bendy, Hector, Lewis, Gerry, but then no one until now. “I – wiill – bring – hiim – out,” he acquiesced. The robot knew this could be a very important, new development. The numerous guns making up his head would remain unfired for now. Retractors: on.
“Yes. It’s phasing in now — a woman. I think.” Dr. I.C. looks over, then checks the vitals again on her monitor. “Yes. Definitely female.” Yay! she celebrates inwardly. Finally someone to talk to.
Picard’s voice sputtered over the staticy intercom. “Captain Nemoy?”
“Yes? What is it?” came the deep, level voice, doused with a good amount of irritation. Oh he truly *hoped* he didn’t have to go up into *space* again and deal with this or that. He so loved it here in his underwater lair. But Chief Communication Officer Justin Picard’s voice was almost always a harbinger of such things.
“Just a friendly reminder from Dr. I.C. Yourinsides that you have that debriefing with the new transfer in 15 minutes in the War Room. It’s on Deck 1 of 15…”
“Yes, yes, I *know* where the space station’s War Room is.” Dufus, he tacks on to himself. Spocari Nemoy had totally forgotten about the scheduled meeting. The fascinating topic of analyzing and then quantifying the possibility of sub-atomic sea horses will have to wait.
“Penn Mann??” questioned Spocari to Dr. I.C. after teleporting directly into the War Room 30 minutes later. It was a red flagged landmark in his inventory: red for trouble. “What’s our director doing in this meeting? Was there a problem with the production? Besides the fact that we’re still in August and we’re almost halfway through this Collagesity graphic novel called ‘2018 *Later*’. What’s the next one to be called: ‘2018 *Even* Later’?”
“We have another, different quandry now,” Penn Mann thought into both their brains with a thin voice. “Mrs. Blue Jay Wade is 4 months pregnant but is perfect for the part. However, ‘Collagesity 2018 Later’ is scheduled to run through the middle of October, when the baby will definitely start to show.”
“Then just use camera angle trickery,” groused Spocari Nemoy. “Like they did with Lucy Ricardo in ‘Bewitched’. Hide her behind some grocery bags, etcetera.”
A pause of about 30 seconds. Then: “She has an understudy, but it is a biker chick. I know you hate working with those kind after that remake of ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’, Captain.”
Captain Spocari Nemoy’s face screwed up until he recognized the error. “It was ‘The Wild One,’ Penn Mann.” Pen*head* he thought inwardly, then said: “For a director you often don’t seem to know a lot about movies.”
“Marlon Brando in both, yes,” came Penn Mann’s voice again in their heads. “My mistake. But I will also correct you: you’re thinking about Elizabeth Montgomery in the ‘Bewitched’ show. Lucy Ricardo starred in that more famous tv trope ‘I Love Lucifer’.”
“Alright, enough of this,” Dr. I.C. Yourinsides spoke up. “We have to make a decision about Mrs. Blue Jay Wade. All she’s going to do is scream about her husband’s head being pulled off by Big Red. I’ve read the proposed script. Let’s go with the biker chick and save us a lot of trouble. This coming from a woman and a mother of 7.” Then she couldn’t help herself. “*Look* at me,” she offered, indicating her slim waist and overall figure. “Would you even know I had *one*?”
“Okay,” returned Penn Mann, not looking over at the many eyed alien beside him (since he himself didn’t have any eyes — no mouth, no eyes). “We’ll start Kelley DeForrest tomorrow. Sorry Captain Nemoy. Biker chick it is — the women have spoken.”
She had to pick her way through solid, floating rocks, flowers and grass, but Ruby finally made it to the couch where Gwin was sprawled out, the girl her age who lived in the smaller unit next to her tree house. Her and Tin Tin’s house, she accepted. But where was Tin Tin these days? But, more importantly, what has happened to her empire while she was away working at Tina’s gallery for the weekend?? Future empire, that is.
“*Where* is all the stuff in the middle?” she asked Gwin, then faced out across the basically empty expanse as well.
“We were suppose to have a sim wide meeting right there on that circular couch day after tomorrow.” The sitting 15 year old girl breathed deeply. “I watched it, you know. Madame Silver just swooped in and started deleting things right and left. In a rage, she was; I could tell even from this distance.” Like all proper thespians, Gwin’s voice was strong and dramatic. She sat up straight, folded her legs under her torso. “Until today I thought I should have stayed in EM’s Urbane Blue as Jill MacGill; dealt with the stupid doppleganger plot.” She then plopped down off the floating couch, facing Ruby square on. “Yet you seem to be another doppleganger, Young Ruby. 15 1/2 you say?
“Me too. Where were you born again?”
“I’m last from New Island. You know, just across the bridge from Wall Island.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
Ruby decided to make up a birthplace. “Collagesity. Over on one of the oldest continents. Most commonly called the Atoll Continent.”
“Geography was a speciality of mine in school, Young Ruby. You don’t have to lecture me about landmass names. Heterocera is the offical terminology for that particular continent. It is the second oldest, after Sansara. That one contains the mainland’s only permanent snowy region. Then 3rd came Jeogeot, but far to the south of the first two.” She kept on going. “Then in the eastern hemisphere we have Maebaleia or Satori, almost a double in area to Jeogeot but not quite; then Nautilus above that, an archipelago really and not a continent; then Corsica just to the north of that; and then, moving even further east, Gaeta V, one of 5 continents planned as a super continent of some sort. But only Gaeta V — admittedly don’t know why they called it the 5th — was finished. And then this one.”
“Omega continent,” Ruby finished.
“Yeah. But that’s not the official name. And now you reside here with me in Meat City. Not the heart of Meat City — been there done that — but on the eastern edge, between town and country really. But it seems we may have lost our saving sanctuary. Madame Silver is either making wholesale changes, or she’s just tired of this democratic empire in the middle of squalor, ready to give it up instead of passing it onto you, the rightful queen. Or president, I guess we should put it, since it is a democracy and all. How do you feel about all this?”
A whirlwind of information this *Young* Gwin is! Ruby thought. Should she say: “depressed”?; “elated”?; “don’t care one way or the other”? She decided to go in the direction of the last option. “I had mixed feelings all along about taking the, er…” Should she say “gig”? She decided it was a hip, flippant word to use here. “… gig.”
“Gig?” Gwin snorted. “I would have sawed off *both* my legs to have this ‘gig’ you so flippantly brush off as unimportant… so so. Do you know who you are? Do you know what this is?”
All Ruby knew in the present is that she was really starting to miss New Island and, especially perhaps, Collagesity. She missed Shirley Boot and Ragdoll, who are one and the same. Indigo too. Mabel, obviously. Yes: *Mabel* is kind of sort of her mother, Ruby thinks. Maybe *she* knows where she is born. Actually born.
“Tin Tin was here,” spoke Gwin boldly, snapping Ruby’s reverie. “Says he’s joining the army. Up in [delete name] just over in the country — up [delete name] road. You probably know the place. Full of boys, boys, boys. I think Madame Silver put him up to it. Maybe you should go visit him. Maybe talk him into coming back… if you wish. If you care about this place at all. You were destined to be married, you know. That was the plan. And *I*, Young Ruby — just so you’ll know — am your understudy in that direction. Get my drift? So I don’t care one lick if you go visit him and talk him into coming back. Because that’s what I plan to do, say, um, *this morning*.”
She then shows Ruby the engagement ring.
A central, heart shaped ruby just to rub it in all the way.
Timmy knows he most likely shouldn’t be here. But he still can’t help himself. Such a fascinating place. And so close to “home”. Besides, the owner never seems to be around — no way to get in trouble. Most likely.
Display! Like he’s a doll, tehe. But only one pose. He’s seen others of this type with several. In fact, nothing in here except a couple of couches and a lounger seem to have any poses in them atall.
Eyes and brains, pheh.
rock log never seems to get any smaller. Despite the constant chipping away.
Timmy can’t help but think there’s something kind of sinister to this place. Like evil objects with the evil removed. If that makes sense. Barren evil.
Time to stop hanging around here and go back to his church. Getting sleepy.
Just catty-corner. So close, so close.
Ruby wandered around her “empire”, checking to see what else had been deleted or changed. The border buildings lining the 4 sides of the sim seemed to remain intact, thankfully. Starting clockwise, she decided to save the church in the northeast corner for last, wanting reassurance from other spots before checking. It was *her* church. They couldn’t take *that* away from her. Else she’d have nothing left here really, she understood. It was her *core*.
Her mind wandered along with her feet. I never loved Tin Tin anyway, she thought. This was all just so silly. Let Gwin and Tin Tin run off together into high, blue tomorrows. What does she care. It wasn’t really his face, which was not so much two toned as just beveled, each side catching the light in a different way. It wasn’t that he still ate with his mouth open at times, despite her best efforts at training him. And that nose! Not really the appearance but what he does with it. Yes, let Gwin have her soldier boy in his stiffly starched khahki uniform (as Gwin described it earlier — Ruby hadn’t seen Tin Tin since he enlisted at the beginning of the weekend). Other options will open up.
She remains confident if still a little heartbroken.
And there’s her church coming into view! It remains as well. She breathes a heavy sigh of relief.
Yup, the ground had also been lowered here. Difficulty even getting up to the front platform.
Time to be reassured on the inside as well. She opens the huge, creaking door.
Yes! So beautiful.
Like walking into the face of God.
Hold on. Who’s this?
They instantly hit it off. Ruby showed Timmy how to learn about land through the About Land description, and to see if they could rezz objects on such land and how long their stuff would stick around when rezzed if so. Also if other people could see them from other parcels, and visa versa. Ruby became a mentor to the 11 1/2 year old boy. So much like me at that age, Ruby thought. And as plain looking as me back then too! But Ruby dreamed that Timmy’s simple features would mature with the passage into teenage years, sort of like what happened to her (she supposed). Yes, she could dream.
But tonight was a lesson in skyboxes. Although Timmy had seen things floating in the air, he always assumed the main build of any parcel was set firmly on the ground. Why build in the sky when you can terraform? Timmy at least knew about that Second Lyfe skill, since his father was a professional landscaper back in the continent’s Mountain Lake country where he’s from, as he explained to Ruby one day while pointing eastward. So that was kind of a mental block to him appreciating the *verticality* of Second Lyfe, which is also so much different than our own Real Life world. We do not build in the air except when first secured to the ground.
And falling! Ruby demonstrated by flying high high high — way beyond sight — and just shutting off the flight powers and tumbling back to the Earth. To still earthbound Timmy’s amazement, she just got up and dusted herself off, unharmed in any way. “Wow,” he then said. “Do you think the doll people escaped by flying up in the air? Maybe their doll master was as dumb as me about such things!” Timmy here was referring to information learned from the About Land description for the peculiar warehouse catty-corner to his (and Ruby’s!) church on the empire property — where they were at the time, actually. “And this otherworldly giant who plays with their cases — might he still be around?” Ruby patiently explained that, to her, this “otherworldly giant” also mentioned in the land’s description is obviously a user.
“A what??” exclaimed Timmy.
“A user,” Ruby said. “We all have one. We also all have a core avatar our particular user *uses* to transfer from World Number 01 to World Number 02 — this one. I had to learn about my core avatar when I came through the Rabbit Hole over on New Island.”
“The one you told me about, yeah,” said Timmy, nodding his rounded head. “The one before Fisher’s Island. But what about Meat City?” He points west this time.
“That my child friend is a place we cannot go into at this point. Not until you mature more.” She studied his face again while they stood in front of that warehouse. So different from Tin Tin’s, who she had gotten use to in the past several weeks. No bevel in the middle obviously.
And such a tall boy for his age! Ruby soon concluded from this and other evidence that Timmy was actually a doll himself, somehow left behind by the others of his kind and adopted by kindly mountain folk. It was disappointing — mostly, she admitted to herself, because it ruled out the possibility of a future lover upon maturity. Timmy’s face would never change from this. He would never get older because he wasn’t really biological. But this might be his saving grace later on.
From his perspective at the time, Timmy was wondering about Ruby’s spiral etched wooden leg and the story behind it. Turns out… well, let’s save that for another night.
“Multicolorville, eh? hehe,” tittered Timmy from the top of the cloud tree at Ruby’s graphic descriptions — remote viewing of course. They were at the “front door” of the 4000 meter skybox of that peculiar warehouse property now, contemplating the next step and just chatting in general.
“Well. It’s like that old John Lennon song said: make love not war. My daddy use to play that before bedtime. He so loved my momma.” Timmy tittered again, then became quiet, hearing the track in his head once more. “‘Mind City’, I believe it was called,” he proclaimed after a moment, then pointed east again, although Ruby couldn’t see the gesture from her perspective. He had a habit of pointing in that direction every time he talked about his family. The direction of the mountain lake where he came from. Timmy was always properly oriented, an internal compass probably part and parcel of his true doll nature he was still oblivious to.
“Mind Games?” corrected the swinging Ruby below. She’d somehow heard this conversation before. But where?
“That might be it.”
And the flip side, she realized, was…
She continued to stare in the direction she instinctively knew to be west. The direction stupid Gwin came from. Suddenly Ruby had decided on their next step. “How would you like to take a leap of faith with me, Young Timmy? As in: across that plywood gap we saw earlier.”
“The one to the west?”
“Removing me even one step further from my family?”
“I suppose.” Ruby had already realized that Timmy’s family had been killed in the war between the Trojans and Durexians she’d read about in her sex ed history class during grade school. No mountaineer was protected from the consequences. Poor Timmy!
Timmy 05 (The End)
“I said three!!!” she shrieked, then could only watch.
Like the proverbial Timmy who fell down that well, our Timmy didn’t make it. He stopped believing in The Magic at a bad spot and tumbled to his untimely death.
Ruby would have to enter Meat City alone.
New Fisher Island
“I was able to pull the interwebs up this time, Baker — Pitch! I just had to set my group to Blue Feather. Wrong group before — too much shopping for clothes, I suppose.” She laughs a bit.
“Right. Getting right to it, this is Fisher Island, Alabama in front of us, Bill slash Wheeler. In an alphalist of islands named Fisher in our user’s US of A…”
“Soon to be destroyed,” interrupted
“Well, let’s not rush it.”
Baker Pitch continued. “Our Fisher Island in Wisconsin next to one of only 2 New Islands — and we’ve identified some oddities involving that *second* New Island, in Georgia…”
“Which we won’t get to tonight. Go on…”
“In an alphalist of islands named Fisher, this Fisher Island, Wisconsin comes last. But if we *rotate* back to the first of the list, Fisher Island, Alabama would be next.”
“Notice on this map, Fisher Island (Alabama) is quite bigger than the one in Wisconsin. We now think this could be an *evolution* of the energy of Fisher Island, even further beyond New Island now. Wisconsin was a base to talk about the transfer from one to the other. But here in Alabama we have what seems to be the true center of the energy.”
“Alright. When are we going to talk about the mounds?”
In a minute, Bill.”
“The first thing we need to do to prove this is to *expand* our idea of Fisher Island here. Below the actual Fisher Island, on the much larger island in the Mobile Bay delta containing the mounds you just mentioned, there is a Fisher Lake, and also a *Lower* Fisher Lake. Together they form a kind of loose diagonal running across the larger island — with the mounds again. The concept of Fisher seems to be expanded or inflated to cover the entirety of the larger island. And we can prove this by noting some anomalies between this larger island and the Fisher’s Island in Our Second Lyfe, namely the abrupt discoloration of the surrounding river on the western side, and also the matching curves of not only the western rivers in each case, but also that internal river running from Mifflin Lake on the Alabama side — quite obvious, really, if you study it. You can see that as we switch to satellite view of the island.”
“Let’s skip that, Pitch. I know what you’re talking about. To me — and I’m *still* the most important one to convince — Fisher Island has expanded to become the larger island with the mounds. Next topic please.”
“Well, just moving a bit southwest of this officially expanded Fisher’s Island, on the Mobile County side of Mobile Bay, we have a population place named Axis — only one in US –and then just below that, a Pennsylvania — again, only one in the US of A, besides the state of Pennsylvania. But that is a state and not a town.”
“I know the difference.”
“Now remember, Axis asked Eraserhead Man for the fire demon Gus in (Collagesity) novel 9 so that he could make his High Castle *mobile*. And, expanding again, we can see he became even more mobile and moved from New Island to Fisher Island, perhaps much to his surprise. He went groundside again, wasn’t harmed like the other biological agents in the spaceship (already there), and located Ruby in her democratic empire just east of Meat City, changing into Tin Tin for disguise. But I think that whole subplot has gone haywire, Bill. Interference by Gwin, who is the same as Jill MacGill in Eraserhead Man’s Urbane Blue production.”
“You’re making my head hurt again, Pitch. The proximity of this expanded Fisher Island in Alabama to Axis and Pennyslvania is beyond chance, yes. Axis becomes Mobile through Pennsylvania — which is Eraserhead Man because of all the Twin Peaks stuff in that state.”
“Pennsylvania. Not Alabama.”
“Plus — he’s a pencil. That’s his nickname too: Pencil. Like Pennsyl(vania).”
“So,” continues Wheeler. “Eraserhead Man — Pennsylvania — gives Axis Gus so that the latter can become Mobile — in his High Castle –”
“And this mobility eventually lands him beyond New Island onto Fisher Island.”
“We should end with a picture of the mounds — dominated by one large mound, just like *our* Fisher Island. These are in the northwest corner of the expanded Fisher Island, Alabama.”
(to be continued)