Events Most Strange

How these ruins have come to be is a matter of some debate, since it is assumed that SL’s prior inhabitants did not have access to the advanced polygonic technology we posses today. Nonetheless, there they stand. A testament to their builder’s ingenuity and sense of beauty. I could almost feel their presence in the air as I fiddled with my gear.

In the recent past, I’d perused the island/peninsula and discovered statues and masks of remarkable detail. However, there was an air of sadness and subtle ferocity in the carving which made me wonder at its source. Was it a cultural characteristic or was it in reaction or testimony to some significant event in the builders lives? Maybe I was presuming too much, but that was the impression that I was left with.

Lauk’s most recent caretaker had built a lovely particle device upon the mount that reacted to movement and made the process of dancing most enjoyable.

Alviso lies adjacent to a large Void Sim known as Tasman. It was my intention to deploy from the dock and from that point head into the deeper and darker waters of Tasman.

I donned my scuba suit, tank and flippers feeling most ridiculous and a bit inane, like a grand duck. Perhaps insane would have been a better word. But if I did not have faith in my sanity, who else would? I checked the mini-map and, as fortune would have it, no one appeared to be nearby except for one green dot in the distance.

Standing on the dock and gazing at the full moon, I listened to the waters lap against the edge and tried to steel myself for the journey ahead. Even though I was in the Sim tropics, there was a chilly bite to the night air and the wind picked up causing me to shiver in my wetsuit.

The tank was heavy and the straps pulled against my shoulders as I fitted my mask and checked the regulator on the supposition that it was better to find out now that the apparatus was inoperable than when I was below water.

All was fine though and with one last look at land, I asked the ancient spirits of the ruins – if they were present at all – to aid me in my adventure or at least not to interfere.

I summoned my bathysphere, the Tough Nut, to the dock and, thankfully, she still appeared quite seaworthy after the battering I’d given her the other day against the ocean floor during testing.

With much effort, I struggled onto the roof of the Tough Nut and, after a moment’s hesitation, leapt thought the hatch, closing it behind me with an echoing thud.

I took the controls, activated the vehicle and ...

...promptly made a wrong turn into the stone dock, nearly impacting someone’s pleasure boat. With a small scream of frustration, I managed to reorient the Tough Nut in the proper direction and gave her a quick once over to determine if my ineptitude had cause her any damage. Fortunately, there appeared to be none. I was queasy that a cursory visual inspection might not have identified a more serious problem, but I forced that from my mind and concentrated on the task at hand. Namely, steering!

The currents fought the sub vigorously as I headed out into deeper water.

By the time it crossed the border into Tasman, they were quite strong, making the bathy a bit difficult to control and slowing down our progress by about fifty percent.

When I hit Dive, the Moon hid its face and the ocean floors vast expanse came into view after a long descent. The cliché phrase, “inky blackness” sprang to mind, and whether or not I liked to admit it, its application was extremely apt in this seemingly lifeless section of the ocean.

I quenched the engines and brought my trusty submersible to a halt. The silence of the ocean was pervasive and emphasized by the slow pulse and hiss of the Tough Nut’s aeration system.

Rising from the control chair, I once again put on my scuba gear and headed towards the hatch.

With a deep breath, I noted the time and current depth, and evacuated the Tough Nut utilizing the airlock function. The cold was a shock against my skin and with a quick kick I swam away from the sub trailing bubbles in my wake.

Realizing I was headed in the wrong direction, I turned around and swam closer towards the center of the Sim.

As I swam farther and farther away from the Tough Nut, it dawned upon me how comforting it would have been to have a diving companion (not to mention recommended). I felt so alone and, to be honest, a bit beyond my depth (no pun tended).

moving into darkness...

I paused and hovered above the ocean floor at coordinates (10,181) and felt the weight of the moment upon me as I prepared to deploy the Combobulator. Was this something of how Oppenheimer and Company had felt before they had tested the first atomic bomb? I’d heard that they’d had certain fears that the explosion might cause a chain reaction and destroy the entire world. Certainly, I did not put myself in this class, but nonetheless, the unknown consequences of my plans made me tremble a little. My heart sped up and blood rushed to head. I concentrated upon calming myself in an effort to conserve oxygen and avoid breathing too quickly.

With a click and a single gesture I flung the Combobulator into being.

The lights were all the more magnificent in the darkness of the deep as they spun about the central “prim”. I heard a deep humming noise and the earth itself seemed to undulate before my eyes and then slowly subside.

All of the sudden, my head began to pound and a stabbing pain centered itself between my eyes. Although not intolerable, it was not the most pleasant of sensations.

My vision blurred and then, as if drawn by some inexorable force, a shape began to rise from the ocean bed beneath the Combobulator.

It was more or less the color of the seafloor and as it rose, it took on a cylindrical appearance. My headache and pain subsided as the form rose farther and farther.