When I first visited Steelhead in 2007 it was a brand new single sim and looked impressive. I don’t recall exploring it, although I *think* I was planning to write a guide to it after the New Babbage one I was doing at the time. I never finished the NB guide (missing off the then shiny new region of Babbage Canals) and so never went back to Steelhead.

Until this year.

Now I count Steelhead as my home. It has a curious way of getting under your skin and making you want to see more, explore more, find more. It had grown from that single sim to four when I came in July to six now. Shanghai was added in September and now St Helens is open to visitors and looking for new citizens to populate its mix of wilderness and industrial frontierland. I’ve already purchased and rented a lovely plot at the base of St Helens and feel totally confident that as it hasn’t rumbled since the 1850s both I and my lumber yard are perfectly safe…

So if all my posts blithering on about how great Steelhead is have made you curious, come over and have a looksee, TotalLunar Eclipse & Tensai Hilra have done a bang-up job of making the whole place look amazing I think you’ll agree And if you are interested in living in Steelhead or renting a shop, just drop Lunar or Tensai a line for all the details. Come on in, the livin’s fine and the roleplay’s both light and optional…

For all my Steelhead related posts click here.

*****{*}*****

A quick post on Osprey’s blog reminded me that I haven’t been to see the Nova Albion museum progress since Sal invited me over one night back in July – I took some pictures (below) of the build which I believe will be a great addition to one of the oldest City’s on the grid – if not older than the grid!

Sal shows me around – not the hippos which are very important to the oldbies in SL and sacred to SL itself (hit shift+ctrl+alt+H to see!)

“Danger?” I asked the disembodied voice? “What danger? From you?”

{No. Not from Shade. Danger is to your other Unit, Chosen Unit Antarm}

I was confused, “Why do you call me chosen unit? What is my other unit?”

{Chosen Unit is you, you were chosen. Your other Unit is in grave danger, Chosen Unit Antfarm}

My thoughts were slowing, my head filling with water “I’m tired, you know” I said, “funny to be tired in a dream.”

{You are not dreaming Chosen Unit Antfarm. You are in grave danger. You must not sleep Chosen Unit Antfarm}

The voice no long pulsed through me, instead it wrapped around me like a warm blanket. The world faded out and the floor caught me.

**{}**

I dreamt.

I dreamt of the meadow.

I dreamt it was on fire. My nose filled with the stench of burning flesh.

I dreamt my skin was burning away, melting off my body like wax. The muscles and bone beneath gleaming in the hungry flames.

I dreamt I screamed and screamed and screamed.

**{}**

I opened my eyes and saw the face that was both mine and not mine looking back at me. Curious how it was curved, big and round. With a slight smile I realised I was looking into a large glass bubble the colour of steel. I moved my head back and could see I was looking into the lens eye of a beetle-like collection of metal and wires hovering above me. I was led on the ground looking up at what I guessed must be a robot.

{Chosen Unit Antfarm} it spoke to me, its mechanical voice urgent {I have stabilised the connection but you are in grav…}

“Grave danger, yes I heard. I remember.” I yawned a soul-deep yawn, “What is this danger? Who are you?” I struggled groggily to my feet.

{I am Shade. I am the city, the oceans, the forests, the sky. I am all you see here. The danger is to your other Unit in not-Shade. A non-you Unit wants to shut it down}

“But this is just a dream, Shade, just a dream.” I smiled.

The robot whirled and hummed, {Negative. Units have split. Chosen Unit Antfarm in Shade and not-Shade. Unit in not-Shade currently malfunctioning. Repair process started. Non-you Unit has begun shutdown attempt. Relay available. Download initiated}

“Huh? Downlo…ARRRRRRG!” I began to ask before a thin beam of light shot from under the robot’s lens directly into my eyes. My mind was filled with the image of a small hospital room, it was night and bent over the only bed in the room as a figure hidden by a dark hood and cape. Whoever it was had a small bottle in one hand a pipette in the other dripping something into the mouth of the patient beneath them. The patient was in a bad way with what looked like burns to his whole body. I knew without knowing that it was me and that the mysterious figure was not a doctor on night rounds. The image blurred, faded and was gone. The download was over.

“What the hell was that?” I demanded.

{Relay from not-Shade} Shade informed me as if the fact were simple enough to be understood by a child. I struggled to my feet, the hovering machine humming gently as it kept up with me.

“And not-shade is?”

{Not Shade}

“Of course. And I am there as well as here?”

{Correct}

“How? How is it possible?”

{Dimensional split evident. Reason for split unknown}

“So you are saying this not a dream?”

{Correct. Shade is real. Not-Shade is real. Split between two is real}

I had the strangest feeling that this all should surprise me, terrify me even, but it didn’t. Although not sure why, I took this information calmly, “Can we start at the beginning?”

The machine whirled slightly {Time is limited Chosen Unit Antfarm, yours and mine}

“OK, we’ll have to be quick then. Stop me if I’m wrong. I’m not dreaming, I’m really here but I’m also led in a hospital bed badly burnt and with someone there trying to kill me, correct?”

{Correct}

“Right, and here is a city called Shade and you are the city, or its monitor, correct?”

{Correct}

“Do you know how I got here?”

{No}

“But you said something about a dimensional split?”

{Correct}

I stared at the robot before realising that was the entirety of its answer. “Well, care to explain what that is?”

{A energy force large enough to achieve escape velocity would be required to break through the walls of the multiverse. Speculation is not within my nature, but evidence would lead to speculation that you encountered such a force and were transported to Shade dimension from your own and the process split your units in two}

“But how can I be here and there?”

{Unknown}

“Speculate?”

Again a long pause from the robot.

“Shade?”

It hummed briefly and gave a click {Your unit here is not your unit. Speculation is your other-unit consciousness is here in this not-you unit}

I looked down at my body, at hands I didn’t recognise and at a reflection of a face I knew was not my own, “Makes sense,” I said to no one in particular. “But then,” I addressed Shade again “where is the person who owns this body.”

{All units have been erased} It’s cool, mechanical voice could have been reading the shares index or shipping forecast.

“I’m sorry? What did you say” I struggled to make sense of what I had just heard.

{All units have been erased}

“All units?”

{All units have been erased}

The city was empty. I hadn’t seen or heard a single soul. Coffee steaming in cups. Half-eaten food. Not one single person. No bird calls. No dogs. Nothing. No one.

{All units have been erased} Shade repeated as I slumped against a wall on legs suddenly made from string…

{All units have been erased}

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Far From Home” posts can be read here.

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Links to other blogs and stories:
1) Amarantis Belfire watches over the burnt man here.

I don’t get ranty and sweary on this blog often. I do elsewhere, but not here largely because a) SL is fun for me therefore not rant-worthy 99% of the time, and b) I try to keep my potty-mouth to a minimum on this blog as people read it at work, etc. But every once in a while I like to let rip and the BBC’s crappy coverage of SL recently coincided with a period at work when some cock of stratospheric levels needed a kick in the teeth I could not provide. This irked me. I took that irkedness and poured it all over the BBC spooge-fest like bad gravy. I then moved on, my bile duct once more drained of essential juices, and forgot all about it.

Until now. A pingback from a blog about shrinks in SL sneering down on all that have the brass neck to get angry at something they hadn’t sanctioned as rage-worthy. Having failed to ensure I had my Anger (Acceptable Targets Of & Reasons For) 399c Form stamped by the relevant authorities I fear I may have compounded my heinous error by enjoying having a good old screaming session, bellowing like a wounded elk mooing into the abyss of a godless death. I imagine.

I agonised (well I considered it for a minute whilst looking for a biscuit) over whether to allow the pingback comment or just bin it, but as I’m in the mood for another rant (and, more importantly bloody short of anything write about at the moment – my scheduled posts section is emptier than a eunuch’s boxers) I thought I’d drop the offended article a comment and then copy it here to make up a post and buy me some time until I can write some real stuff up. Phew! That BBC story is paying dividends, I can tell you! I hope someone else slags off SL soon or I’m fucked.

Anyhow, here’s wot I, a mere non-shrink dumbo, said to the reet clever chappie apparently in charge of my thinking (give him his due though – it was a mental post. I must do more like that, twas most amusing to write):

HBA said
Your comment is awaiting moderation.
November 30, 2009 at 2:49 pm
Huh? A pingback? Go on then, I’ll take a looksee…

To answer your question why I went all foamy mouth Britney guy, well quite simply for the fun of it. I took a load of crappy crappola from work and transferred it to that instead. Oh, and I like swearing. Really like it. My post has no more depth than a puddle of water and the same amount of validity as your own.

So cheer up! Look on the bright side! Good old Aunty gave us both something to blog about and fill the emptiness of our lives with one more post. Although mine was, I’m sure you’ll agree, far more sweary. And funnier.

Oh, and I’ll bite at the end – who are you to say what I should get angry about. I’m guessing there’s a ton of stuff that wouldn’t make me blink but would push your buttons just how you like it. You seem a smart fella doing a clever-sounding post about whatever it is it’s about – don’t end on a dumb note like that. Or at least put some swearing in to drive home the point you’re sneering at me – come on, add some conviction to your sneers man!

Big time kudos to Holo, Mari and the others from Bay City for organising the first ever Tri-Cities parade (and to Osprey for her usual bang-up job on publicity) because the Halloween march through the cities and leap off Shermville bridge was a hoot! Everything happened on time and the party under the water afterwards was a blast!

Here I am (a zombie version of me) on my steampunk horse

The Nova Albion Parade off to meet the others on the bridge!

BAT!

The bat killed Lucy!

LisaHot plays a mean drum and fires a meaner cannon!

On the bridge a the sun came up…

Osprey looking teh sexeh!

Lucy needs a shave!

Kumi gets it oooonnnnnnn!

Holo leads the Bay City parade up the bridge…

Getting ready to jump…

Heere we all goooooooooooo!

Party with da fishes!

“But not stabbed again?” Fuzz paced the room as I sat in front of his desk watching him. He reminded me of a little wooden figure going in and out of a clock, a really angry little wooden figure with claws and fangs.

“Nope. The hanging killed him for sure and he was beaten up pretty badly before that, but no stab wounds,” I replied. “Sit down Fuzz, you’re making me nervous.”

He waved my request aside and continued his pacing, “And apart from the leaflet about Dr Alter’s businesses, there was nothing to link the two deaths?” The swinging stiff had nothing on him apart from a dog-eared three-fold leaflet extolling the virtues of Dr A’s wares, all of them with innocent sounding descriptions dreamt up by some marketing type to distract from the fact that the “super powerful lighthouse beam alternative to normal bulbs” was actually a death ray capable of sinking several of O’Toole’s Ironclads in one go. The little cartoon logo of Dr Alter herself was mighty cute though…

“Er, I guess not…” I was halfway through a reply before I realised it wasn’t a question.

“But then two deaths in two days is a mighty big coincidence.”

“Well the first guy had only been dead for twelve hours or so, this new one had been hanging at least a week. Different MO, different location, different times.”

“Which could be worse!” Fuzz said running his fingers through his hair. Or fur. I was never quite sure.

“How so?” I asked.

“Two killers instead of one. And if John Doe was killed whilst investigating smugglers then I doubt the general populace is in danger, whereas if we have a different killer on the loose then who knows? It ain’t good doc, that’s for sure.”

I pushed my chair away and got to my feet, “Well if I can do anything Fuzz, you know where I am, but I have to get back to the slums.”

“Hmmm,” he was distracted, “Oh yes, your patients. You get back to them, doc, they’ll be missing you.”

“It’s more than that Fuzz,” I replied.

He looked at me, concern evident on his face, “All ok over there? I know it’s a bit wild…”

“Ha! It’s more than wild Fuzz, as you and the Council know. But it ain’t the tong this time, some Chinese kids came to my place after your nun left this morning, seems there’s a fever spreading.”

“A fever? Is it dangerous? Should I let the Council know?” Fuzz knew as well as I that the slums were a breeding ground for all manner of nasties and it bordered on some of the finest real estate in the city.

“Worried about property prices, Fuzz? We can’t have the great and the good cancelling their balls due to projectile vomiting now, can we?” I shouldn’t have said it but I said it all the same. Sometimes my mouth opens wide enough to take both of my feet in at once and right now I was knee deep in gums.

“Hey! That’s not fair doc and you know it!” Fuzz looked hurt and I felt lower than a worm’s beard.

“Yeah, sorry Fuzz, but well you know what I think about the slums and the council…” I trailed off.

“I know doc, I know. Look, get back there and find out what’s going on. Let me know and if it needs to go to the council I’ll do my best for you, fair enough?” he said with a small smile.

I smiled back “Fair enough,” and began to head for the door leaving the city’s sheriff to solve two grizzly murders in my wake.

“Doc,” Fuzz’s voice stopped me as I grasped the handle, “stay out of the dens, eh?” My shoulders went rigid and I stood stock still for long seconds before I slowly opened the door and left without saying one more goddam lousy word.

****{}****

To be continued after a short break…
All the “Goodunnit? Murder in Steelhead!” posts can be read here.

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Links to other blogs and stories:
1) The murders are discussed at the weekly town hall meeting here.
2) Dr Alter discovers she’s not only in the frame again, but seems to have a publicity department she was previously unaware of here.

This is where I stand.

Until Linden Lab reverse or modify their position on freebies, low-cost items and “stale” stock I will not buy one more goddam thing from Xstreet. I shall use it to find things I want and then contact the makers in-world and buy direct. As I can’t build or script I have spent a considerable amount in Xstreet over my three years in world but that stops now.

Greed is greed and I do not like it.

“Ahh Doctor, come in come in.” The small Chinese guy at the door was paid not to know me and I shot him a glance to remind him of that fact, “So sorry, Mister Smith.” His wide, thin smile was as genuine as could be expected for a low paid goon in the drugs trade who thought he was worth more than being nice to the smoke-fiends. I’d let the Dragon Lady know, let’s see how he smiled after she’d booted him down to gutting fish in the cannery for a month. His smile twitched cruelly as he opened the door for me and I crossed the threshold between worlds.

I followed the curved path down to where a darkly translucent curtain divided me from my goal ahead. I could feel the tendrils of desire creeping around it, wafting towards me, and all the nuns in Steelhead couldn’t stop me now. I breathed the thick air in deep and pushed through the curtain to a room of cots and smoke and beautiful women.

They pamper you there. They guide you, help you, lose you and leave you.

I was in the smoke. With the Dragon lady. In the curls of her hair. Wrapped in the folds of her dress. I was far gone. I was with them again. Back with my family. Back with my wife.

**{}**

Through the darkness of impossible dreams hands found me. Strong hands. Cold hands, cold like metal. I was lifted up, borne aloft to fly safe from harm. Somewhere, in the night, someone was sawing a double bass in half. What a strange thing to do.

**{}**

The knock on the door was almost as unwelcome as the bright morning light assaulting my eyes. I stood, naked to the waist and with the face of a dead dog, and wobbled my way to the door. “Sister Sweetcheeks,” I growled at the shocked nun. Someone had replaced my throat with a bag of gravel and every word hurt like a punch in the tonsils, “to what do I owe this very great pleasure?”

The young nun tried to stop her eyes skiing down my chest and failed, she gulped hard and spun around to look out across the harbour, her face even prettier with some colour in it, “Another murder, doctor!”

Another? Once more she provided the slap I needed to wake up. When I had time, I’d like to think about that some more, but right now I had questions looking for answers, “Who? Where? Was it Dr Alter’s squid again?”

“No,” she replied not turning around but sneaking a sideways glance at me, “In the old tunnels, some poor wretch has been found hung! Sheriff Ortega has arranged for the body to be taken to your temporary morgue in the naval offices. He asks if you can get a report to him right away.”

“Does he now? Well tell him I’ll get on it right away, but I’ll be calling in these favours from the city soon enough.”

“Favours?” Sister Sweetcheeks looked round at me, her eyes alive with curiosity. God but they were beautiful eyes.

“You tell him Sis, the city owes Beck some overtime,” I smiled into her eyes, “and I intend to collect that cheque.”

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Goodunnit? Murder in Steelhead!” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other blogs and stories:
1) The murders are discussed at the weekly town hall meeting here.
2) Dr Alter discovers she’s not only in the frame again, but seems to have a publicity department she was previously unaware of here.

I popped in-world to pick up a simple delivery and was immediately IMed by ever wonderful Marianne McCann who had the amazing news that her Magallen Detector Ring was going crazy… the great man was in-world!

[13:49:58] Marianne McCann: [13:49] Magellan Linden’s Status Item: Magellan is on the grid!

The Mag is back! I tweeted the news right away and asked the big guy for a signed photo for the Rodeo Explorer’s Base

I tossed the report on the sheriff’s desk, “There’s your post mortem.”

The sheriff looked down at my scrawl and then back up at me, “And?”

“What? You can’t read now?” I snapped.

“Don’t get cute with me, doc.” His tone was calm but I heard the snarl behind the words.

“Okay, sorry Fuzz but it’s been a rough day and frankly I’d like to tie it in a sack and kick it into the ocean!” A nun shuffling past with coffee for us looked at me and raised an eyebrow, a perfectly curved eyebow above a eye of emerald green. I smiled a smile and hoped to hell no one could read my mind right. As she left, she bent over to pop a chunk of cheese in the cells for Willard and my gaze fell on her curves like honey over a spoon, “Still, it’s had its moments, I’ll admit,” I added, suddenly a little distracted.

“Thank you Sister Mattic,” Fuzz said with a rye smile, “I’m sure Willard can do without his treat for now.” She nodded and bustled off. “Doc, doc, doc, what is it with you and nuns?”

“A habit, Fuzz, a bad habit.”

He smiled a frown, which is a nice trick, “The report? What does it say? How did this guy die?”

“Bottom line he was stabbed, several times, looks like a sword.” I replied.

“A sword? What type of sword? Rapier? Broad?”

“From the wounds I’d say a cutlass. Large flat blade. He was stabbed three times in the abdomen and two in the chest and had defensive wounds to his arms, hands and thighs. I say he fought back but was probably unarmed at the time.”

“Nasty,” Fuzz muttered with a shake of his head.

“Well it was no prom dance, that’s for sure,” I replied.

“What about the green goo around him?” Fuzz asked.

“Hard to say, but my best guess is some form of mucus membrane produced by the squiddy thing to protect itself. Dr A thinks that her wee pet was deliberately mutated to a point where a human could be fed to it, although how she didn’t know.”

“So whoever mutated the goo-beast did so with the intention of getting rid of a body. Only the goo didn’t like what was on the menu, wrapped it up and waited for Mother Nature to work her magic,” Fuzz filled in.

“Sounds about right to me. So you know how he died, but not who he is, why he ended up like a pin cushion and who had a beef with him.”

“Actually I do know who he is,” Fuzz said in a matter of fact way.

I sat up, “You do? Who? How?” I asked like a turkey just being told about Christmas.

“Pinkertons. Came in, saw the body, IDed him as John Doe.” Fuzz stated with an odd expression.

“John Doe? You have to be joking? Who the hell is called John Doe?” something about this case smelt worse than the Skylar child and I didn’t like it.

“Apparently he was. It’s a good ID, solid.” Fuzz said.

“But what the hell are the Pinkertons doing here? And how do they know him?” I asked.

“Turns out he was here investigating smuggling in those precious slums of yours. I’m guessing he found his way to something, or someone, he shouldn’t and was perforated for his troubles.”

The slums? My slums? “You’re thinking the Bing Kong aren’t you? So what next?” the Bing Kong were not just a thorn in my side, but as whole rose bush in my tush.

“Next? Next you go home doc. It’s police business now. Thanks for your help an’ all, but we can take it from here.”

Damn him, I knew he was right, but damn him.

“Look, I’ll let you know what happens, but you’ve done your part. You have patients that need you, and I’ve taken you away from them for a whole day. Get some sleep and get back to them doc.” Fuzz smiled warmly but he looked weary.

“Don’t worry about me, Sheriff,” I stood and picked up my bag, “you look tired enough for the both of us.” I said my goodbyes and cycled off. Sure I was tired, tired like Santi Claus on Boxing Day, but I was damned if I was going home. I cycled off along a shortcut through the hills behind Shanghai and headed for the hotel that rose high above the harbour, although what I was looking for lay deep below it…

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Goodunnit? Murder in Steelhead!” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other blogs and stories:
1) Sheriif Ortega’s intial desk report is here and here
2) The murder is discussed for the second time at the weekly town hall meeting here.
3) Read more about the urchin Skylar in his tale about being lost in Steelhead’s wilderness here.