Another somewhere, another space in time where I find myself again wandering, almost but not quite aimless among the silences, where echoes have not learned to be echoes yet.
Another land into which I’ve landed, or teleported, if only it was so easy in RL, or real life as we in the know call it, we on the other side. In the blink of a click the pixels rush in like fans to a stage when the band steps out. And so it resolves from not really there to still not really there and yet, really there, manifesting especially for me and not anyone else as I know for sure there’s no one else here. My radar tells me so, just another useful thing to add to my RL wishlist.
I wish I may I wish I might stay in here forever and a day...
Simulation, or simulacrum, could be either as both in their ways fit with this extradimensional landscape, digiscape, unfolding, unraveling with so much colour, form, even movement all the way down to the sea, or a sea, a nameless body of water across which I can’t go. I’m not allowed, no one is, not by sea or by air, only by magic unless… unless there’s a crossing place where two lands meet like tectonic plates having shifted and thrusted and crashed into each other at some point in this land of no time to merge as, almost, one.
I can see it, over there, another landscape but can’t scan it with my all-singing all-dancing radar, but I see it merely the tiniest of steps away. There might be a momentary lapse where it’s like being catapulted and no matter how hard you flail you’ve lost control and you find yourself walking through walls or in mid-air, or even burrowing into the earth, below which incidentally and a void and usually avoided.
I can see where I’ve been but to go back I’d have to experience yet again those waves of drunken lag. But the temptation to press on into the unknown is far too tempting.
“Beware: Sim Crossing”, read the sign. I should’ve seen it coming, though not all sim-crossings have them. It’s a bit like saying “mind the gap” as you step over in the hope you don’t fall down it and disappear forever into some otherwhere maybe even on the other side of the planet!
So you brace yourself, like at the start of a fairground ride, the one you’re not entirely sure if it’s going to make you throw-up or not. Hopefully the worse that’ll happen is a crash, as in logged out. Simple, just log back in again, but this was more in the old days and not so much now. Of course it’s still wise to wear a harness, just in case. With any luck then once you’ve made in one piece, and hopefully still with your clothes on, as yes, embarrassingly in the olden days that used to happen, an entire new simscape (my word) opens up, or resolves prim by prim as in literally appears in rapid little increments until it’s all there spread out before you virtual and real eyes.
What’s a prim? These are the building blocks basically that make up this world, even you, it’s weird I know, sort of like the atoms although they would probably be more accurately called a nanoprim, as opposed to megaprims which are obviously the opposite in scale and vast. Prim? It comes from the word ‘primitive’ although now there’s also sculpties and also mesh which is essentially the same thing or at least work along the same principles but being way more advanced, especially mesh, though like prims also have their limitations and preferred uses.
But beware and mind how you go because there are also off-sim hazards, although these are really hazards they are the spaces beyond which you, or your avatar, can’t ‘physically’ go and are duly stopped by like an invisible wall, or force-field even though you can see beyond it like the horizon and sun setting and such they are out of bound. Most probably it’s where there be dragons.
But that’s enough for now, to have found a sim, seen a sim, crossed sim-to-sim and discovered the dangers lurking off-sim. Now it has to be tequila-time, a prim-tequila of course.
© 2018 Anan Eebus
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