00460201 (time reversal)
—–
“Well it’s just beautiful hair, Ms…”
“Wilson,” said Wheeler. “Wheeler Wilson.”
“Like the dams, then,” responded stylist Sep to this.
“And the Vice-Presidents, ha (!).”
“Oh yes, that too,” said Sep, barely remembering the latter fact from her “1800s Sex/History Education” elective humanities class taken over at the local college along with all the cosmetology ones needed for that associate degree. “Soo… what’ll it be today?” Marveling Sep was thinking while continuing to wash: I personally wouldn’t change a thing if I had such luxurious locks.
“Chop it all off (internal gasp from Sep?). Dye it pink. In *short*, I want the Butterfly. Number 25. I saw it on your ad.”
“Oh, *very* popular. All the Butterflies are selling well currently. Must be the Spring in the air. Time of transformation,” she waxed philosophically. “Change.” Washing done now, Wheeler sits up as Sep begins to towel her dry.
“Indeed.” This long hair Magika style is for the winter, Wheeler thinks. She wants her scalp to breathe now. Sunlight; warmth. And… a new man. Who is the same as the old man. Old Man Newt, ha, distinctive in his growing greyness. Will meet him next. Under the parrots, or as close as they could get.
—–
“What do you think?”
“Perfect.” But while saying this she was looking at the reflection of the guy in the next chair over instead of her own. So familiar. Where had she seen him before? And why was he just sitting there instead of getting his own hair cut or styled? Queer.
(to be continued)
00460202
https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxrWLOlTnZnis3DL3vcrjY0yIbOfFMHBA
The 1st Lettuce Walk video of this Cyberpunk 2007 Ultimate Ambience playlist establishes HOME (Kabusie; entered immediately after lightning strike at 12:21).
The 2nd Lettuce Walk video of this playlist establishes CENTER (holographic fish of Corpo Plaza — side note: Wheeler also states that she’s this center as well with her own two red and blue fish (more soon?)).
3rd Lettuce Walk video in the playlist reinforces CENTER by pairing it with another (word) to make CITY CENTER.
https://cyberpunk.fandom.com/wiki/City_Center_(2077)
4th Lettuce Walk video here establishes first move away from CITY CENTER, where center, with small letters this time, becomes internal to the video itself (3 monks at bamboo wall).
And this is where we are now. WELLSPRINGS remains super important.
(to be continued)
00460203
“You’re remembering.”
—–
“Thanks! I was ready to move on.”
00460204 (Veyot’s View)
I plan to keep it as clear as possible toward the Nawt Vaya inland sea from her computer desk, ha. Doing my part anyway.
And has that chicken there mistaken a mouse for an egg? Have to think about that. 🙂
Wonder what’s cook’n?
00460205 (Butterfly Kid)
Now back to Jack at that other treehouse across the water — just beyond the rocket over there. And Fink of course. Bimbo? We’ll see.
(to be continued)
00460206
She was sitting on a trash bin at a local hot dog joint, taking mental notes.
“What do you think about Nawt Vaya so far?” asked senior Wanda Spotify to junior transfer Leonard Johhannssonn about the state university they both attend, the former destined to replace Peter Melanchton as summa cum laude graduate of her class.
He smiled, thinking of what just went on in their secretive 12×10 getaway cabin just over there. He’d seen… paradise!
“Welll?” she asked, addicted to answers (which made her such a good student). Then, looking over at Wheeler on the trash bin, she caught the synchronicity. Oh, well *that* won’t happen again, she thought. Until tonight. Studying and attending classes first, of course. Then they’ll meet back here at the hot dog stand around 6-ish. Wheeler took note of that too.
—–
“Why are we here Wheeler?” questioned on again off again hubby Newt.
“Just shussh,” she said not much above a whisper. “I’m trying to listen.” To soothe Newt’s then perceived hurt feelings, she added, “I’ll tell you when they leave.”
Their one hot dog came, neither being much of a meat lover. Unless it’s Wheeler.
(to be continued)
00460207
Time to go see what the boys are up to.
—–
“Thanks for joining me on this little venture.”
“Sure,” he said. “Vegetable garden can wait. Besides, well…”
“Yeah. Potential company back there. You’re going to have to be careful.”
“*You’re* going to have to be careful.”
“Soo… (sigh) This is where it happens, the magic, the view of paradise that boy mentioned.”
“Suppose so, Wheeler.”
“I mean, we saw them head in this direction. No lights. Like now.” Here Wheeler once again wonders if Newt and she would ever be a proper couple. Probably not, she concludes once more, a broken record, a record missing some letters in the middle to make it real. Simply because he’s Baker Bloch and that’s not allowed. Not *here*.
“Right, right. Stayed there — here — about an hour. I suppose that’s enough for paradise.”
“Yes,” said Wheeler nonchalantly to this. “And over there too, that building over there.” Wheeler remotely opens the window to the shack, points. “A treehouse as I’m checking; ‘nother place they go now.”
Treehouse, she ponders. Like the boys live in, with a shared robot computer on the way from their home world of Oooo as well. Should be arriving by next Tuesday’s Thursday.
“Yes, I remember when we were young and full of energy like that,” says Newt. Now just old and tired? he thinks to himself. He’s 50 going on 67. And Wheeler… he supposes she’s at least in her late 40s. Doesn’t look a day over 25 (he looks over). Well, 30 (pause) 35. Body aging gracefully, though. And so is his, he realizes. This works down here and that works up there. Both can happen.
Plus there’s The Abyss to consider, the writhing. Not Hell, but a kind of prison anyway (like Shelley is in?). Newt’s seen glimpses when he drinks his two daily 4 shot lattes too close to each other. 319. Must think about that more. Nawt Vaya — 319, hmm.
“Wheeler?” He looks over, sees the eyes. “I’ve decided to give it a shot.”
“What shot?” she shoots back.
“You know. *That*.”
“*Here*?”
He thinks of The Abyss. So many writhing in The Abyss. Trapped. A date to begin, yes. Start over fresh. Hot dog joint out in the sticks won’t swing it. Something upscale, classy. Wheeler can wear one of those discount gowns she’s been collecting recently, hmph.
“Are you asking me *out*? Hubby?”
(to be continued)
00460208 (Palm(er)’s View Way…)
… as in, stuck on Palm’s View Way several seconds after this provocative introductory view of Panam(a) Palmer in the Cyberpunk 2077 game. Could be a purposeful juxtaposition in the “1 Hour of Cyberpunk 2077 Fails” video here but probably not.
And may I remind, this is the girl V(al) the 1st person protagonist of C2077 is stuck on, while adopted internal soul twin Jonny Silverhhand prefers Judy Lexi over in Kabusie. Kabusie as in derived from caboose here too, come to think of it. Both girls attached to the word.
I put the Bakers family patch back in my pocket to end the game again before it even begins and move on…
00460209 (Nawt Vaya Free State)
My Nawt Vaya seaside property has been restored after an unfortunate accident that wiped away all former structures. Short story: I now own the land instead of renting it.
Compare to the old setup:
The big thing, you’ll notice, is that Newt’s Big Victorian Townhouse has been moved from the center of the property to its edge down on the beach, replacing that church also pictured above. This sits in a separate, private parcel from the rest I call Newtonia where Newt can be Newt and away from it all.
Except for the human boy Fink who is using his attic computer until Bimbo shows up next week sometime. I think. Then the latter will serve as Fink’s gateway to games, etc. Stay as long as you like up there, says Newt to the boy when he arrives, usually every day around 5 and then usually sticking around until 7 or so when Newt starts watching his shows with the wife and Fink returns to his treehouse home to eat with his bestest mate Jack the Dogg. Oh: Wheeler? Yeah, she’s around too. Just don’t know where her base of operations is yet. Not Newtonia I don’t think. Although she’s obviously there sometimes.
Also Mabel’s cottage up on the hill hasn’t returned, freeing up some prims for skybox rezzing and such.
(to be continued; very excited!)
00460210 (Boo!)
Sans Newt now, Wheeler was testing out more locals and taking more notes while also trying out new outfits, this one called Fern (dress) with kind of matching shoes I suppose.
“Excuse me, ma’am. The bathroom’s locked with no one inside. Do you have the key?”
“Bathroom’s *broke*,” exuded Gertrude Witherspoon from Grapeseed, a person dying on the vine.
“Well can you tell me where the nearest public restroom is? My husband and I were just passing through on the way to Chilbo (she lies).”
“Mmmmmmmmm. I *said*…. hmmmm…. let me…. think… ummmmm.”
“Well, never mind,” said Wheeler. We’ll just do it in the grass beside the road.”
“That sounds best,” the woman said with no irony in her voice. Did she really think this was the best solution? Would *she* resort to that?
Wheeler was about to walk through the front door in a huff when…
“Oh wait, young person.” Young person! Wheeler thought. The old hag had just redeemed herself, ha. “Bert’s in his office today for a change. Bert has an extra set of keys. Just knock on the door — ’round the poster there.” As if she couldn’t be bothered, Wheeler thought, watching her continue to just stand there and pose in various ways. Provocatively? Could be if she were, say, 60 years younger, Wheeler thought, and then also thought that’s not a very nice thought. *She’s*… well, she always says she’s 25 working on 39. But those days had passed. Just call it a Jack Bennyism vanity.
Going past Gertrude again — bathroom’s broke *pheh* — she gently knocks on the door.
Bert, or who she presumes is Bert, calls back in a pleasant enough voice to come in. She goes in.
But not before noticing what appeared to be Gertrude prominently appearing in that poster. Queer! she thought.
Then the same poster inside along with another surprise.
“You!”
And just like that she was gone.
00460211 (the 1 that got away)
—–
“It was the perfect balance, Wheeler. Our Collagesity should have been integrated into NWES City, lesser to bigger. Red yellow green blue but also orange as the 5th.
“We failed.”
“But now we have a way to redeem ourselves,” balanced Wheeler, wiser in worldly ways than ever. The Baker Family here is still strong. And now with a new home. A new CENTER.
Let the butterflies fly I suppose.
(to be continued)
00460212
Dali Park.
Tall matches tall, as tall as need be.
The (Dali) Tiger that got away.
What is he talking about beneath the cypresses in this wee woods of my Nawt Vaya Free State hillside parcel called Old Newtonia for now? Can’t quite make out the words.
Wait. I definitely heard something about pirates and a treasure map. Pretty sure of it.
Full circle, then.
00460213 (power)
“Sir?” (pause) “Sir?”
“Oh yes, young Fink,” distracted Newt finally acknowledges his presence at the door to his study. “How’s it going? Everything alright with the computer upstairs and all?” He didn’t look at Fink Humann, kept staring at the screen of his own computer.
“Yes, fine sir,” said Fink. “It’s just that it’s 7 o’clock. Time for me to leave. I’m saying goodbye is all. Like, er, like I do every time I come over here… at this time.”
Newt checks his watch not on his arm, gives a little start. “Oh dear, didn’t realize it was so late. Better wrap this up. Well, er, thank you, Fink, for telling me the time and the lateness of it all. And I suppose I’ll see you again… tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is a big day, sir.”
“Please, Fink. You can stop calling me sir. You’ve come over, what is it, almost every day for the past 2 weeks?”
“Except that Sunday when Jack and I went plane flying, yes.”
“We’re friends now,” emphasized Newt from his chair. “Come over here, actually — I know it’s getting late and you need to get back to the treehouse but I — I want your opinion on this. I’m serious. Here.” And Newt waved him over, which he complied with. “What do you see?” he asked as Fink Humann also stared at the monitor with him.
“That’s er, your wife,” said Fink, seeing her image dominating the screen. Fink knew this was Wheeler now and not another form of their precious Princess Pinky Gumm. Wheeler herself told them that during a visit the other day to their treehouse.
“No, *behind* her. What do you see on the wall over there?”
“Um, JEO — GEOT,” he read on the poster. “Jeogeot,” he combined.
“Very good. The continent we’re now on.”
“Jeo-geot,” Fink repeated. “Jeogeot,” he collaged again.
“Yes,” said Newt. “Fine and dandy. But what else is there?”
“Um… people.”
“People, yes. And…”
“Dinos.”
“Dinosaurs, right. Aannd…”
“Um, an elephant?”
*Elephant*? Newt thinks. Does young Fink here not know what a giraffe is?? But then Newt realized Fink had inadvertently given him the answer to the riddle he’d been pondering so deeply about all this afternoon and early into the evening. The phone rang on his table. Wheeler obviously, Newt thought without checking the number.
“Thank you again, Fink. We’ll be talking soon.” He pats him on his shoulder to signal their time was done.
“But not tomorrow,” Fink says while walking out of the study, making Newt realize that tomorrow was the day mechanical contraption Bimbo was suppose to arrive from Fink and Jack’s native Oooo. Fink might not be coming around as much after that, and perhaps not at all. He’d miss the lad if so. Perhaps there was another way, hmm. He finally answers the phone that’s been ringing all this time.
“Where *are* you?” Wheeler emits.
Where are *you*? Newt wanted to say in return but knew it didn’t matter. Could be anywhere in the world… or nowhere. He’d find her whatever. Just up the stairs from down. “Be right there,” he said not into the phone but in the air all around.
00460214 (a new high and low of it all 04)
Time to take the next step.
And the next number. Power *off*!
—–
“‘Bout time.”
“*Sorr-ry*”
00460215
What’s going on here? artist Barry De Boy w/ glowing red tie wondered about the meeting in the wee woods. Pirate treasure? he picked up. Islets of Langerhans?
He then notices it moving toward the group from between the legs of the nearby elephant giraffe. Dali Tiger. Was he dreaming? He must be dreaming. But in pinching himself he doesn’t wake up. Finished with the legs, the dream tiger was upon him, AAHHHHH!
With a start, Barry, sans tie now, woke up on the couch in his new Jeolla rental perched atop a scenic cliff. Wendy, still in a pure white dress instead of her usual striped one, was already kind of awake on a nearby chair, having sort of observed him through the night. She’d been summoned but had arrived late. Barry was already asleep by the time she showed up. She didn’t think it wise to rouse him. She wanted to see what would happen. Would he put the tie on again? Would he have one of those Dali dreams?
Turns out it was so.
00460216
Later while Wendy went to the SL Marketplace to buy a new dress with unruined stripes, Barry perused various algorithmic offerings on his Youtube premium subscription service. Soon a video about a particular painting shown in the 60s classic sitcom “The Andy Griffith Show” popped up and he couldn’t resist. Turns out… well: Dali again. Let’s listen in. Fake dialog here we’re talking about, but still seems to fit. 🙂
“*Child’s coffin*??” Andy exudes.
“That’s right Andy,” says Barney, standing proud before him after pointing it out. “Read it in a magazine over at Floyd’s. I’ll help you with things like this, Andy, keep you up to date on all the modern trends. Yup (he sniffs in satisfaction about knowing something the seemingly all knowing sheriff of this here small NC town on the far edge of modernity doesn’t). Artist by the name of Da Lee found it hidden under layers of paint. Child’s coffin, Andy,” he repeats. “Turns out that couple wasn’t grieving for lost crops in that field but something *bigger*.”
Barry wonders where the laugh track was on this episode then realizes the obvious. He looks down to see a glowing tie: dream again.
Wendy opens the door to the small cottage, startling him awake from his afternoon nap. “What do you think?” she said, twirling around in place to show the purchased dress off.
“I think… we need a TV.”
“And a bed!” Wendy added. She was feeling frisky again, their checkered, unaligned past be damned. Start anew; forget the old. Rebirth.
Sunklands 