X marks
PIPERSVILLE (CHIP SHOT) and SINK X
MIDDLE GAME.
LONG DRIVE.
“It’s the only X the Linden roads make on Maebaleia,” I speak to my avatar who stands beside this very crossroads. Or at least a rendition thereof.
“Satori,” he calls up in a small voice.
“Right,” I boom down. “What I said. Anyway, it’s between the two X’s we’re calling Middle Game and Long Drive. These 2 smaller X’s…”
“Smaller,” echoes Baker Bloch down below.
“Yes,” I say in a bigger way. “They must be part of one larger X, then. Logical?” I query.
There was a pause. “What about Sink X?” he says in such a small voice that I didn’t hear him at first. He was looking in the distance.
“What’s that?” I boom down.
“Sink X!” he pipes up. “Pipersville! Chip Shot!!”
—–
“I was sitting right over there on that bench, Baker Bloch — my Gaseous Bench — when the (Tarsus) attack began. Poor Tealy.”
“But… he’s still alive,” a puzzled Baker responds, seeing the colorful raccoon just this morning.
“Oh yes. I rebuilt him. Just a mechanoid, see. Not a real raccoon. Hence the color, silly.”
“Good. I’m glad he’s still alive. But I was thinking…”
“Karoz?” Tillie guessed. Both were contemplating the common teal color now. Or blue-green. “That would make me…”
“The Other Baker, yes. The female.”
“But I’m…”
“I know who you are.” Pause. “Now.”
“Well.” She threw up her hands. “It’s a mystery, then. Another one.”
Baker emits air (as well?). “We better speak about Chip Shot; and Middle Game; Long Drive,” he finished, further away from the beginning of this sentence than ever.
“Pretty easy. Chip shot, even. Sink X is a green that’s also a sand dune or bunker. Paradox. Two opposite things in one. Two *bordering* things, but getting on the green, especially with a long drive, is good, while hitting a sand bunker…”
“Bad,” completes Baker Bloch. “Two neighboring opposites combining into one.”
“And Chip Shot just a chip away from either. Perched on the lip.”
“Chip Shot… Pipersville’s original name?”
“A variant, historical name,” Tillie offers, coming into synch with her fellow core avatar. Another 2n1.
—–
“What next? Will you leave Rubisea now, Tillie? You and Tealy? Perhaps go on a journey to find seed in Grasslands which is Toppsity? Passing Golden Sink on the way? Where it all ends according to both me (as Pitch) and, let’s see, I think it was Dave. Firesign’s Dave.”
“David Ossman,” Tillie recites. “Archer.”
greener pastures
I’m tired of waiting, thought Option 02. I found a way out and I’m going to take it. Help out here, he groused. Chip in there. The kid be damned.
He stands up from the bench and starts walking. Inside.
Not as bright and colorful over here, is it Mr. Irresponsibility?
greener pastures 02
“Excuse me, sir? Sir?”
The Real Life man on the mower reluctantly halted his chores for a moment. “What is it, son?” he asked gruffly while the machine idled beneath him.
“I just came into town,” Craighead Phillips Option 02 decided to venture. “I’m looking for the center.”
“Center of town?” the man asked rhetorically. “Keep following this road.” He pointed down the street Craighead Phillips used to migrate realities. “Can’t miss it.” He then revved his mower up and commenced his chores. Only 1 hour before supper, he thought while moving away. And this Bozo threatened to make it even later!
—–
HONK HONK. Another mower. HONK. Traffic’s pretty heavy on this road. Better move over to the sidewalk, hmph.
The man said keep on going straight so I’ll keep on going straight.
This could take a while, though.
greener pastures 03
Bland Street now, thinks Craighead Phillips Option 02 while walking past an auto repair shop. Not Bland Road any more. But what’s wrong with that sign? All squiggly and stuff. Melted somehow? Better keep walking and not linger, though. It is what it is. Crazy world over here.
I have no reflection! he suddenly realized. Not real in this realm. But somehow: still real. He keeps moving forward.
He decides to ask someone else to check the first source. “Excuse me, sir? Am I on the right street to get to the center of town?”
“Stay away from me,” the man getting in his car barked. “No cash. No cash!”
Craighead Phillips Option 02 wisely moves on without an answer.
—–
I’m not even going to ask this woman where I am, he thinks. I can tell by the look in her eyes she’s not going to help, pheh. Stupid world.
back in Maebaleia…
“Ah ha. Finally found a use for that wearable pipe chair you gave me last Christmas.”
“Thanks for showing up Tracy. Like I said, I can’t find him anywhere. We were just scouting around the center of the continent, looking at places. We came here. I realized I had to go do something with the kid again and told him to just stay put till I got back. Then when I returned — and a long drive it was all the way from Pipersville — he’s not here. We talked about renting this house. Real cheap rent. In fact…”
“… it’s free,” finished his lover-on-the-side Tracy Austin. “I saw the sign outside. But this one is rented.”
“It’s in arrears,” he explains. “Just checking out the furniture.”
“Well I *hope* the real renter doesn’t come back.”
“He won’t. *They* won’t.” Second Life is so empty now, he thinks not for the first nor last time. Middle of continents — basically a wasteland.
“So dark in here,” complained Tracy Austin. “Can we get some light in this place? Will these blinds open?”
“Sure.” Craighead Phillips Option 01 touched the blinds to his side and back, automatically opening them.
Tracy Austin peered out. “What’s all this?”
Craighead Phillips Option 01 looked too. “I don’t know. Earth, I suppose.”
Interested, Tracy Austin moved toward the side window to take a closer look at something.
“2701 Bland Road,” she recited, then turned back toward Craighead. “This place got a computer?”
“No, but there’s one down at the office. I spotted it while trying to get out of this town the first time.”
“Do you have a key?” Both laughed at this.
—–
“Well. Is it there? Did you find it?”
“Just a moment,” Tracy Austin requested while still typing away. Then: “Ahh. *Bingo*.” She indicated the screen. “There it is. The same sign.
That’s where he is!”
Craighead Phillips Option 01 put hand to lip. “Jeepers I guess we’ll have to go in after him, then. I can’t exist, I don’t suppose, without Option 02.”
“*You’re* going in. I’m staying here with Katy. If something happens to you I’ll tell her you went away. To France.”
“Uh, I’m not going without a gun. I’ve heard stories…”
“Alright, Uncle Bob has a gun. We’ll go see him first. Then you’ll say goodbye to Katy. Hopefully not for the last time.”
“I know you’re joking…”
“I am?”
“Things use to be better between us.”
“Listen, Craighead. Craighead Phillips Option *01*. We gave you The Freedom, all you wanted. Blue Feather Sea, patterns. Astrologers around every corner. *Everyone* knows their sign. No chance involved in the playing of dice or cards. Freedom — Katy and I. Yet you still hang around with your other family.”
“My *actual* family,” Craighead Phillips corrected, not helping the situation.
“Alright.” Tracy Austin got up from the computer table. “Alright if it’s going to be like this I have a confession. I’ve been seeing someone else. A sailor of the Blue Feather Sea. Older man, admittedly, but I think it’s something real. We may even…”
“Get married?” Craighead was incredulous. “How old?”
“50, 55. Maybe 60. He’s *cool*. He has a good sense of humor. He’s built like a soldier and swears like a pilot. Katy’s met him, but she doesn’t know the circumstances. Yet.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
(to be continued?)
centering
We better get back to the ‘X’.
He was dreaming of that creature again who lived at the bottom of the Blue Feather Sea. Olivia. With aspects of Tracy but also different. Obviously a mermaid, yes, but something else as well. Whale? He can’t quite put his finger on it. But — different. Unique, even.
Something about the patterns.
—–
The Mermaid it’s been called for many long years now, son,” spoke Uncle Barnacles to Craighead Phillips later on. “It’s why, it’s why…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. But Craighead could translate: It’s why he can’t remember what year it is, let alone century. Craighead tested him later. “17th?” UB ventured.
centering 02
Oops!
centering 03
“Mermaid? What the flying f-ck? We always called that the Jellyfish.”
“Just humor me, Uncle Bob.”
“Uncle Bob?”
Broken
“Kate,” requested her mother. “What do you see now?”
*Katy* listened to the patterns in her ears. “War, of course,” she answered shortly, then paused, hands on headphones.
“Do you see a Jellyfish? Or a Mermaid?” optioned Tracy.
“Umm. Both!”
“Explain.”
leaves
“I believe there are witches in Toppsity, Hucka D., turning the elements upside down. Perhaps Marilyn herself, who, after all, caused a Niagara in the suburb of Ona to complete the 4.”
“Fiji,” Hucka D. *finally* speaks. “Heaven for the Red Dwarf’s Cat. It is good that the Truths are leaving town for greener grasses.”
“Start the seed business anew elsewhere,” agrees Baker B.
“Maybe,” Hucka D. attempts to add. “Maybe…”
“Yes?”
“In Sink X?”
“Golden,” probably corrects Baker B. Me, after all. I should know better than anyone. Me and Hucka.
“Say you got it from a man from the future, huh. Wish I had one of those back in the days.”
Hello Jinn (leaves 02)
“Jethro Tull!”
The pot got too hot. I was away too long. Rooster.
I recall something about the Hills of Bill. Lindens. Agreement.
Yes.
I remember something about Polk. Jim Polk.
“Care-ful.”
“Who is that?”
“A friend.”
“Jinn?”
“Slow down.”
borrowing
We start to wrap up the continent, south to north. Continent’s Edge seems like a logical, next step. “Anything left here?” Officer Biff Carter might say to an underling (not pictured). “Well sir,” the underling could reply, “there’s the red door in the bar.” “Let’s go,” Carter might respond firmly. “Show the way,” he could add, not seeing the landmark in his own inventory, since he is, at the core, Bracket Jupiter. The underling (surface identity yet to be determined): Baker Bloch, the (core) guy with the prime landmarks. “Let’s go!” Carter could reiterate, seeing his underling spacing out again. “Go go go go go!” “Alright already!”
—–
“Okay, we checked that out. Standard vampire stuff. Or goth stuff.” Biff turns away from the door toward his underling. “And who are *you* suppose to be?”
“Raggy,” his underling admitted. “Lemme check some other outfits.”
“Make it pronto!”
—–
“You guys smell something burning? Okay, okay. Not too bad.” He keeps scanning the underling. “Not too *good* but could be worse. And who is… wait, lemme guess. *Your* assistant.”
“This is Wanda,” Kirk introduced.
Carter shook his head. “Nope nope. Already a Wanda in this story.”
“Then, er, how about Alice.”
“Nah. Try again.”
He puts finger to lips in thinking mode; begins talking more to himself. “Ritchie — not a girl’s name; Betty — again: taken.”
“Taken,” Carter reinforces, and moves to the bar, talking to the reader directly while Kirk keeps vocalizing options behind him. He selects champagne for a drink. “While we’re waiting, let’s check out *my* backstory. It’s a good one. Better than Kirk’s I’m sure.”
We drift back in time. Back back back to when Carter first took on the case of the Missing Man About Time.
“We were in Oakley, where Little Annie got her name from. I was about the same age as my underling now, and kind of looked like him. Sort of. And I had an assistant as well. Well, we spotted the palm tree hemmed mound in the distance and I said, ‘Looks like a good place for a hideout.’ We’d been stalking the Man About Time for about a month at this point, but what’s time when you’re looking for such a person. I checked my watch. 8:88. ‘9:28,’ my assistant clarified (more for the reader). I’d been substituting number time for clock time several years now, dating back to my time researching that mashup puncture in time and space called Dark Side of the Rainbow. 8:88 is 9:28, 8:98 is 9:38, but 9:48 is just that and nothing more. Can’t let those things get too complicated.
“We moved toward the mound but stopped at the entrance.
“‘Pirate,’ I cussed, spitting on the ground after realizing we’d been tracking the wrong crinimal. ‘I told you Wanda Ritchie Bettie Taylor Twiggy.’ ‘How dare you call me that,’ she interrupted, and slapped my face. ‘I told you never to call me that again.’ Okay, we still don’t have a name for the dame, but I’ll work on it and get back to you reader. And also find the proper hideout for this… MAN ABOUT TIME.”
(to be continued?)
THIS SIM 01
There is no chance in this world, Marcus Fox Smartville thought wisely. That *could* be the girl of my dreams, the one to deserve the primmy rose.
She was waiting for my hug and I came. Let me take a closer look.
Eeh. Nose piercings! And that tongue! Not for me, sorry.
—–
Oh dear. The boyfriend. And my boat’s been derezzed. Challenge! Better amscray. Goodbye THIS SIM. Forever.
THIS SIM 02
“Always looking for connections, aren’t you?”
“Yup,” he admitted. “Catwoman I think. Half woman, half cat. Another type of underling.”
“Sooo. You’re the Cat(man), then. The Red Dwarf Cat. Always womanizing, or the door’s always open to it.”
“I think I’m irresistible,” he admitted. “But I have my limits. Nose piercings! And that tongue!”
“So you said.” You should maybe like the tongue, I was thinking but didn’t say aloud. But maybe it was pierced too. He doesn’t like piercings. But then again, they’re *shiny*. Cat loves shiny things! We better move on.
“Sooo. What brought you *here*?”
“It’s right next door. THIS SIM.”
“I see you still have your primmy rose. Are you looking for love in this sim as well.”
“Always!” He sticks out his own tongue a bit here, I observed. Pierced as well — should’ve known.
I didn’t want to delay any longer. “Let’s go see the sign, then.”
—–
“Flickering,” he stated. “Half and half again. If I wasn’t standing a certain way I would have never seen the address.” Another potential love! Marcus Fox Smartville muses. He couldn’t help himself.
“1 blocked,” I also observed. “Interesting. But from the house they were in…” We moved over to the house.
“… plain as day.”
“Where are they now?” he asked, making me puzzled. “I mean, if they weren’t me — us.” My face was still squinched up. “*Pretend*,” he requested firmly.
“I — I.”
THIS SIM 03
But I knew where they were upon pondering/wandering only a bit further. Starting right next door.
Hills of Bill.
THIS SIM 07
“I thought you said I didn’t have a reflection, Bettie, and that I’m not real in this world.”
Bettie looks over. “It’s some kind of trick,” she replied after studying the situation while not moving from her own position. She’d been turning a lamp on and off while standing just outside its lighted circle. “You must have touched something and triggered it.”
“I must have sat on it.”
“There ya go.”
“Rowan is a strange sim,” Buster replied back to his fellow tiny wife. “There’s a man named Bean in the Real World who is also a Rowan — Atkinson I believe. A flattie version of him exists in Collagesity, um, *7 Stones*. Runs the library there. I should check out the 7 Stones library soon. See if anything is different from the Collagesity one.”
“You know we don’t have time for that. Between schooling and scouting there’s no room!”
“We can make room. The Room.”
“Hmm.”
“Let’s go (speaking of time). There’s a limit to how long prims will stay rezzed here anyway. This can’t be a base for studying the hills.”
“You already know where the base is,” Bettie replied. “Professor Suckaluck set it up all those years ago.”
“I know I know. I’m just scouting around the area to make sure. We *are* scouts these days.”
“For about 2 days more, yes. Then it’s return to Long Drive and create reports and then get back to studying studying studying. End of the 1st summer semester fast approaching. Soon June will slide into Juli and we’ll be eating hot dogs and groatcakes down at the 4th of Juli celebrations over in X-Town.”
Ever wonder what the X stood for? he wanted to reply, but realized they had no more time for dialog here.
Goodbye THIS SIM.
THIS SIM 04
“Well this is just a fine pickle, Buster. Professor Suckaluck’s super interesting smart house is gone!”
Buster was checking the About Land options. “And although we can rebuild — kind of — we can’t run scripts here. We’ll have to look elsewhere. Good thing I’m scouting out the total area, huh?” Buster puts hands on hips, defiant.
Bettie wasn’t going to respond to this. Suckaluck’s house should be here (!). Stupid, mutable Our Second Life. But the hills are permanent, she then thinks to reassure herself. Not going anywhere as long as the whole continent is around.
—-
We’ll stay here at the peak tonight, Buster ruminates. Perhaps make love to rejuvenate ourselves but perhaps not. Increase our draw distances to the max. Enjoy the view over the Shallows this way…
… and the (rest of the) hills the other way. Those super interesting hills.
(to be continued)
Sunklands 