Author name: pollyliticat

golf course, fortune, chain, byrd, monkee, dougie, twist, mashed potato, beach boy, sausage, rolling stone, beatle, vogue, macarena, website, wired

 

Sometimes where they were was overwhelming. 

Ko twisted around, blinking in the glare, trying to make sense of the environment. On one side an unnaturally green stretch of land: a golf course? On the other water, and a strip of sand. On the beach, boys wearing gold chains and red swim trunks were lined up doing a strange dance with lots of hand motions and hipsway. They did a quick lookup, it was the “Macarena.” 

Behind them was a row of little vendor stalls. There was a fortune teller, one sold mashed potato-covered sausage on a stick.

The environment stuttered, like a website that couldn’t quite load. The lag was worse again today.

An antique atmospheric craft flew low overhead, its noise a rattling buzz. A banner trailing from its tail spelled out “Richard E. Byrd! North Pole Or Bust!”

A person in opaque wrap-around sunglasses and a glittery silver jacket zoomed up to Ko atop a strange pock-marked uni-wheel, a rolling stone. “Monk-ee, Doug-ie, Beat-le,” they chanted.

“Af?” But it was only an NPC.

“It’s in vogue,” Glitter-jacket said, conspiratorially. “I’m totally wired!”  

Ko couldn’t find Af anywhere in the confusion.

 

stop, slow, bite, barrier, muzzle, beak, dalmatian, detour, poodle, husky, trunk, wave, snout, boxer, yield, asleep

 

Sometimes it didn’t matter where they were.

The lag had been low for weeks– Af realized that Ko must have changed their course to shadow Af’s ship. It had ticked back up, a two second round-trip, about three hundred thousand clicks.

Af could work with that.

Sometimes the sim environment was just a detour between the barrier of the literal space between them, and the connection they both felt, craved: physical, emotional.

Ko’s avatar today was husky. Thikk and soft. Clearly conscious of how very decorative they were, a proud poodle.

Af felt frisky, an alert boxer or a capering Dalmatian, bright-eyed with grinning snout. Often they needed to be controlled, but sometimes they needed to be in control. Af slid their hands over Ko’s trunk. A second to transmit, for Ko to react in real time, another second before they arched up into Af’s touch.

Af’s teeth nibbling Ko’s shoulder, a second for Ko to feel the bite, a second for their thick moan to come back to Af.

Af cupped Ko’s chin, stroked the fleshy nose, gave that little beak a tweak. “I want to put a muzzle on you,” they whispered. “I’ll go slow. If you want me to stop, just wave, or squeeze.”

They didn’t need a safe word or signal, not really; Ko could adjust the parameters as well as Af could. But they liked to keep the illusion.

Two seconds later, Ko nodded. Their smile was a little sly, a little shy, their voice husky. “I yield.”

“If you want – only if you want! – you can pretend to be asleep,” Af suggested. “To start.”

meg, amy, beth, edge, pop, safari, wayne, jazz, rap, jon, jo, kim, chrome, baby, punk, opera

 

A disco dome. Flickering rainbow lights along the struts high above in the dark, vid screens around the periphery with larger than life stars dancing and lip-synching.  Af recognized almost none of them, but helpfully blazing LEDs identified them, Megabeth, Wayne Shorter, Amy K, Jon JoJon, Kim Zee, and hundreds more.

A thousand different beats, edgepop, thummp and fraz, and, because SeecheeTri was eternally fixated on simulating Olden Earth, classical styles like crustpunk, safari-g, jazz, opera, and rap. It was a bit overwhelming, and Af dialed their input back a notch.

Ko, was in a baby-blue chrome-trimmed jumpsuit, their limbs flailing wildly.

They looked ridiculous, but also, Af had to admit, extremely cute.

stone, prince, rye, barley, duke, spelt, earl, oat, ford, bong, king, brown, baron, lee, howard, rice

 

“If we always let SeecheeTri pick some random environment,” Ko said. “It’s not always going to be someplace sexy.”

Af wasn’t even sure what today’s random environment was. Indoors, high-ceilinged, gloomy, with shafts of light through dusty air from windows far above. They were in a sort of corridor formed by stacks of brownish burlap sacks on either side. They were labeled, Af saw: rye, barley, spelt, oat, rice. A granary?

“We can rise to the occasion,” Af said. “Remember the war museum? And we don’t always have to be sexy.” That didn’t come out like they’d meant it to. “Sexy is good,” they added quickly. “But what makes this work is that we connect in other ways too, right?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Ko said.

They came to a door. Outside was blindingly bright, blue arc above, verdant grass below. A flagstone path led toward a tidy ancient brick dwelling. “The other thing about SeecheeTri,” Ko said, is it really seems stuck on Olden Earth for some reason. It’s hardly ever Ganymede, let alone Zephyr Station.”

“Artifact of the training data, I think,” Af said as they strolled down the path. “It’s been making pastoral European scenarios for centuries, but it’s only got decades of data on Zephyr. And why would we sim Zephyr? We could just go there.”

That concept sat there for a split-second, meeting in real-space, terrifying like the void at the galactic core. Af pushed past before Ko could seize on it. “There are a lot of NPCs with very, um, white, names,” they admitted. “Lee Baron, Howard Ford, and so forth.”

They opened the door Inside wasn’t quite as neat as outside. Af’s eyes seized on a strange object on a small wood table across the room, a sort of smudge glass bowl with a tube extending from it.

“And hierarchies,” Ko said. “Kings, princes, dukes, earls, and so on. But I don’t mind. I’m happy to be wherever you are.” Ko noticed the bowl-thing too, and frowned. “That looks a bit anachronistic.”

“Remember the dessert that guy Chad got at the crane restaurant?” Af had done some research, and the results were still in their cache. “I think that’s called a ‘bong’.” They nudged Ko, “Wanna get stoned?”

Af thought Ko’s entire outfit looked ridiculous, but it was the eggshell spats over gleaming black shoes that pushed it over the top. “What are you meant to be?” Somehow it sounded sharper than they meant it to, and Af winced. The last thing they wanted was a tiff.

They were in a – butcher shop? A glassed refrigerated case was full of meats: beef, poultry, pork, venison – and somewhat more oddly, neat rows of jars of blood.

Ko smiled, a smug cat done licking the cream. He pivoted slowly. “Can’t you guess? You did say you wanted something ‘not vanilla’ today.”

Af took in the details of the outfit. A crossbow, with a sharpened stake instead of a quarrel. A sort of bandolier with cloves of garlic. A hat with a mirrored brim, an ivory crucifix dangling from a belt loop.

Ko could guess, it turned out. “A vampire hunter. But what does that make me?”

“Darling.” Ko grinned even more broadly. “That makes you the vampire.”

 

phrases: quarrel, ivory, venison, row, mirror, beef, pork, vanilla, eggshell, cream, poultry, spat, garlic, stake, tiff, crucifix

Af was fascinated by the random choices the Sim came up with, but, bluntly, they weren’t all hits. Today they and Ko found themselves in a dour grey space that housed relics of bygone violence. “These people had a very strict pecking order,” they observed.

Ko cocked their head, grinning. ‘I’ll peck you in a strict order.”

Af flushed. “I don’t think it was as fun as it sounds. They weren’t given much latitude.”

“They were sure given medals.” They had entered a room was full of life-size figures in ancient regalia. “And the occasional ribbon.”

Af couldn’t bear to think about what these people had done to earn their trophies. She read the name printed on one of the glass cases. “Commander  Quinn.” The bill of his cap nearly hid his brown eyes.

Another room was full of equipment, all olive drab metal. Atop a squat tripod, a menacing tube pointed toward the ceiling. “I think it’s a … howser?” Ko stumbled over the unfamiliar word.

“I think you say ‘howitzer.'” Af sighed. They glanced out the window, and cupped Ko’s cheek. “The heck with all this,” they said. “Let’s just go make out in the quad.”

 

phrases: pec, lat, quad, brown, cup, commander, grey, bear, quinn, medal, bill, try, house, howser, trophy, ribbon

Next time, Ko took Af sailing. They preened a little beforehand, in the anteroom, modeling mauve bermuda shorts. “Which do you think?” They held up a polka dotted ascot and a bolo tie with a shiny black opal.

Af fidgeted self-consciously with their own white-trimmed navy scarf. “Neither?”

Ko frowned, mock-stern, then laughed. “All right, love.” They tossed the offending accessories into the air, and they dissolved into sparkling mist. Ko made an ironic half-bow. “After you!”

They stepped through the doorway and found themselves in a port town, on a pier set at an acute angle from the sandy shore, a handful of sloops bobbing on either side. The tide was high, the water nearly slopping onto the boards. The setting was low-tech: wood, brass, glass, cloth, no fiberglass or electricity in sight.

“A charming era,” Ko remarked, leaping into the starboard side of the nearest vessel.

Af could certainly gainsay that – but instead they smiled, and let themself be handed into the boat.

 

phrases: bolo, love, tide, port, acute, era, bermuda, ascot, stern, scarf, tie, starboard, bow, all, right, gain

Af invited Ko to a cafe called The Forest Fox. The letters on the sign glittered like emerald. Inside the design was spare and clean. A long counter was a rich walnut brown, behind it a bizarre array of devices gleamed.

The coffee bean had been extinct for centuries, but every detail was lovingly recreated in the virtual environment. First they looked at a bewildering variety of exotic treats in a glass case: pecan sandies, peanut butter cookies, olive oil cakes, vegan croissants with cashew cheese.

An NPC whose name tag read “Kelly” waited to take their order.

Ko’s tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar words on the menu hanging above. “Americano, cappuccino, espresso, almond milk latte…”

Af made an executive decision. “We’ll have one of everything, please.”

 

phrases: peanut, almond, forest, pecan, bean, latte, espresso, clean, americano, kelly, cashew, cappuccino, walnut, fox, olive, emerald

The sky was violet shot through with turquoise; the trees had pink leaves; the ground was brown beneath short pink grass. Birdlike avians emitted weird calls, something between “caw” and “chirp.”

Af pressed up against a trunk, their heart thundering. They had been jonesing for some rough play. Ko had agreed, and now they were hiding from them.

Ko made a clucking sound, as if to lure them out. Their voice sounded very close. “Tweet tweet, little sparrow. Captain Ko is going to hook you, and reel you in.”

A blur of motion, and then suddenly Ko tackled Af, bearing them down. Af squirmed under them, against their rod. “Oh no,” Af sighed in mock dismay. “I’m caught, I’m caught! Whatever shall I do?”

phrases: jones, tweet, turquoise, violet, cluck, sparrow, hook, caw, reel, silver, tackle, lure, pink, chirp, rod, brown

Af was an expert spaceship pilot, light planes in atmosphere, not so much. Ko yelped as the aircraft nearly brushed the tree canopy, but Af got it down on the tarmac without crashing.

“Hope you brought your passport,” they quipped as the plane trundled along the short runway.

“Hope you didn’t blow out all the windows with a sonic boom,” Ko grumped.

 

The arrival area of the airport was lined with statues of old men. “Murphy Warner,” Af read, “Mario Wright. I’ve never heard of any of this people. I wonder how they’re linked?”

Ko peered at the closest figure. “Jonas Marx. Didn’t he author some famous civic accord?”

Af laughed. “That sounds like a load of bunk.”

phrases: passport, sonic, mario, accord, jonas, canopy, warner, murphy, civic, crash, pilot, wright, link, marx, trundle, bunk