00450501
Maybe I can wedge my way through those yellow and blue buildings over there.
Nope. Dead end. Oh well, maybe the green and red buildings down the way.
Bingo!
Free of Stompetoren and its Tiley ways, ha.
00450502
“Welcome back,” said business partner Ronald nonchalantly from the porch of Philip’s trailer as he approached. “Where’ve you been?”
“The *Netherlands*.”
“Have a good time?” Philip slammed the front door behind him without answering.
earlier:
“Final-f-ingly,” he says into his magical phone at the end of part 2 of his journey, an over 8 hour walk so far. “A legit windmill, and not just one this time, Lester. Several of them. *This* is the Holland, er, Netherlands I expected. But… still no f-ing tulips which are suppose to be everywhere here. Still no cu-clomp cu-clomp cu-clomp of the wooden shoes since I’ve not seen hide nor hare of any people. Live or dead. So I’m giving the whole *experience* so far a D+ now, upgraded from F-. One out of three obvious clues fulfilled.”
“Well that’s super, Philip,” deadpans listening Lester from the control room of his modest house in El Burro Heights of Lost Sanos up in Grand Theft Auto V. “I suppose those kind of grades take you back to elementary school where you graduated, what, 60th in your class of 60 from the 6th grade?”
“*9th* grade,” corrects an angry Philip, his default state. “90th of 90 in the 9th.”
“Right right. Aany-way,” Lester lets off, “can you still see Amsterdam in the distance?” Pause. “Phil-ip?” Another pause. “Philip?? Aw shoot,” says Lester to Mikie also with him. “Dead again.”
“Can you hear me Lester, you high school wanker? I *said*, I *see* it.” Philip shakes the phone as if the action would spring it back to life. He’s frozen in his tracks until part 3 starts. Then it’s on – to – Amsterdam, he thinks, turning happy for a change. He’s heard the pot is free and flowing but he’s mainly interested in the harder drugs like smack, maybe even heroin. Although he’s not holding his breath for any return to normalcy about the situation he’s in. Good thing.
Because Amsterdam held new terrors.
“F-ck… me,” he says to himself while spying the melted towers after emerging on the other side of the city’s harbor. “Amsterdam? More like *Rotter*dam here,” and then he laughs at his clever pun involving Holland’s first and second largest cities. Yeah, he could have graduated high school, maybe even community college. If he gave a damn. The life of drugs drew him in and held him back. If only he was on something here to explain *this*.
(to be continued)
00450503 (crossing)
“I was back at Day 1 even though I had travelled so far. I knew this was Holland still because of the old timey windmill.
“Soon I found the blue and yellow cross in the green landscape…
“… whose correctly aligned blue and yellow eyes as indicated by the red arrow on the map I’d found just before…
“… pinpointed the location of the Data Hall where I’d learn what happened to all the people. Where are all the people? has been a question running through my head this whole time. No cu-clomp cu-clomp cu-clomp-ing of the wooden shoes and all.”
“I see.”
“But making my way toward it I was blocked by something that appeared to be a giant bee with its eerie, almost, let’s say, alien buzzing…
“… which turned into something quite different as I dared to keep approaching: a different kind of crossing — a sign of warning. The windmill in the background told me that we were still in Holland, although, um, updated; more modern; taller… and, er, sleeker. I was still walking the correct course.”
“Of course.”
“Although in maybe a different time?”
“Take your time, Philip,” I said, noticing the sweat beading up on his forehead above his beady little eyes, blue and yellow as well? Nah, let’s just go with hazel. “So what happened next?” I continued to guide.
“Well, not a lot. The dream just ended there with the thing’s alarm lights going off with all the dinging and such. I wake up. Aaand: that’s it.”
He looks up for some sign of approval by me that he had done good. Time to let up with the grilling. We needed to move beyond that warning sign and get to that Data Hall. But not today. Philip’s feeble brain needed time to recuperate.
(to be continued)
00450504 (windmills)
00450505
“You are like Jesus in that you can walk across the water to get to your Dry Spot, your place of safety. Go ahead. In your own time.”
Philip goes for it. Yes, he can walk across water. He is a God in this place. He can even control the weather, which will come next. But first the Dry Spot, that Dry Rock in the Dry Spot. Here he can rest, he knows. He decides an hour would be good. Hour Rock becomes a secondary name. Hour Spot.
Fern leaves him alone for a bit in his special place, knowing silence is good. Rest from guidance too.
He’s walked across the water. He’s almost there. Just over there it is.
Ahh. There. He settles in. The rock acts like a natural chair for him. He is comfortable. He is one with this world that mirrors our own in dimension if not quite realism. Not yet. People are coming, he knows. Cars, horses, animals, *windmills* already here. He just has to find the Data Hall in those dreams to learn where all of them went, all his favorite humans. Like Fink, like Susan.
—–
58, 59, *60*. Now for Wet (Rock).
Suddenly he was in the clouds, making it happen.
Poo-wer!
00450506 (cars (doing it?))
One on top of the other.
One behind the other.
Mutual sharing.
00450507
In my dreams, I went back to our old homestead in the center left right upper lower portion of Nautilus, Lichen. It was in ruins but still standing. The land around it was barren; even fabled Mistletoe-Perch which resisted so much change before had faded and vanished. The homestead stood alone.
I went inside and found that barrel. We had some good times with that wine in that barrel, Lichen. Didn’t we?
00450508
I decided to skirt this arid seeming patch of land a rather large group of buildings nevertheless exists within, not trusting if the ground was toxic or not by the looks of it. While doing so, I fantasized about an imbalance of dry vs. wet, and that this place was a barren wasteland because another neighborhood, perhaps even far far away, became too wet and exotic at the same “time” (quote unquote, because time does not really exist). I found my thoughts becoming weirder as I trodded across this flat flat terrain. How would it end? Perhaps badly, very much so. Yet I had to keep going, nay, I was *commanded* to march forward by powers still unknown. But I had hatched some plans for remedying that. I had to become a *power* myself. God-like.
20 minutes later I stared down at the canal I was walking along and realized how alone I was in this world. Only Me Myself and I around — the Holy Triad — and only 1 of those counted for anything. Yes I needed to consolidate my power. Become all supreme, all knowing.
50 minutes later brought me to Fred (sheep). Fred had a *lot* to say to me; said he’d been lonely too standing in this field of corn without any company for the longest time. He opined strongly about The Netherlands’ economy, saying it was a world heavyweight in comparison to the actual size of the land. 131st in size (among world counties), 2nd in agricultural exports, he proclaimed proudly around the midpoint of our lengthy discourse, which, when checking later, I found to be absolutely correct according to 2020 estimates. I guess Fred would know, living in this country and grazing amongst its agricultural products like this corn all his live long life. We exchanged email addresses and promised to try to keep in touch before I moved on, bound and determined to reach the SE corner of Holland by part 10 or at least part 11 of my journey.
A little over an hour later I entered this grassy field dotted with poppies (*not* tulips) and spotted Fred again, even though he had to have been miles away before. “Told you I’d stay in touch!” he yelled at me when I approached. I decided that I needed to call Lester, let Fred talk to *him* to see what he had to say. But all Lester heard was baa-ing of course. I needed that sanity check.
(to be continued)
00450509 (25?)
Banned from my Nautilus homeland by an overprotective mother fearful of stalkers, suitcase in hand I walk just outside its boundaries and set my eyes and aim on the fabled wall city of Perch-Mistletoe just yonder up on that beige ridge, with half (Perch?) banned itself but the other 1/2 (Mistletoe?) free to roam and even live within as I currently understood the situation. But I ended up going further — to Yd Island in the SE of the continent and revisiting another sacred place that seems untouched and uneroded by the sands of time. That of the Ratzenburger Rabbit, one of my own. I get ahead of myself. I have to talk about Lexi front and center.
She drives up on her rough sounding, rough looking motorcycle basically at the beginning of my journey and soon we’ve joined forces in her quest to find what she simply called The One. “Wanna explore some haunted houses?” she propositions not far into the conversation. Why not? I thought. I have nothing to kill but time.
We started with the one with the barrel. Just on the opposite side of P-M from us. “Just ignore that giant candy sentry over there,” she said as we positioned ourselves a safe distance away from it. “He can’t see you unless you’re standing right under him. Learned that the hard way.” On my part, I was more worried about the suddenly darkness and the need for a flashlight to explore. This didn’t seem like a good omen but too late to back out. I consoled myself by saying that I’d be in the free part of Perch-Mistletoe by dawn’s early light, sleeping under a pagoda or something. Just over there beyond the wall.
And, yep, there was a barrel inside. Lexi seemed relieved that it “mostly contained–,” in her own words, seeming to break off at the end. Mostly contained *what?* I automatically thought upon hearing it. Finish your sentences please.
And then a little later the same thing came up. Pattern.
(to be continued)
00450510 (Nijnsel)
I came across this *pattern* of TILE buildings, green yellow red blue, and I knew we were in the right place again, this Windy City — City of Wind.
But the rain clouds seemed to be encroaching again, my God powers waning. I wanted wind, I desired wind. Wind came, removing the wet to another far away corner of the globe. Or at least The Netherlands, which is all that mattered presently. Blue sky if not quite clear sky. Hint of grapefruit, raspberry? Not in this case. And we weren’t hopping across this country as much as moving slowly but steadily in roughly a straight line, NW to SE, soon to reach its highest mountain — by far — of Vaalserberg, standing at an elevation of 1058 feet above the sea level from where we started.
I enter one of Holland’s many, many cornfields just west of town. Yes, rain definitely getting closer. Can I keep it at bay?
No. I enter the water to the west of this field, which the water from the sky meets halfway as it were; wet from above and below both. I had to think about this double-teaming aspect and try to course correct in the future.
(to be continued)
00450511 (De Mosbulten)
Okay, better zoom out and see where I am from this tip.
Oh, a Cock and Balls Lake (!), he he. But, let’s see, what direction should I be walking in, then?
—–
“See?” she said, pointing to the same kind of image found in one of those haunted places we were still exploring. “A red arrow indicating direction. That means we should turn the lights on to something.”
“I see.” Resonance.
—–
Turns out he was heading too far east from southeast after leaving Nijnsel (“Windytown”) about an hour back and needed to course correct here.
Which he did to reach the pictured house below.
Ahh, back on track, he thought, noting illuminated Philips Stadion in the distance from around the building.
00450512 ((more) animals)
Horses.
Bison.
And, as we’ve already seen: sheep (like Fred). But no humans except for this fellow casting his own shadow against one of those old fashion Dutch windmills this time and who doesn’t really count except to one.
That was about to change. As instructed by tech wizard and friend to the gang Lester from up above (or sideways or whatever) in Lost Sanos, Grand Theft Auto, he waits at the Ells bridge for the other human now inhabiting this Netherworld to drive up. But, standing here looking out at the canal heading in the right direction to end this, he’s had a good long time to think about the decision. He’s God-like or at least a God wannabe here. What is he when he returns to the, er, surface? Just Philip Strevor, small time criminal with big but in all likelihood impossible dreams for greater glory. And he’s a *bad* person up there — he admits that now. Down or over here — Hell, Heaven or wherever — it’s all morally ambiguous. He has to see this through, he’s realized. Find out what’s at the finish line. SE corner it is!
earlier:
“Okay, Mikie, I’ve arranged to have a *gold* car waiting for you when you crash. Not silver, not copper, not any other shiny metal. But: gold. If you choose silver you’re in the wrong one and you’ll derez in about 15 minutes I’ve estimated and that won’t be pretty. So make *sure*.”
“Got it,” said Mikie. God knows he knows what gold is like, he thinks. He’s dreamed about having it in great abundance all his live long life (live long life again?).
“I’ll set the coordinates to crash you as close as I can but I can’t risk landing on top of the rigged thing. So it will be at a distance, I don’t know, maybe 5-7 minutes away tops. That’ll give us 8-10 minutes wiggle room. Once you’re in the car you’re safe. The car’s body will become one with yours, just like (with) the plane before. You’re merely making a *transference* of the container.” He turns away from the computer and his typed out plans and toward Mikie to emphasize his point. “Do – you – understand?”
“I- I think so.”
“You *think* so… or you know so?” Lester wants a yes, which he gets with, at first, slow and then more steady nods and finally a verbal confirmation.
“Yes,” Lester mirrors, turning back. “You’ll understand or you’ll die. You can’t live without a body there. Only Philip can do that because, well you know.”
“Because he’s already dead,” finished Mikie for him.
“Yeah. So *don’t* let that happen to you. This isn’t easy to set up, believe me. If I wasn’t a genius of the *highest* rank–”
“I know I know,” says Mikie. “You’re a genius, Lester.” And Mikie wasn’t being his usual sarcastic self for a change. This was big, he knew. This was bigger that his dreams of huge amounts of gold, potentially. This was a gateway to the afterlife we were talking about. Something that could reshape the world as we know it — and bring them untold fortunes in the process. They could *control* the access.
—–
“Okay, Mikie,” he says to himself after disengaging from the plane and looking around. “There it is over there between those 2 buildings. Better hustle.”
“Made it! And 11 minutes to spare, ha ha.”
He goes inside.
00450513
He rolls down the window after pulling up. “Hey Philip, it’s me, Mikie! Get in the car. There’s room for 2 as Lester’s already told you. This is your chance, Philip. Get – in – the car.”
Without turning or acknowledging Mikie in any way, which was part of the plan so he wouldn’t get tempted and sucked in to the offer, he jumps over the rail he’s been waiting at for the longest time and into the canal below.
“You’re making a big mistake, Philip!” he heard from the bridge behind him as he continued to walk on water after landing with a splash. “Alright, gotta go! Loser! See you in the afterlife you SOB!”
And that was it. For Mikie.
(to be continued)
00450514
“I’ve been struggling to complete this piece for a long while. Could it be you’re the assistant Jack Shepherde promised? I was beginning to think he’d forgotten. Let’s test your artistic eye. Where should my last portion of lime green paint go?”
—–
“I ordered my feets to stop moving but it probably was just an illusion caused by the higher ups, the powers that be. I was still in control by them, not of them. Not yet. And probably never will given what happened when I laid down on that green green patch of grass that so attracted me. I had to lay there, commanded to again, I suppose. I intended just to rest my eyes and body for a second…
“… which turned out to be another hour, the same period of time I spent on that Dry Rock back in, where was it — not Windytown but the town before that. A couple of towns ago. Anyway, I’ve told you the result.”
Was his period at hard Dry Rock negated by this square of soft, cushiony green? I had to ask myself.
“Then, after another hour — the place I would be, say, if I didn’t take that long nap, hmmm — I found the plane that I *didn’t* crash. I began to think I wasn’t alone in this netherworld after all. Lime green as I still was, I began to fear The Other.”
“Thank you very much for this information, Philip,” I said, seeing sweat bead on his forehead again. Time to stop for today. Maybe tomorrow we’ll continue. Day 3? I’m not sure if there is such a thing but we’ll see.
(to be continued)
00450515 (grand theft auto)
Is that a red white and blue flag of The Netherlands up there? Philip thinks while passing, not use to such decorations in his journey.
At the same “time,” Fern, after having created her own, more limited Earth simulator along with her own bus for travelling through such, leaves Arnhem in the eastern part of The Netherlands, destined for Amsterdam more towards its west-center, a 98 KM trip. At Amsterdam she plans to take a specially rigged up gold car to the Ells Bridge and beyond, hoping to catch up with Philip before he reaches Vaalserberg at the SE end of the country. It will be a close race, she knows. That’s why she created her own simulator at a 1:10 scale compared to Earth instead of the 1:1 scale to same for Microsoft Flight Simulator. She’ll need the time saved, she figured.
—–
*Not* copper, she knew.
*Not* silver just up the road, which she also passes by.
But, dang, where’s the gold one that’s also suppose to be here? Has it already been *use*? She gasps. It’s already been used! she understands and starts recalibrating her goals and outcomes accordingly in her vast brain.
(to be continued)
00450516
“Quick, driver. To Vaalserberg. And hurry!”
—–
It was just a glimpse of green through the trees, but for the first time in his long journey across The Netherlands he found he had a legitimate rise in front of him.
The about 15 minutes later he climbed a rock face to get a much better view. Marvelous!
Yes, he was wise to jump off that bridge into the canal back there to avoid going home, he thinks while surveying the countryside before him, Lester and Mikie’s hard efforts be damned. And soon afterwards, he’d found that little fire in the road that couldn’t logically be there, also a first in his journey, and potentially much more important. He felt like a modern day Prometheus bringing humanity a gift from the beyond, proof of its existence and his own sojourn there.
Passing another kind of impossibility in this world, he imagines it riding on his shoulder to his final destination, the place of triple and perhaps even quadruple contact. And so it came to be.
Sunklands 