The 24 Hours In Detail

[cyfishy]

In the end, of course, I failed.

It is probably for the best that I gave the blogosphere no more than a day’s notice—indeed, barely gave MYSELF more than a day’s notice—before embarking on this grand adventure. I suppose I’d have a harder time living it down if I’d made a massive show of my intentions.

I hadn’t slept well the night before—nervous anticipation, perhaps—but nevertheless logged in at 5:00 AM Pacific Time (Second Life Time, if you will), sent a quick missive via my BlogHUD that my journey had begun. I fussed with a change of clothes and then reverted to the red version of the Albert suit that I’d grown quite fond of.

I started on foot. There’s a small nature park up a slope from my home; I decided that was as good a place as any to start. I passed by the small Caledonian outpost and then made my way up to the park. There’s a small shrine there with a cushion to sit on. I paused to pray for some kind of blessing. Eventually, walking became troublesome, so I took to the air and looked to see what might be of interest. I prowled a few shops and then came across some kind of greenhouse that intrigued me. I made my way to it and went inside. It was an odd and opulent place, and had a Mahjong table in one corner, ready for play. I went for two (unsuccessful) rounds before deciding to move on. The furniture seemed suited for couples, and I made a mental note to bring Beginning back with me at some other time.

Further travel led me out of the Japanese-themed areas into a spot with a graveyard being frantically circled by a careening scripted witch. There was a carnival in the same spot, and while the rides seemed invitingly colorful, the proximity to a spooky house gave me a certain pause. I did explore the house though—phantom skeletons wandered and a few passed through me, but did no harm. I continued into a village with cabins for rental, a few shopfronts (some open, some empty) and a clapboard church. I tried to send a missive via the BlogHUD, but was thwarted by scripts being shut off for the area. I pulled out my map to see what looked interesting. A Linden highway was within striking distance, so I made my way there.

And that was my first hour or so, I think.

The vague sense of unease that one might have whilst walking down a two-lane highway diminished quickly enough when you realize that (a) there’s no traffic to speak of that’s likely to run over you and (b) it’s not going to do you any damage beyond a moment’s indignity if you do get hit by a speeding car anyway. As it turned out, I never came across any cars as I walked the highways. I did however, come across a one-horse open sleigh and went for a quick ride in it. The horse seemed to have its own ideas about where it was going, and didn’t seem to include gravity in its plans. My arms were curved around a space that belonged to a fellow passenger and again a pang of longing for Beginning’s company struck through me.

The troublesome thing I discovered about Linden highways, however, is that the potholes are a bitch. Solid ground turns out not to be solid when you fall through, but then becomes solid when you attempt to emerge. I solved the problem by casting my sight to the surface and selecting a spot to sit. Standing, however, left me in a hazy hovering realm where I wasn’t quite clear where I stood. Walking around eventually restored me to my original spot.

Since the Linden highways wind through the wild realms of the mainland, I came across residential and commercial spaces in no particular order. I stumbled on a photography studio and decided to investigate. I made several attempts to play with the backgrounds according to the instructions, but was unsuccessful. I wandered further and came across a darkened room of Egyptian artifacts. While I could have easily flipped on the lights by forcing the sun, I’d been curious to see the cycles of light and darkness in action, and was reluctant to interfere with them. I returned to the highway, and discovered a map that gave me a sense of where I was on the continent and pondered where I might be able to go from there. I came across a State Trooper’s office that apparently was in charge of administering speeding fines (?) and made the mistake of clicking on a mailbox out of curiosity. I also wandered some shops for child avatar bodies and skins, and came across a girl who spoke through a translation device. I bade her good morning, but was reluctant to say anything more complex than that.

I fell in another pothole and as I struggled to get out, I received an IM from caliburnsusanto, who was curious about my wanderings and asked for a temporary grant of ‘map privileges’ to see where I wound up. He was also kind enough to gift me with a simple transport that would, at the very least, keep me from falling in potholes. I had to wander off the road to find a place to unpack the box. I cast my sight to look more closely at a bizarre and colorful construction, but was wary of actually approaching it. After a bit of wandering and some dead ends, I found a shop and acquired my vehicle.

I came to a museum devoted to the history of Second Life, which provided glimpses into the world that was before I first incarnated into it. Another site I may return to at another time. (I neglected to take photographs of it.) My stroll then took me past a water slide and I took the advice of the sign posted by it and belly flopped my way down. I landed by the Eleanor Theatre and took a moment to sit and ponder my next move. I rezzed a new copy of my vehicle and continued my journey along the highway. Night abruptly fell and lifted again as I passed through one particular sim. I passed by shops for beverages, knitting needles, photography and gothic clothing. All of them were empty of visitors. I found a cafe that would allow me to re-rez a new vehicle when I needed, so I de-rezzed my transportation and had a sit down and a few drinks. I found myself fidgeting in my seat, though, eager perhaps to see more of what there was to see.

Since de-rezzing and re-rezzing a new vehicle became a bit of a burden, I took to remaining on the road and casting my sight to see what lay beyond. I came across a Viking-like ship and a grim looking building of undiscernible purpose. I also came across a sign helpfully pointing to HELL. I wasn’t sure exactly where it was meant to be pointing, since the path that way led to a dead end. However, a few moments after I made said observation to the blogosphere, the viewer veered into a hard crash and I was forcibly ejected from the world. So much for 24 unbroken hours. Ah, well. I returned to where I stood and as I was preparing to cast my sight down a pathway to see where it went, I was greeted by someone standing nearby.

I was startled, since four hours into my journey it was the first time I’d been spoken to by name. I drew my sight back to myself to discover a man in a tuxedo named Reizo Kamachi, who explained that he’d seen my blog post and used the link to see where I was. We chatted briefly and he wished me well on my journey. I found my way down another road and continued to explore. I came across jukeboxes and a movie theater, but didn’t sample either. I was tempted to acquire a sportscar to continue my travels with, but it cost more Lindenage than I had handy, and I didn’t feel like hitting up the LindeX for an impulse purchase. I passed a red phone booth that offered a landmark to the Inspire Space Park. It seemed the perfect sort of rabbit hole to tumble down.

I’d never been before, and was stunned by what I saw, even in daylight. While the signage directed me to force sun to midnight, I only looked at it that way long enough to post a blog entry and then stubbornly returned to the region settings for a little while longer and decided to teleport to the other areas to see if I could kill enough time for darkness to fall. In the mall, I stumbled on a miraculous pair of particle wings, free for the taking. They had apparently been designed in 2005 and released into the public domain in 2007. I fiddled a bit with the settings and came up with an arrangement that pleased me. I explored a bit more and decided to return to the main park. The teleport glitched and left me stranded in the clouds. I resembled an angel in one of Heaven’s waiting rooms. After a few attempts to return to whence I came, I reluctantly logged out and returned to my last known location.

I found myself submerged underwater, back on something resembling the ground. I flew upward to see where I was and saw that the sun was on its way down. I pulled out the map and made my way back to the highway. Another red phone booth helpfully provided me with a link back to Inspire. I sat down and watched the light fade down to darkness of its own accord. I took to exploring and a pair of poseballs again had me longing for Beginning’s company. I tried a meditative pose that had me drifting in space and then sat back in a regular chair to look over everything. I cast my gaze out to take in everything and it was still an astonishing sight. I declined the Tai Chi poseballs (though many other avies were using them) and settled on a meditation cushion for a long stretch, watching asteroids spin and listening to the slow throb of trance music. One of the creators, Raphael Cremorne, stopped by at one point. After a quick glance at his profile, I sent him an IM conveying my compliments, and he thanked me in return. I decided to watch the sun rise over the park. While daylight does slightly damage the illusion, the sight of the light rising gave it an ethereal beauty.

I used the chat log to grab the location I’d teleported from and returned to continue my travels on the highway. I wandered past parks, a parking lot and came to a broken bridge that I chose to fly over. Alas, it only let to another dead end and I finally gave up on the Linden Highway system in my quest for things to see and do.

I attempted teleportation to the Lost Islands of Duran Duran. (They are known as “Khanada”, “Sanhedralite”, “Azizi” and “Tlon”. The first three are references to relatively obscure Duran Duran songs; the name of the fourth baffles me to this day.) Each sim denied me teleport access, and so I turned my attention to the islands that sprang up in its vicinity, the closest being Birmingham City. Birmingham City is a rough edged urban environment that caters to a punk rock sensibility. The proximity to the Duran Duran islands is not nearly as ironic as one may think.

I pored the Events calendar to see if there was something I could attend. I went to a classroom area, but gave up before the class began. I went to an art/poetry show but was less than inspired by the work and quietly departed. I trundled to a few more galleries and found myself in Tranquil, where physical art by the Ngobe people of Panama was digitized for virtual frames. The artwork soothed me, by reminding me once more that beauty still lives here. I wandered a bit more and finally surrendered to firing up the external browser to see if any of Chestnut’s Choices on New World Notes held any interest. I blushed to discover that Hamlet Au had seen fit to mention my 24 Hours to the rest of the SL blogosphere. I picked up the link to the Hobo Island opening and made my way to the theater to see a couple of performances, which I sent photos from to my blogs. The crowdedness of the sim soon lagged me to the point I felt I was swimming underwater. Fatigue was starting to set in and I decided that new discoveries were well and good but it might be also good to focus on my regular hangouts for a while as well.

I teleported to Flotsam Beach and sat to watch the sun go down, having a little IM chat with GypsyDoctor as I did. He thought I was crazy, but wished me well. The darkness fell and I wandered to a crowd of people fishing just up the beach. I pulled out my rod and just sat and fished for a while. A chap named Sirius Solo asked if I was the same CyFishy that wrote the newbie guide that he’d made use of. “I'm the only CyFishy I know of,” I told him, “And I did write a Newbie Guide.” He thanked me and said that he had indeed found it useful, which was a wonderful thing to hear. The sun began to rise and a curious intersection of time took place, as the light rising on the screen matched the fading light outside the window I’d barely been looking at. The long night ahead began in the physical world as the sun rose over my shoulder in the virtual.

ceejay_writer had spoken highly of New Babbage, so I decided to take my explorations there for a bit. I’d been there earlier with Beginning but we hadn’t explored as much as we would have liked. I pulled up the search and the Little Anarchist Reading Room and Tea Parlor, naturally, caught my attention. Unfortunately, the teleport provided landed me next door, but with a little investigation I found my way there. It turned out to be a cosy but empty spot and I paused a bit there and then continued to wander.

I’d switched on the sound stream and was startled when I wandered into Kiergarten Armory to be confronted with soothing classical music and fine examples of weaponry. I explored a few more streets, found a train station and a gelato shop. At the gelato shop, a man in heavy military gear paced, looking rather out of place, before disappearing in the usual swirl of glowing dots. I tried to locate Ceejay’s establishment, the Cocoajava Cafe. Then I realized that there were far easier ways to find it. I pulled up Ceejay’s profile, checked her Picks and there it was. I teleported my way there and had a seat for a bit to contemplate where to go next. I sent Ceejay an IM to compliment her and she thanked me and we chatted a bit before she had to depart to prepare for her burlesque performance. She pointed me to Tiny Tin, an enormous mechanical man in the Vernian Sea and I went there to see what there was to see.

Tiny Tin is clearly one of those ironic names, as I was a mere dot in his palm when I cast my sight into the distance to take in the whole scene. Inside his chest was a ring of enormous mushrooms, a sight which had me signaling madly to the blogosphere. Twice. (There was also a rather nice parlor with some artworks as well, one floor up on the ladder.) I tried swimming to a nearby island, but found my movements became oddly restricted, and I teleported to the shore only to find the same troubles plaguing me. I sighed and logged out for a moment in the hope of resetting things. The problem resolved, I continued to meander through New Babbage and was oddly delighted to find my way to paths that were familiar to me from my previous explorations with Beginning. Apparently my physical sense of memory about spaces extends to virtual ones. I paused in Pennyfeather Park at the twelve hour mark and decided I wanted a change of scenery. A search in the Events listing took me to a modern art show and then to a geisha performance.

I had seen geisha at the Diversionarium many ages ago, and thought this might be a pleasant way to pass a small portion of my remaining time. By this time, I was at the level of incoherency that had me writing in my little notecard of field notes things like “twenty minutes to geisha.” I tried to kill some of those twenty minutes with a trip to Templum ex Obscurum, but since I wasn’t the only person who checked the Spotlight tab in Search, it seemed a bit too crowded for my sensibilities at the time. I vowed to return at some point. I reversed my course to where I’d been, a few other audience members arrived and by the time the geisha arrived to begin the performance things descended into the farcical as the geisha had to contend with an elaborate tip jar left on the stage by a previous performer that nobody had the ability to remove. I finally threw my hands up, wandered off and finally went to Quantum Fields.

Quantum Fields, as I’ve mentioned before in this blog, is one of my regular hangouts. I decided that I needed somewhere comfortable to be where I could tell people about my adventures so far. Monika Thor made sure to dose me with infusions of Positive Quantum Energy and I talked about the things I’d seen and done thus far. We drank beer (virtual and physical), Fred McClellan changed avatars every few minutes, elaborate gestures sparked across the screen and QTLabs Apogee spun a number of tunes I’d never come across before.

Methos Corinthian—a dear friend of mine who I know from RL—IMed me begging for help because his socks had mysteriously decided to become leotards on him. We teleported to my house so we could try things on and off in privacy and after a bit of bug testing I suggested he upgrade to the most recent version of the viewer or even the Release Candidate version. He disappeared to do so and I returned to Quantum.

Arya Braveheart was sighing that a newbie that she’d been trying to help had just disappeared with an “oh, nevermind” and I suggested that life in Second Life required a certain personality—the creative sort who enjoys figuring things out. “Nice way of saying 'the geeks',” Arya laughed.

Caliburn invited me to a Kala Pixie particle show and I decided to check that out. Unfortunately, I’d put on the particle wings to show people at Quantum so one of the first things Kala said to me was “dude, you did not just bring particle wings into my show.” I blushed and promptly removed them. Kala laid down the rules—no bling or particles, sun to midnight, music stream on. We took our seats and the seats were lifted straight up into the night sky. I snapped pictures, but have decided not to post them without Kala’s permission. I will say this—imagine the most dazzling, impossible fireworks and light show that you can think of. Now imagine being in the center of it. Kala had no control over the music stream as such, so she pulled things from her palette of light and color as the mood stuck her according to the tempo of what played on the screen. She also controlled the seats with verbal commands that sometimes sent us spinning at insane velocities. (“That's fun in mouselook,” Caliburn remarked.) She finished up and deleted the seats out from underneath us, sending us plummeting to the ground. I dusted myself off, thanked her profusely and again apologized for my faux pas.

I retreated to my house and tried to figure out what do to next. “Next” hurt to think about. The herbal stimulants I’d taken to keep the body awake had backfired, leaving me with a pounding heart and stomach pain, and I could no longer focus.

At approximately eleven o’clock, SL time, with six hours remaining to reach the twenty-four hour mark, I departed. I had been in Second Life for eighteen hours, longer than I had ever been previously, and my local time was two o’clock in the morning. I retreated to bed and did not fall asleep for at least an hour, but continuing to sit would have been agony. My mind whirled with everything I had witnessed and my dreams involved brick walls and flashing lights.

And what did I learn from all this? You'd think after three weeks to digest and write it all down (with the help of the hundreds of screenshots I snapped, which I may crop and add in at a later point) I'd have something that sums it all up nicely. But I don't.

I'm sure the SL-phobic will focus on the long stretches spent in largely empty spaces as proof of the world's uselessness. I'd simply see it as proof of a lack of planning on my part. And I can't say I minded the solitude. The sheer fascination of so much space to explore kept me hooked and plotting further walkabouts once I've sufficiently recovered from this past one. (The attempt at 24 hours of wakefulness skewed my sleeping patterns in ways I'm still readjusting to.) I learned that the connections I've made with people can be a lifeline that keeps me going. And the three lessons I posted immediately after (in the previous entry) still hold. Especially the third one.