Zana stepped back into her apartment the next morning, thoroughly relaxed by the night’s activities … all of the night’s activities. It had been a stressful term so far, even for a cyborg; of course, graduate studies were always stressful, but psychology was tougher than most. And add into that my personal psychotherapy starts in two weeks, she thought as she moved into her bedroom to change out of her finery, into a casual unitard. God knows what little gremlins will turn up then! She had always considered herself well adjusted and mentally healthy. Who but God could guess what a qualified psychotherapist would find …? Then her lips quirked back in a mercurial change of mood. Although her career would be made, perhaps, as the author of the first case study on a ‘borg in the literature!
The small jest improved Zana’s mood; but she still felt the need for some encouragement, or at least a shoulder to cry on for a few picoseconds. Glancing again at the holographs on the mantel, she regretted not returning home to her parents’ house. Still, there were other ways of getting together with family … not as satisfyingly tactile, but they would do in a pinch …. She said to the room, “Computer, please call Ariel Sherman, home code, full holo.” She sat on her couch as the computer beeped.
Shortly, a full-body image of her mother, wearing a green casual outfit and a purple silk duster, appeared in the holoprojection field created by the comm program. “Hi, sweet one! What makes you call on this fine Saturday morning?”
“Radio’s off; good … not that it was of much use anyway. And the water and air pumps are shut off, too ….”
“I suppose I should shut the doors. At least Ma would have said to do that; but nobody else is coming down here any more, so I’ll leave ’em for the critters to borrow.”
Summer afternoon — summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.
Henry James
For Michiganders (yes, to us, that’s a word), Labor Day is the last day of summer. Most schools don’t begin before the Tuesday after Labor day (although there’s an annoying trend of school districts applying for waivers from the state law), and so we milk holiday time down to the last moment. (Then we surge back to our homes inside of one or two days, and drive each other crazy on the road.)
That’s real life. In Second Life, we can be on vacation up north … or down south … soaking up the sun until the cows come home, or the servers reset and lose the sim. I’m partying here, and doing it in a feathered dress by Brittany Golden, available right now at the Level event (see down in the list), along with a pair of shoes that were right beside it.
I like the look of this for the most part; like many feathered dresses, it’s flirty and fun. You’ll have several colors to choose from, from this sky blue to a black.
I love these sandals by Marchese. The colors of both the leather and the jewels are HUD controlled, so there’s plenty of options for you. But I really have a soft spot for the mid-height heels; I just love that shape!
It is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance that is in this Earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.
J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion
=====
A bad link led me to this piece of parkland where a club should have been. The club is no more, but the island remains, lovingly landscaped now by someone, set with statues and a wandering path. I stayed long enough to shoot a few photos, but I won’t share the landmark, as I think it’s private property, and I don’t want my mistake to be bringing lots of people descending on the homeowner’s little paradise.
I had a party in mind, some rock ‘n roll for the night, and so I climbed into a brand new pantsuit by Rapture. (Members of the store group are getting a discount for a while, so check it out soon!) It’s available in quite a few colors, but a party deserves some shine, and Rapture’s materials treatment certainly supplies that here. This jump suit shines as much as afternoon sun off the water of a lake or river ….
Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can’t go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.
This is what the new house looks like from the land side. I had to temporarily derezz some of the trees in front to show it.
The weird thing about houses is that they almost always look like nothing is happening inside of them, even though they contain most of our lives. I wondered if that was sort of the point of architecture.
The man by the hearth sprang erect and hurried toward the latest arrivals. “Good eventide, good sirs. Be very welcome,” he greeted ….
… “You’re the … proprietor … of this Old Phoenix?” …
The man nodded. “What may your wishes be?” He raised a palm, smiling. “Nay, let me guess. Ye’ve fared through rain, in striving and distress. A bath, dry garb, hot food, a cup of cheer, a bed, then breakfast, ere you go from here.” …
Poul Anderson, A Midsummer Tempest, ch. 6
We’re back after a nice break; and, as you can see, I’m having fun already.
Despite the way my photostream on Flickr looks, I don’t hang out a lot at in-world clubs, lol. It’s just that clubs make great places to pose, with their theme and decor; and they often have good poses built into the chairs and other furniture. That cuts down on my needing to pull out my modeling AO.
Sitting in the bar of the restaurant, waiting for her friend to show up for their dinner date, Zana Sherman sipped at a Saurian brandy, and smiled to herself a little. She had been reading a book published some 2,000-plus years ago, assigned by her current literature professor, and one section applied quite nicely to sitting in a bar —
The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy also mentions alcohol. It says that the best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, the effect of which is like having your brains smashed out with a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick.
She smiled more, and wondered if a “Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster” would have more effect on a cyborg’s brain than normal alcoholic beverages.
In the end, though, she was content with her brandy, and the companionship of a good friend … a hard thing for her to find, as the fame of her mother, Ariel Sherman, tended to encourage the approach of chancers. True friends were valued by all the cyborgs, but especially by the Sandhara-Sherman clan, with its standing in terms of wealth, fame and Republic society.
Jem and Diana arrived on board the starbase at my invitation for a girls’ night yesterday, full of questions over my call to them. In reply, I showed them up to the station’s upper level in the “quarters” sector, and through a roundel door into the answer. “Behold, mesdames.”
Both my friends glanced around, until they lit on the screen and control panel. “A holodeck?” Jem asked.
It’s been a busy time for all four of us, between our various RL jobs, activities and families; but especially for me. You see, I just semi-retired … I’ve taken up new, easier occupations, but retired completely from my retail job. Another Christmas shopping season like the last would have been soul-crunching, if not crushing. And I’m not really up to the physical demands of retail in many ways, what with my RL age. (We won’t go into details!)
But also, the last child will be leaving the nest to enter college in the fall — he graduates from high school next week — and that would mean, if I were scheduled for a night shift, that the husband would come home to a dark house after a long shift at the office. After over 12 years of going through this, that’s not any good. Last year, I asked if there were a chance of getting placed permanently on morning (opening) shift at all, and informed that wasn’t possible. That, plus various changes at several levels in the company, made me feel it was time to “turn in my papers.”
And so, with that, it’s time to celebrate! A change of clothes, a change of skin … hell, even a change of hair … and then sweet-talking the other ladies to do it with me.
From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
Second Life® with Harper, Conan, Jem, Diana and Morgan
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