Serenity again
He was just a kooky old Japanese guy on permanent vacation. But at least he brought his slippers to Rose-, er, this *place*, unlike fellow vacationer Donald Farr before him earlier this winter. He’d heard the robot play the 2 “Gouldberg Variations” in a row, a realm favorite thanks to Merry. Bookends they were, and belonged together as one. Now he was ready for Zoidboro’s sermon at the Church of the Fly Lord behind him here. Perhaps he’d meet Peter today. Parasol said he would like him. Another old dude. And spoke a bit of Japanese, even.
—–
“The world is a windshield,” Zoidboro preached through tentacle covered mouth, “waiting to take you out when you least suspect it. Take Little Timmy Flick last week over on Highway 52 behind the old Tastee Freeze. Take Thomas the Elder this past Tuesday before the last Wednesday after Monday’s Friday at the Yoko Ona Parody Museum, in the parking lot even. Yea, parking lots can be dangerous too. Central parking lots especially. To get to a Square, you must always Times something….”
Ji-San turned to the man sitting next to him and spoke low beneath the sermon. “Are you per chance Peter?”
the return of Purple (and) Bear
“One of us is going to kill the other one, you know.”
“I know. (pause) I hope it’s you.” Communication bleeps from the opposite side of the room. They both stare over.
“The Oracle says it’s time for me to ride your back over to the island, Mr. Purple.”
He puts away the knife. For now. “Hop on.”
—–
“Faster. Faster!”
—–
By the time he reached the island, Purple (and) Bear had become one again. He stares over at his old house. The one stolen from him by Rules of Rose.
(to be continued?)
other returns
“If you take away the Fire Tree it all begins to make sense. We can peer back into a time when the deserted village was full of life and living. The days before Tully. The wonder years.”
“Was that before the mist or after?” Parasol asked, trying to be patient with Ingo’s historic ramblings. She had a meeting with Herbert Glenn Gold at quarter past 10. Yeah, she was pissed at him (hence the full name again).
“Before of course.”
She glanced out the window at the Fire Tree she couldn’t quite see from this angle. She couldn’t wait any longer. Time to *see* Herbert.
—–
“I was wondering where we would meet,” spoke up Herbert. Wonder again, thought Parasol. It was here she realized Ingo was right about the Fire Tree, the village. All of it.
She jumped right into it. No time for niceties tonight. “I want you to *get* her here. I want to trap her like a fly in a bottle.”
“Erm.” He shivered as her feet dangled menacingly above him. As he stood on one. “*Who* are we talking about here?”
“You know who.”
—–
George V. Norris, barely 2 feet tall, prepared to play the harp in his wee abode. “A Bach tune will do tonight,” he squeaked to himself, then reconsidered. “Or is it Buch.”
blooms
A miracle, thought Herbert Gold, looking on. I was just dreaming about this fenced-in place yesterday and no flowers. Yet spring is still far far away. I will mark this spot in my mind.
He takes second psychological photo and moves on.
Past the Petunia Trail toward his old home.
—–
“Snow or sand?” queries wife April Mae by his side, trying to snap him out of it. No more meeting makers and dying! she vowed day before Friday of last week’s Wednesday. He rubbed his non-platinum head, sat up. “Snow,” he responded, looking around as if trying to gauge the place he’s in. Seeing his color return, April Mae breathed a sigh of relief.
—–
“I was looking for — home,” he explained more later at the breakfast table. “But the bridge — the middle of the bridge…” Stopped him? he then thought. He still didn’t know where he was.
happiness
island boy
“It’s been a year since I lost Irma, Percy,” spoke Ji-San over to the curious elk. “It’s time to, well, move on.” He puts his hand over his mouth to cough.
“Rosehaven is (throat clear) *perfect* — I’ll go ahead and say the name if no one else will — but I’m not ready to settle down anywhere right now. Like that dude in Big Fish, you know, the one who went to that place with all the white people and said to them the same thing (ahem). Then he went into the forest and realized Bach is dead. Except it wasn’t Bach, hmmm (ah-herm).” He looked over at the elk again to reorient himself. Percy dutifully peered up from his munchings, meeting him eye to eye. Vegetation was simply tastier here on Crow Island. The End of Time people put a lot of work into this particular area of the Crow sim, one of 8 in the estate archipelago. Percy had no desire to move far from this spot. This was his home. But could it be — no, Ji-San must put that out of his mind. He’s a roamer. He can find home when he’s dead and buried in a grave. Irma, he thought, I’ll be back with you soon enough. Big Fish caught.
the F word
I’m going to *search* out meaning in life while I have it. Like this Great Fracture or Fissure. What is it? Why do people live around it? Fractured — like this world, this estate. Why exist here?
—–
I’ve got to get out of here! thought Duncan Avocado while staring out from the Great Fracture or Fissure sim at the Spiral Jetty over in Hambone. Create some interactive land art; take some Real Life photos; something! Jackson Bloch did it. I can too!
But, no, his assignment tonight was to head down to the Last Drop at the west lip of the Fissure and interact with the locals; try to get some dirt on what’s going down. Besides lip rocks.
—–
“I dreamed last night,” began weight challenged Gabriel again, “that the Fissure was a great mouth, trying to tell us something. You know, that rock in the middle, that pillar, was the tongue.”
“We Camptons like to call it *Fracture*, reiterated Jed across from him for the hundredth time. It was a great debate: Fracture or Fissure. Another one of those split worlds, like we’ve seen with continental names Maebaelia or Satori. Another of those South-North separations, even. Because the South side of the Fissure, Camptons included, preferred Fracture, while the North side — Gabriel, et al. — preferred the obverse. One could *observe*, from above, the mouth speaking, true. Breaking away from Gabriel’s glare, Jed allowed him to continue his story, name problem set aside for the moment. “Alright,” he encouraged. “Go ahead.”
Duncan listened carefully from a nearby chair as the fourfold truth was told about the sim.
report 04
We understand the mysterious cactus bud art depicted on this Northerner’s rock is actually Podge and Spleenburster, who we already know from the Monoflo Pinion book found in Hambone.
It’s the oldest story in the world. Two men bicker over territory only to resolve their differences via a nice, shared meal.
I include the whole story at the end of this report for context. Note that it’s the Great Fissure in the book, not the Great Fracture. Northern appellation, then.
According to Gabriel (again), an alternate text with just words and no pictures is titled “Olive Green Pink”, which he claims is about 10x as long, or about 200 pages he estimates. I am still looking for a copy. I assume it goes into much more detail about the lives of this ghoul and mutant, along with the smoothskin or cowboy, the Pink of the title obviously, as Olive is Podge and Green is Spleenbu(r)ster.
Another note: Gabriel is a channeller.
Here ’tis:
THE GHOUL & THE MUTANT
roamings’ end
Duncan Avocado was wandering around the various stairs, tunnels, beaches of The Rot, thinking he’ll never be able to figure out The Waste. Huge! And dangerous.
While ruminating this, he spots what appears to be a face in the rocks at the top of a nearby, ruined tower. I’m not one to focus on seeing faces in random patterns (pareidolia), but I thought I would note this one, especially since it seems to represent a *particular* face to me. That of Richard Milhous Nixon, our 37th president who resigned in disgrace in 1973 and was known, through the infamous Watergate Scandal, for his trickery and deception. A nickname became Tricky Dicky.
I’ve highlighted the face a little through black outline to the right. He even appears to have a little horn sticking out of his forehead, marking him as the Great Deceiver. Compare with here (hint: Nixon’s conspicuous nose is, cartoon-like, exaggerated in the rocks):
In his new book One Man Against the World, Tim Weiner explores some of the questions surrounding the presidency of Richard Nixon, pictured above in the Oval Office on Feb. 19, 1970.
Duncan also thinks back to the 13 billiard ball he found fronting a Southern residence of The Great Fissure, just beyond its lip. Or I guess, since we’re talking about the South, we better call it the Great Fracture or face ramifications.
Note the horns again in the “hell’ sign above the horseshoe framed pool ball.
This could be the home of Fracture biased Jed Campton, then, but Duncan couldn’t tell. There was no one inside. Duncan had a hard time tracking anyone down in this sim, and considered himself lucky that there were weekly meetings of residents at the Last Drop where he could *eaves*drop on local gossip. The Gossipers they called them back in Jackson Bloch’s day. Before the erasure of East-West. He understood that part too, thanks to Gabriel’s dream.
(to be continued)
“Countdown”
A series of pictures inside.
But what Duncan found really curious was the seeming resonance with the 100 Story Building still present as of this writing over in the Kowloon sim, understood through notes supplied by his employer (Pot-D). Specifically Story/Room 87 and its own symbols of billiard balls: stools representing 8, 3, 2, and then also the 1, but with that particular seat covered by a laptop with a prominent XVideos sticker. We’ve talked about them before in this earlier post of this here photo-novel (17).
Note the visible stools 8, 3, and 2 add up to 13 again. Something is hidden or covered up in each case, the Great Deceiver in action.
Duncan, then, has a plan. He feels his time in The Waste is over, East-West loss exposed. Much like this particular version of Kowloon’s 100 story building has served its function and is scheduled to be demolished in a day or two or so. He will *sit* in that room, waiting for the end. Then dust himself off in the rubble after the 87 story fall and move on from there.
He decides to write a song about the experience to mark the time.
1 2 3
Benny Right Horn was swaying while listening to the song of the wind and enjoying it thoroughly. He’s decided to at least temporarily abandon his search for Tessa on the railroad and stay here, in a secret camp next to the cascading water at this particular cave mouth. Soon, gun in hand again, he will run into likewise EOT visitor Jackson Bloch, also looking for the grandchild of Herbert Gold. The meeting may not turn out as expected.
In fact, here he comes now from the direction of Wabe. Or is it Wabd? Rebl would know. She’ll reenter the picture soon as well.
In fact, there she is.
“I heard clanking.”
Found
Tronesisia sits out of the way on the docks so that Baker Bloch can get a shot of “pipe alley”, leading to the doctor. He suspects this may be the Dr. of “Lamb”….
But then Baker Bloch changes his mind and has Tronesisia interact with this so-called doctor, who turns out to be an old friend: Dr. Diper, who helped her (and her parents) out immensely when she was a mere baby. Before she became, well, robotic. Gynoidic.
“It’s so so good to see you old friend,” he began, instantly recognizing his work. Perhaps his greatest work.
“Likewise Dr. Wiper!” cheered Tronesisia, just glad to be in a scene again.
“Diper,” corrected the doctor. “But we’re both grown up now. Call me…”
“Peter?” Tronesisia guessed. Yes. It was Peter. One of ’em.
Clanking within. The doctor was working on another case. Another Peter.
“It wasn’t going to hurt me,” he practiced, and then swiped his bloodied knife in front of him again, a built-in reflex action.
“Good, good,” the tv doctor cooed. “*Why* wasn’t it going to hurt you?”
Jack appeared beside him. Glowering. “Yeah, *John*. Why???”
ground
Feng Sui and Qi stare at the door waiting for customers that never come. “Damn that Fish Head,” sitting Qi exclaims at one point. “Damn the Head and the Fish,” reinforces her standing sister at the time, then later thinks, while still standing and staring over: maybe we should fix the bullet holes in the door. Maybe that doesn’t help with the customers. The Store Zero slaughters were a long time ago, after all. Maybe it’s time to finally heal the wounds. “We can’t have a repeat of the past, sister of mine,” she speaks down to Qi after telling her the same. “Oh *no*,” Qi doubles down. They both know, no matter what’s going on with Fish Head and the Bird above them, that they cannot return to the ugly, brutal past. The Dark Days.
Qi rises from the stool. “I’ll go try to find some sealant.” ‘Bout time.
—–
Later: back at their nearby apartment…
… Qi dwells on the dark past…
… while Feng Sui discusses what to fix for supper with Uncle Jack.
“Quinoa all right?”
Jack: “You’ll have to ask Uncle *John* about that,” indicating the man sitting in the rocking chair on the balcony. John Lockfry 01. Been a long time.
not today
I’m very close to the answer, Axis thinks while staring up.
He turns. Very close.
He buys the “white eye” offered on top of the old drum can for a linden dollar, wears, and instantly becomes blinded.
“*Shite*.”
seeing
There was only one place to go.
“I can’t see, Fish Head. I had to borrow an old man’s cane just to get here. He’s laying back there in the alley — may want to tell the local authorities in an hour or two. Make it two… since I’m blind. Anyway, you better tell the Heart Queen that I’m going to have to abort the mission.”
Fish Head began mixing the booze in his hands again, eventually saying, “she’s not going to like it.”
“I know, I know,” Axis followed quickly. “Just tell her.” He points to his sightless, red eyes. “Not much choice.”
Fish Head retrieved a glass underneath the bar and poured the mixed drink in from the canister. He pushed the glass toward Axis. “Here. Drink this down. Then have a re-consider.”
Axis knew he wasn’t going to “have a re-consider” but took the drink anyway. Free booze was always a weakness. But Fish Head, of course, knew that already. “Go ahead,” he urged. Axis drank.
—-
He woke up in a trench beneath the water. He wasn’t blind any longer — looked up and saw a spinny red, fabric-like thingie wielding scissors and knife in metal hands. Another doctor.
He knew he had been fixed up.
He stands up and makes his way through the trench back to the surface. Still in the service of the Heart Queen obviously.
price to pay
—–
“I can’t believe it,” Guy Benjamin exclaimed a little later to Grandmama after she broke the news. “Grandpapa’s dead!”
“Did in with his own cane,” she explained, her voice starting to waver. “The old fool.” She was inconsolable for months, maybe years. Axis had done a bad thing. A bad bad thing. We must reexamine the ultimate motives of his character in light of this horrendous act.
tables
Axis again worships Lu Ellen Hutchison (or Hutchinson) before entering his NWES coffee shop. Who is now his wife, at least last time he checked (Wednesday).
He enters the coffee shop proper…
… only to see two avatars sitting at his favorite table instead of the one he expected. The conversation already taking place was briefly interrupted.
“There he is,” whispered Man About Time to Tracy Austin. “Behind the column. It’s as if he doesn’t think we can *see*.”
They talked about many things that night, the two of them and then all three together when Axis finally came out of “hiding”. One by one (by one), they began to understand all revolved around Peter — after all, the only Variant at The Table who was never a Variant. Peter and “Lamb”. They vowed, 3 hands clasped together at the center of *this* table (standing, remorseful Axis from the side), that Grandpapa didn’t die in Vain. Because, of course, we already know he died in Kowloon. His “Lamb” will live on.
“I am pleased,” I can hear him say from that Great Elderly Center in the Sky, lost cane back in hand again.
Sunklands 