00430201 (model 2.0)
She came here in a boat…
… but not that one.
—–
“A new creator this time, boss. One called The Martian. Name is meaningful too, because it tells me how he got inside the glitch. Piggyback. On another content creator, Daydreaming Gamer in this case. Overlap. So I’ll fast forward a bit and start you with the flamingos. You’ll see the same during the day soon. But this is a way they get highlighted.”
“I see.” He knew they were approaching the glitch.
(to be continued)
00430202
“Okay I have them held for now. I’ve also hid the primary’s body to aid in our tasks.”
“Copy that, Ian. Steady as she goes.”
“One leads, one steers. I don’t know how long this can go on without heading off the rails.”
“Let us worry about that,” the voice spoke into his ear again. “You do your part is all we’re asking.”
—–
He thinks he can get away with this, seethes Redd across the way, indeed seeing the hidden with her replacement eyes made by Kapooshi. And so does fellow spy Page in the booth beside her, also selling tobacco, also staring. Between them they could write a book about their augmented experiences. And I got scolded for letting my *own* hang out by that *bookworm* hmph, she thinks.
But what Redd didn’t realize is that they are one and the same, like right and left of one body. Both reds. Wendy is being studied again.
00430203
She sits in the dark and stares at TV static while thinking about the artist whose first name is Tennessee and the musician whose last name is Kentucky. Both “former,” it seems, as in dead, possibly even murdered. Maybe even… one and the same? Shelley phones up Edward to talk about it. Hubby Arthur is off acting again in a far away location. The boyfriend will have to do.
“Meet me at Sarah’s,” she requested. “Let’s walk around the town together.” She didn’t add, “then come back here,” but it was implied.
“Let’s make it Lexi’s,” altered Edward, knowing Sarah was quite the gossip.
“On my way, then.”
Contractually, she was required to wear the Crazy Blue outfit at all times now, no exceptions. Except one.
Later she studies the sappy “Abduct My Heart” lamp given to her by Arthur for her birthday before he left. She begins to cry.
What did she figure out? That Tennessee and Kentucky were indeed one beyond the Black Wall.
00430204 (Night is odd)
“Where’s *Edward* today? Your boy.”
“He’s not my boy,” Shelley quickly shot back. “He’s just… a friend.”
“A toy? I mean, you’re just toying with him, right? Until Arthur comes back.”
“You know the story of Arthur. He’s away a lot. He… understands,” she decides to tack on.
“Shakespeare I’ve heard. Asia, Africa, Europe, maybe Australia and New Zealand even. Oceania. As far away as he can get from your loving arms.”
“What can I say, he’s a dreamer. Anyway, back to your original question, Edward is doing one of those brain-dazes with Lexi. They’re still fiddling around with the Petrochemistry Dam, trying to find that dead pop star in the neighborhood there. But I’m sure Edward has told you all about it, especially after a couple of your patented house drinks. Even numbered drinks on the house, pheh. When did 3, 5, 7, and 9 becomes not odd, Sarah?”
“He he. Woman’s gotta have a hobby.” She pours Shelley another drink, a 2 I believe. “First free one, Shelley. Drink up. Then tell me more about this Kentucky girl who went missing and is presumed dead. Bedside chat, we’ll call it.”
“Nah, I’m not going to go there.” But she takes her first sip of the concoction (Nightshine I believe Sarah calls it) and begins to forget her promise. Just like Blue Moon Kentucky before her. Sarah knows more than she’s letting on.
—–
Edward couldn’t stop replaying the moment. The pop star in disguise just… popped up! From behind that woman there.
With help from Lexi, he’s studying all angles and then some. Mysterious heat source in the thermal layer to the upper right. Could be *him* again. Beware.
00430205
4 seconds after manifesting, Blue Moon waltzes past “Source Woman”…
… before disappearing again in a puff of smoke while a billboard image of herself looks on from the distance with those Kapooshi replacement eyes she pimped while alive. Weird as all get out, he’s determined. Eating her own tail? Makes him think of Shelley again. Ouroboros.
“Better call it a day, Lexi. Thanks again so much for your help. We’ll solve this thing fer sure.” He removes the virtual reality googles, tries to become fully himself again. He can still smell the stench of the garbage all around him, feel the desert heat. 5 minutes later: “There, I think — it’s faded enough. I’m ready to go.” And he gets up out off the couch to go meet Shelley and tell her all the new developments, hoping she hadn’t gotten to the odd numbered drinks past 1 yet. Too late, though. Shelley had spilled some beans, enough for Sarah to start her own investigation into the matter. Black Wall indeed, she ponders later at her apartment upstairs, filled with the latest and greatest spyware equipment.
00430206 (KY and TN)
“There’s Blue Moon again, Lexi. Bigger than ever in life.”
“Just keep looking for clues,” she responded, not wanting that many distractions on the way to their ultimate goal. “The city will not give you everything. You must keep walking around the margins, poking around here and there and everywhere. Characters are obviously important. Blue Moon. Panama perhaps. Judith who is, well, *me*. And you seem to be the same as (1st person) V or Val, with an oppositely positioned Valerie lurking around the corner as well. The dam, boss. Keep poking around that damn dam.”
—–
The date attracted me. I had to ask. “Do you know… Tennessee?”
00430207
“I don’t trust the fish here,” said Wanda to Jenny just above a whisper.
“Oh honey, you don’t have to worry about those mercury poisoning deaths. All the fish in this town come from the *east* coast now, not west. That’s long behind us.”
“Noo,” corrected Wanda. “You don’t understand. I don’t trust — the *fish* here. Over there. Listening… I can hear them listening. I have that… talent.”
“Honey the only talent you have is coming up with conspiracy theories right and left. What was it last week? The birds reading our thoughts?”
“*Noo*.” But then Wanda remembered it was yes. Yeah, maybe she just is being paranoid. Black Sabbath Day over in the mega-mall after all. All those fairies will wear boots over there she’s sure. STOP
GO “Well, what do you think of it, Larry? Something else, isn’t it? The *Horns* make me wear it and that’s the last I’m going to say about *them*. Edward has to go along with it since they’re the big bosses. He’s only the boss boss. Besides, he seems to be paying more attention to Lexi these days than me — you know Lexi, the brain-daze wizard from 2 sectors over. They’re off to Primary Nightsity any spare moment they get. The only time I have Edward to myself is at night. Kind of ironic I guess.”
But Larry remained silent throughout all this, although he was interested as hell when Wanda and Jenny were exchanging the dialog I began this post with. Because now: he hears them too, just behind his head. Spyware all around in this town; in everything. Wanda has a right to be paranoid for certain because paranoia is truth in this case. Except for the shadowy “hatted men”. That’s the Benadryl she’s on for her allergies. Most likely.
(to be continued)
00430208
New Nightsity. New *street* in Nightsity, let’s say. And also TILE related obviously because of the green red yellow blue symbols above its sign.
Wanda can get her allergy pills here to make her more happy…
… but also make the shadowy hatted man she dreads so much appear more frequently. Can’t remember a darn thing after he shows up! she laments. But she hasn’t put the two together and remains oblivious to the drug’s side effect.
Fern is here to enlighten her, because she has enough trouble without this added layer and angle.
Like Redd in an alleyway 1 block over staring at a canvas covered body she may or may not have done in with her outstanding wickedness.
And what might be her partner in crime still cooking on a person nearby.
The answers may come from this onlooking gal, perhaps the 3rd of the group, or at least the 3rd in this alleyway configuration of living, breathing beings. Yes, Derek is fully cooked now as I’m checking. So: 3.
Wait. One more.
00430209
He was looking the right direction this time. The rollerskating waitress rolled in with a burger, a drink, a ketchup, a mustard as instructed. Shelley Johnston Struthers studied the abstract painting on the wall closer to the main counter while she was waiting for her own food. “Horror” it was called. She would have chosen something more neutral like “Lava.” The Everly Brothers blared from a jukebox on the opposite side of the diner.
Holographic fish spun around a pole outside, indicating we were still in some sort of Nightsity of one kind or another if we didn’t already know that fact.
I’m not sure exactly what’s going on here outside the diner with this floating food kiosk but this is Ianna and she’s either flashing someone a peace sign or indicating two of something with her outstretched hand. 2 Hills?
Might be.
Eggs are done, easy over for Edward and sunny side up for Shelley. Always. Thanks to the Horns.
Just upstairs as it turns out, checking on some of their other girls in some of their other windows.
00430210 (Frank (acceptance of a proposition))
“The spool table at the beginning of the section was a tip off (spool tables play a part in a number of my collages). Keep your eyes peeled.
“And so I went back and replayed moving past the ‘Horn Girls’ sign at slow speed, got the correct angle with the leany telephone pole to display the situation as best as possible.
“Then I walked near the mega-mall heading down famed Grove Street and similarly blocked out the hyphen between the two words with a palm tree: no fairies with boots around, though, ha.”
“Ha,” Lexi responded in kind to the boss, not the big boss but the boss boss still. Someone to answer to. Which she just did.
“Then I waited at the Blue Balls sculpture until it got fully dark.”
“Blue Balls. And that’s the same as Blue Moons?”
“I suppose. Then, after narrowly avoiding getting hit by a train (he forgot to look both ways before crossing the tracks), I see Redd. Standing under a streetlamp to illuminate her cause.”
“Younger version. And you say you don’t remember the encounter but Redd does. She told you about it later.”
“Yeah. She said we… well, you know.”
Lexi sighs. This had been a long day at it and it was 3:30 in the morning. Time to send Edward, her Eddie, back to the loving arms of his non-wife Shelley.
2077 NPC Issues 01: Twins
And these less than 3 minutes from each other on the same recorded walk from 4 months ago as of this writing. Next up: the rarer but still occurring triplet sightings, maybe even 4 at a time??
Video provided by the blog assimilated Youtuber “Lettuce Walk” (actually: “Let’s Walk”).
his pretend banner
00430212
Second shift for the flying noodle kiosk seen several posts back. Night time in Nightsity. Gloria has her own way of doing things, which includes less hanging out and more work to be done. Less flying about all over the place and more being grounded and sure of herself. She dresses modestly in comparison. Ianna is such a flirt with her willy nilly flashing peace signs and all, she thinks while watching the first customer approach. Like this one. “Can I help you?” she says to Horn puppet Shelley Johnston Struthers, trying to hide the judgment in her voice about the Crazy Blue.
Nearby Edward waits patiently with the food at a different venue while Shelley retrieves her sugary drink from Gloria. She’s not happy with just unsweetened tea like her Eddie.
But this was all planned. Edwina certainly has Cokey Cola and Spriite and the like in back. Just hid that fact to Shelley, enabling her to talk to fellow operative Edward alone and compare notes on the story. 43, both knew.
“How do you think the photo-novel is going so far?” asked Edwina with the appropriate number on her cap, turned around to make it less obviously so.
“Good I suppose.” He resisted the urge to say “fair.” “I hear… we’re back in GTA V again. Fellow named Frank. A writer I think. Not a hustler this time.”
“Red book,” Edwina elaborates about the primary work involved. “Starts with Redd from Jamestown Street; works in her blue bud Page. Pages about Page too.”
“I guess we’ll see how it all unwinds.”
“I suppose we will. Look for a physical copy of the book on Mars from the future,” she added. “Red planet after all. Seek Teebestia there. Seek *Asylum.* You should leave soon. In terms of ships, take the one after 909.”
“Like Snowden, right.” He spies Shelley in the distance receiving her drink from Gloria. “Thanks for doing this, Edwina,” he said, knowing they’d probably shared enough information to get them started again. “And thanks to Gloria for being in on this too.”
“She hates the Horns as much as I do. She’ll do anything to get back at them for what they did to her sister. Have you seen Ianna? Flying all around, hanging all about. Brainwashed. Oh… here comes Shelley.”
“So that’s what happened,” said Edward quickly in a lowered tone half to himself, then turned to Shelley just entering the scene. She takes a loud sip of her Cokey Cola to show her displeasure about Edwina’s drink offerings.
“Happy?” says Edward to her as she takes a stool beside him, pulls the tray over with the two loaded cheeseburgers Edward ordered. Before the planned “incident.”
“Suppose.” An even louder sip, right in front of Edwina’s face.
—–
“Tell me some of her weaknesses,” said Gloria earlier to Edward, trying to arrange the rendezvous.
“Well… she loves sugar. Can’t do without it.”
“Bingo.”
2077 NPC Issues 02: Twins 02
Siamese in this case (two heads on one, fused body). And two of ’em ta boot. Walker had to pause to take in the scene. Which I captured above (Lettuce Walk again — thanks!).
00430214
“Yo’ don’t understand. I want dat spool table. Dat shitz my f-in’ ticket out o’ here.”
“Fool. Why the f- yo’ talkin’ all gansta n’ all today? Yo’ sound like Stinch!”
“Hey, Stinch be lowballin’ us. Lowballin’ us shizzle like da bottom feedin’ pyramid dwellers we r’.”
“Can yo’ speak a lil’ plainer, Frank. I mean, yo’re use ta me talkin’ ghetto. Yo’ have a built in translator bcuz’ o’ yo’ goddamn mutha. My f-in’ muthaz from Leeds n’ datz in f-in’ England or somethang.”
“*All* *right*. *Is* *this* *bet*-*ter*? *Can* *you* *under*-*stand* *me* *now*?” He even affects a bit of an English accent to further the switch for his hood-pal Laramie with his present Leeds mother and absent Watts father, hood in both the neighbor and child meaning back there.
“Yeah biatch, datz betta muthaf-a. Naw say what the f- yo’ gotta say.”
“You don’t understand. I want that spool table. That object is my bloody ticket out of here!”
“There yo’ go!” returned Laramie to Frank, matching excitement with excitement and glad his talk turned from murky to clear. Now they can go get that table, roll it through the streets back over to here if needed. About 100 yards, Laramie estimated in his mind. Trick is crossing 5 lane Innocence Blvd. with it. But if they can drive a car 120 mph through heavy city traffic, he figures they can pull off this. It will be fun for a change. What if the police even catch them? What are they gonna do? *Laugh*?
2 days later:
“Whoa nelly, dat mo f- a done got away from us, Frank!” CRAAAAASH!
Oh well. Better it than them, I suppose. But Frank’ll have to find another yard table in which to write his Great American Novel on. The book of Redd with all those pages of likewise hood-pal Page will have to wait a little longer to start in other words.
00430215
The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.
–Ladies Home Journal, 1918
“One question, brother of mine. Why does it have to be blue?”
“Because pink doesn’t work,” answered left horned Jer to right horned Benny. Opposite in so many other ways too. “I tried it with Evelyn. You know what happened to Evelyn.”
“Sure I do. She turned into a boy.”
“Did you know,” said Jer, “that in the early part of the last century the colors were reversed and that pink belonged to boys and blue to girls?”
“Sure. We know that *now*.”
“After Evelyn, yeah.”
“After Evelyn,” echoes Jer’s weight challenged brother. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He can have all the girls he wants anyway, thanks to the power.
“If we want to get back to 1919, this is the way to do it. 1 after the 909.”
“Word.”
1 year earlier:
“W–what happened to the Hills, Jer?”
“We’ve *failed*.”
00430216
Fern sits down with the red book given to her by Teebestia day before yesterday’s yesterday and opens it up to the bookmark. The Martian sky was particularly rust colored today, she noted at her outdoor location, picked for privacy. Just like author Frank Lynn seeked in same before starting the work in his own backyard upon a table of not spool but it would have to do. She pulls out her knife to check the color. Yeah, she thinks, spying nothing above the handle in her hand. Definitely a rusty one. Better sheath this quick before she gets caught. Don’t want to show out a Cleveland boner, as they say. She could be president, she reminded herself. Beginning with finding the Diablo-Draco reversal in that black list of the 2 quick as a wink, unlike our friendly but dense former porn star turned nudist who was destined for a lowly one instead. The Tennessee Blue Balls sculpture in Lost Sanos is an interesting, new development, she feels — right there on page 43 and not 42 where it should be to answer all. Displaced on purpose. One after, again. Like her ship taken in here this day of mid June’s May, with unrecognized and unknown Edward Daigle only a couple of rows back on a mission of his own. She looks down and begins to read again.
—–
I had to walk by the object basically every time I went downtown so of course I was going to start thinking about how to make it my own, what I’d do with it if it were mine. First off, it was round, not square or rectangular like most tables. I could plan my Great American Novel as a circle, like a zodiac or something. I had rough ideas. All started with Redd of course, but then worked its way around to blue (Page). Then there was the ultraviolet gap to end — how to complete the thing. The last shock.
If I could just figure out how to get it to the house, I thought at the time. Too big to get into my car. Dense head that I was, I didn’t even think about borrowing Stinch’s uncle’s cousin’s pickup truck who lives out in Grapeshot in some kind of trashy trailer park or something with a bunch of white red necks. I figured I had to roll it, but maybe that was all part of the art. Because I ended up fitting that adventure into the book as well.
(to be continued)
00430217 (moomeries)
The moment Fern realized she was in the story too.
“The 3rd ball!” she exclaimed aloud in the Martian rust and dust. “I use to work there!”
Just around the corner from the big spool, in fact. She’d witnessed that same adventure too, watched it roll by outside her windows, heard the noise of the crash. Even talked to Frank at the time, encouraged him to keep on with his writing even though he didn’t have the table he wanted. They both looked down at the jagged pieces of wood lying all about, remnants of the object. The car that hit it in front of the car wash had moved on with minimal damage. But the dream: broken. It was up to Fern to help put the pieces of his life back together, have them make sense to himself and, eventually, to others through his art. This was raw, this was a plateau of raw. In short, she planted a seed, yes. She remembers.
Sunklands 