This is a multi-page story; just click on the “Pages” links at the foot of each page to move back and forth.
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The woman gazed at the ident-block on the door’s security panel with a nervous expression. She had passed any number of such panels on the way up to this office, but none of them had read:
Sherman, Ariel Chairwoman / CEO Fantasial Productions ILC
It felt strange to Taraia to be interviewed by the CEO of a corporation for a job … especially when the job was really an entrance-level position. Her college advisor had told her that Lady Ariel was peculiar in this way; she wanted to get a feel for new-hires outside of the production aspects of her theatre’s show and night club. Was it because, again according to her advisor, promotions came from within the corporation, and so she might have closer daily exposure with the Boss than at two or three removes …?
I’ve been wound up with outside affairs this past few weeks, and I just managed to squeeze in a run through this year’s Fantasy Faire. There were several extremely creative regions this time through, and I snapped my favorite views in photos, so to preserve their memory and share it with others.
There will be two sections here; the first is a gallery of landscapes, while the second shows what I wore, built mostly from offerings at the various vendors. You can click on the gallery for larger views, and there’s a link at the bottom for full size. (Some of these are 1920 wallpapers.)
When I was writing this up, I found not just one quote to use, but two. I’ll title this with Joe Jackson’s song and include the video at the bottom. But following is another sonnet from Harper’s beloved Poetry Magazine archive (which really is a nifty source of material!)
How can I offer you the dull, frayed song Of love I know? Each word would stumble on A memory; and I should see a long Blurred line of faces grimacing upon A musty curtain of the past …. Ah, no …. Let me be silent …. Words would only sound A monotone: a toxic, cloying flow Of echoes would sift through, and eddy round My voice, and all the rapture that I feel Would turn into a harlequin and steal Away beneath the vivid, measured hum Of mockery. Ah, dearest, may there come An ecstasy of stillness in each day, That you may sense the thoughts I dare not say!
I love this song, and this video illustrates what we do in Second Life (as I did in my photos above) quite nicely, transforming ourselves for a time into whatever life we want to live, to change away from the humdrum and pains of daily Real Life.
As promised, here is the short story I’ve been working on with Jem’s and Conan’s help. It’s long by blog standards (nearly 3,000 words), and thoroughly illustrated, so I’ll be breaking it up into pages. (Which also gives me a chance to experiment with some WordPress tweaks.) Just look for “Pages” beneath the Related Posts section at the bottom of each page, and click on the next page to continue.
If you have questions, such as Ariel and Adam’s backstory, contact me in world, or write harper.ganesvoort at gmail dot com, and I’ll do my best to answer them.
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Visits to Terra were an extremely rare thing for Ariel Sherman, despite her dual positions as a successful performer across multiple modes, and head of the interstellar corporation known as the Cyborg Condominium. Most questions of business could be taken care of in a holographic quadcomm conference call, after all. Considering how far the distance was between the ancient mother planet and the Videra Sector, which contained the star Eta Pegasi and its inhabited planet of Videra, that was just as well. The Limlight Republic was spread across well over two thousand systems, and the trip between the two sectors, even in hyperspace, took nearly a month one way.
But some companies insisted on face-to-face meetings, and real sign-manuals on plaspaper contracts instead of electronic signatures, and so Ariel found herself far removed from the comforts of her home on the pleasure planet Videra, and from her revue show at The Land of Fantasy Theatre. Not that her surroundings were uncomfortable at the moment. The hotel suite she and Adam Sandhara, her husband, occupied for their stay in Old Manhattan was sinfully luxurious; and it should be … after all, it was owned by the Condominium. Even if most of the trip could be written off the taxes as a business expense, the bean-counters preferred keeping those expenses to a minimum.
The cost of the meal could still be written off, though, because Ariel had chosen to make a virtue out of a necessity, and ply her preferred trade in a new sector of the Republic. Before leaving Videra, she had informed the hotel manager that she would be bringing her nightclub act to one of the clubs inside their hotel for a surprise appearance.
Curtain time was approaching, and the ’borgs were finishing their meal with a few glasses of champagne, and a cigarette on Ariel’s part. Glancing across the floor where his wife would soon be performing, Adam grinned and said, “There are times, Ari, when I don’t know why I indulge you as I do. Coming over 200 light-years from Eta Pegasi to perform at a nightclub is a bit of a jaunt, even in this day and age.”
“Oh, I think I can come up with a few reasons why you indulge me, darling,” Ariel laughed as she blew smoke toward the ceiling ventilation ducts. Soft lights shimmered off the silk of the lehenga sari from New Karnataka that she wore. “Reasons which I heartily return, by the way. That’s the reason we stay married, even after twenty-something years. Anyway, you should blame this on the company that insists on face-to-face negotiations in a board room and an actual signature on a physical contract, signed in person before a roomful of lawyers and notaries public. We could have solved everything from Videra with a few teleconferences and a blockchain signature. This company doesn’t do that kind of thing, though.”
She tapped off her ash in the ashtray, and added, “And don’t tell me you’re not taking advantage of your little ‘vacation’ here to meet up with old clients for Micronan, and maybe hunt up a few new ones. That’s the only real reason you needed to come along, other than spending time with me when my meetings break.”
“I admit you have me there, lady,” Adam smiled, the lights of the club glinting off his metallic “skin,” as golden as his wife’s. “I still say you’re giving in a little to ego here, looking for some applause even when you’re technically away from the stage.”
“I may grant you that one, lord. But I see it more like I’m drumming up fresh trade myself for the revue. Even without us on board as the constant star artists anymore, the revue is still hugely popular; but keeping the name out there in fresh areas helps keep the business up.”
“Mmhmm … that’s what they all say, I’m sure,” Adam said with another grin … and then he laughed as he caught the napkin Ariel threw at him. He tossed it back as Ariel took a final sip of wine; she patted her lips dry, then kissed her husband, and trotted back to the dressing room set aside for her, to do a last repair on her makeup before coming on.
Unsurprisingly, the hour-long concert set proved a hit; even two hundred-some light-years from Videra, the star quality of Ariel Sherman enthralled spectators. She accepted the enthusiastic applause of the audience, none of whom had known that she would be singing for them; as she bowed, though, she glanced around the room, and noticed that Adam had vanished. It wasn’t unusual for him to meet her in the dressing room, however, and so Ariel worked her way “backstage.”
When she made it inside the dressing room, there was no sign of Adam. She noted, however, a “message waiting” advice on the wall commpanel, and tapped it on. Adam’s face appeared, and said, “Darling, I’m sorry, but one of those old clients of mine called with an incredibly urgent consultation request. I can’t put him off, so I’ve gone down to the comm lounge to handle it. I’ll meet you in the bar after we’re both done. Sorry.”
Ah, the joys of running insanely successful corporations …. Ariel grinned as she shook her head, cleared the message, and returned up the halls to the bar area, passing by the transsteel door to the businesspersons’ communications lounge. A glance inside showed Adam still there, pacing back and forth as he spoke to an image on his digicomm. Seeing he was occupied, Ariel moved on.
The nightclub’s bar wasn’t a large one – most drinks were served at the tables – and was tended by a single ’droid. Ariel ordered a small white wine and turned to gaze idly toward the club’s outside entrance; then she started as she focused on the door, her lips falling from their smile and her optics locking on the woman who was entering.
This well and building are only part of a lovely build called Otter Cove, with lots of opportunities for photography. See below for the landmark.
Still half asleep, I sought the hill and found My vantage place, then stood a moment there To probe the wind for some familiar sound; But no vibrtation moved along the air, And I learned nothing that I did not know From the far east’s faint conglomerate glow.
A lovely build deserves a lovely dress. This spring outfit from Meva fits the need quite nicely!
I asked the stars, what destiny awaits Beyond this dark incalculable night? … And suddenly, incredibly, the gates Of morning opened to approaching light; Then, somewhere near, a bird began to sing — And my heart heard the whole world listening.
“… [I]n the absence of sensory information, the imagination always tends to the grotesque.”
Patrick McGrath
I’ve been doing a little cleanup in my Inventory, and found this gown. It’s vintage now, along with the hair and fur, but worth sharing in some photos.Read the rest of this entry »
I am that woman who would wait for dawn, Nor slept while the slow moon rode into sight;
Who, fighting weariness, gazed full upon The starry circle drawn around the night.
I saw the Milky Way fade like a cloud, And, drowsy-lidded, watched the distance grow Between me and the Pleiades, nor bowed To heavy hands of sleep upon my brow.
Then, when night grew more stilly palpitate Listening for the faint birth-cry of morn, And the cock crew, I, at the very gate, Fell into cloddish slumber, all out-worn.
Even as I slept, soft as a look or sigh, The Dawn with Love beside her passed me by.
I decided to catch up on some of the classic old locations again, and so made a visit to Port Babbage. I’ve never been much for steampunk; but I have to say that the Babbage regions are fascinating … if smoggy (lol).
I wasn’t quite in costume. Then again, as I said, I’m not that into steampunk; and anyway, as I understand, Port Babbage and Caledon aren’t that fussy on outtatime visitors.
Skin: Raonhausen Gweneth Milk Brows
Body: Maitreya Lara 4.1
Head: LAQ Skye 3.07 Bento
Eyes: Ikon Triumph (Chocolate)
Hair: rezology Sky 218
Outfit: A&M green moss turtleneck (system); Vextra Messing opaque pantyhose (Blue); Maddict Starlet leather pants; The Annex Belle coat (Gray)
Second Life® with Harper, Conan, Jem, Diana and Morgan
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