The Bob Saga: XVI: Bob Postcard Update

Written 9 October, 2010

The Bob Saga

XVI: Bob Postcard Update

Thank goodness we still get Saturday delivery of our virtual mail. The above postcard came this morning.

Sweetie snatched it out of my hands as soon as she saw me with it and immediately licked the back.

"The writing isn't visible yet," she said, "but this is blueberry!"

Sure enough, the following message soon appeared, lick marks and all..

"Sorry about that," Sweetie said, "but it was delicious!"

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The Bob Saga: XV: Sweetie Continues Her Analysis

Inspector Sweetie Examines Evidence
While Cheyenne Looks On With Admiration

Written 9 October, 2010

The Bob Saga


XV: Sweetie Continues Her Analysis

"Fortunately," Sweetie said," waggling her katana to emphasize her point, "we know some things about our amateur bobnappers."

"We do?" I asked, thinking I should perhaps duck.

"Certainly, she said. "We know, for instance, they carefully scouted the locations for the snapshots of Bob. They went to Splo, for instance."

"Right," I said. "Where else would one find such a mass of drinking birds?"

"Considering the horrid state of search in Second Life," continued Sweetie, "our amateurs must have made a concerted effort to find the only place in Second Life with more drinking birds than Whimsy. That suggests Deduction One: discipline and attention to detail."

"Attention to detail, check," I said.

"Our bobnappers also have a deep reverence, almost a fetish, for old-fashioned technologies. That's Deduction Two."

"Well, drinking birds DO date from the 1960s," I said.

To which Sweetie replied, "I mean FILM, for goddess' sake? FILM!"

"I marvel at your deducedness," I said. "Is that a word? Deductability? Deductiveness? Deductionality?"

[CLICK MORE BELOW TO CONTINUE]

"The bobnappers also sent postcards of a rural setting and an old Ferris wheel at Paris 1900."

"So that's what that was!" I said. "The coffee stains made it difficult to tell."

"And what else to go with pastries," Sweetie exclaimed brightly, "than coffee? [Editor's comment-- Unless you're British, of course.]  If I had been reading your blog more closely I would have solved the case when that photo first went up!"

"About that..." I said.

"Shhh!" Sweetie said. "Deduction Three: We also know our amateur bobnappers are experienced Second Life operators."

"We do?" I asked. "I was starting to get annoyed playing Watson to Sweetie's Sherlock.

"We do," she said. "Please don't get annoyed playing Watson to my Sherlock!"

Hmmm, maybe she was reading my blog after all!

Sweetie said, "We know this why? We know this because it's no small feat to shove a reluctant, 3000-year-old, deified 20-ton drinking bird into a chapel barely big enough to hold his head or lure him to the high decks of the Eiffel Tower. Both sims are, you will note, no build-- and Paris 1900 is no-fly. Definitely, these bobnappers have tricks up their sleeves."

"You keep saying they," I said. "Maybe there's just one Bobnapper."

"No, no," said Sweetie. "Which brings me to Deduction Tour: The fingerprint and saliva DNA on the cards have two distinct UUIDs, meaning they come from two separate avatars."

It took me a moment to digest this.

"Deduction Five: It's clear the bobnappers knew us well enough to think we would pay to get Bob back, but not well enough to know we would track them to the ends of the Metaverse. Or they thought we weren't capable of hunting them."

She continued. "My preferred theory is this: an arrogant personality is taunting us, daring us to figure out who she and her cohorts are."

"Look at the postcards," she said. "See the writing. I told you the ink was a clue. Have you guessed why?"

"No," I said. "I've been so busy typing this I've had no time to think. The ink is made from confections?"

"Precisely! And the finest of confections! Glaze. Raspberry jam. And darkest chocolate. Here's Deduction Six:: The chief Bobnapper wanted to point the sticky-sweet finger of guilt at not just any confectioner, but at our good friend BonBon Michelin. But that sticky finger points to only one person-- the most arrogant, heartless, donut-grid-connected villain in the history of binary!"

I gasped. "I'mSoNotADiva Bartlett!"

"Oh, you're so close!" said Sweetie, in her excitement cleaving a prim in two with her sword. "The SEVERED HEAD of ImSoNotADiva Bartless is the mastermind of this crime!"

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The Bob Saga: XIV: Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along

Written 6 October, 2010

The Bob Saga

XIV: Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along

You know that annoying Calling Cards folder in your inventory? Well, Sweetie has one called Fingerprints. It's huge, pushing her inventory to more than 800,000 items, but there was no match. Nor was there one in the FBI's IAFIS.

"There's just one more place to look," she said. "That's the Torley-Ravenelle FLICKR files. Those are massive. DOWNLOADING... Nope, not there, either. Our UNSUB's prints aren't on file anywhere."

"Meaning they've never been arrested," I said."Hmmm. I'll bet AlexHeyThere JuneauAlaska has never been arrested. He's been leaving a suspicious number of comments in this blog. I think he's still sore about the hummingbird."

"No, no, his name's not AlexHeyThere JuneauAlaska; it's AlexHatPin Jambalaya," said Sweetie. "And no, it's not Alex. He's not the one."

"Drat!" I said."I'm still leaving him in my Suspects folder. Just in case."

[CLICK MORE BELOW TO CONTINUE THE INSANITY]

"Don't put him in your suspects folder, Cheyenne," said Sweetie.

"Why not? Why isn't AlexHeyabusa JumpingJackFlash a suspect? He's suspicious."

"Exactly!" she said. "TOO suspicious. Therefore he isn't suspicious at all."

"I love your logic," I said. "I don't understand it, but I love it."

"I can sense it with my deeply ingrained espionage training," she said. "Alex is a spy. I'm just trying to figure out if he's the single, double, or triple latte type of spy."

"Okay, I'll bite," I said. "What's a triple latte spy?"

"The sort of spy who is charming, suave, slick with a quick answer. He does Romeo assignments, primarily. He stays up too late too many nights, so he has to consume triple lattes all the time to stay awake while working his 'I'm obviously so not  a spy' cover."

"Ah!" I said. "I like chai. What sort of spy does that make me?"

Sweetie ignored me. "I suspect Alex instigated the hummingbird attack to make contact with us.He uses it as an excuse to comment on the blog. If you spoke better Italian you'd know he's talking in code to his handlers. His last message was a complex algorithm. The message was 'drink more milk' That's spy talk for 'Send more money or I'll have to switch to black coffee.' So you can drop him from your list. He's a known quantity-- although he might prove useful in the future.'"

"But who is he working for?" I asked.

"Hmm," Sweetie said. "Sometimes it gets so tangled up you don't really know who you're working for.  It could be anybody. Perhaps the Lindens. You ARE a known troublemaker, after all."

"Moi?" I asked innocently.

"Or he could be a hit man for the Goreans. They have reason to hate you."

"For one single blog post?"

"You did call it Those Motherfuckers From Gor," Sweetie said innocently.

"That I did," I said. "Considering how many people I've pissed off over the years, it could be anybody."

Sweetie smiled and preened for a moment, using the shiny edge of the blade of her ever-present katana. "So, back to the matter at hand.The person who left that fingerprint was most definitely not a professional."

"No?"

"No," she said, thrusting her katana forward to emphasize her point. Sweetie is never subtle when making a point. "Because a pro wouldn't leave a print. This is the mark of a crazed amateur, I'm afraid."

"That's brilliant!" I said, backing away slowly-- because she DID have that katana in her hand. "An amateur! Ha! We'll have this wrapped up in no time!"

"No, she said. "The amateur part is easy. It's the crazed part that makes it difficult."

"You have that look of satisfaction on your face," I said. "There's something you're holding back."

"Yes," she said. "Remember I told you the lettering on the third postcard was written with slow-developing raspberry jam?"

"Yes," I said.

"The second card was written with confectioner's glaze. And the first, the one with black ink? It wasn't black at all, just dark, dark brown. Because it was fine Belgian semi-sweet chocolate!"

She continued. "Next postcard, please bag the evidence so I can't get to it," I licked nearly all the writing off before I could analyze it. I am not responsible for my actions when sweets are present."

"Sorry," I said.

The mastermind behind Bob's abduction is taunting us," she said. "Taunting us!"

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The Bob Saga: XIII: Sweetie Delivers

Written 6 October, 2010

The Bob Saga

XIII: Sweetie Delivers

I arrived on Whimsy at three AM and hurried to Sweetie's secret lair. There I found her hard at work on the first three postcards.

"Eureka!" She cried.

"I do not!" I said. "I bathed just hours ago."

"No, no, it means "I found it"! in Latin.

"You speak Latin?" I asked.

"All spies speak Latin," she said brightly. "E Pluribus Unum!"

"Uh, 'Tempus Fugit.'"

"Indeed it does," she said. "Look at this!" She thrust the first card under my nose. "Note the clever color of the ink. It threw me off."

"Um-hum," I said. "Looks black to me. What's so clever about that?"

"And there's the second postcard. Like the first card, the message appeared after some time."

"Where is it?" I asked.

"Silly girl," Sweetie said, "look at the top of this blog."

"Oh," I said.

"The writing on the second card was white. And it was smeary. And it tasted pretty good, too. And that brings us to the third card, the one from the church."

"I can't wait," I said.

"Here it is," she said.

"I don't see it," I said.

"Look down two lines," she said.

"Oh," I said, and looked.

"If the bobnappers had stuck with black ink," Sweetie said smugly, "they might have gotten away with it. But when the ink on the second card appeared, I started to figure it out. And this card-- I knew what it was, but just to be sure, I scraped a bit off and put it on toast and tasted it. And do you know what it is?"

"I'm holding my breath," I said.

"It's raspberry jam," she said, "and you know what that means."

I said "Raspberry? But raspberry preserves are the preferred accompaniment for--"

"For what, my sweet?"

"Beignets!" I cried.

"Exactly!" she said.

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The Bob Saga XII: Bob and His Peers

Written 5 October, 2010

The Bog Saga

XII: Bob and His Peers

I had just given Sweetie the last postcard to study when the one above arrived.

Sweetie was busy analyzing the card I gave her earlier today, so I went off by myself to look for clues. And I found them.

I thought I might know where the above photo was made, so I teleportred there, hit CTRL-0 repeatedly to reach maximum zoom, and scanned the sim most painstakingly.

I was about to give up when I found two negatives in the gutter. Woo hoo, exposure 15 seems to have a fingerprint on it! I'm on my way home now to give the new clues to Sweetie. She's going to have a sleepless night!

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The Bob Saga XI: Another Postcard

Bob Seems to Be in Some Sort of Cartoon Church

Written 5 October, 2010

The Bob Saga

XI: Another Postcard

I just received the above postcard. I would appreciate it greatly if readers would let me know where they think Bob is. It would provide an important clue and help us track down the bobnappers.

Bob seems to be some sort of church. I dunno, he might be in sort of graphic novel.

Thank goodness he's still wearing his hard hat.

Here's the back of the postcard:

Rather than send this to the police or wait to see if a message develops, I'm giving all the cards to Sweetie for analysis. Bet we'll see some action now!

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The Bob Saga: X: The Interview

Written 5 October, 2010

The Bob Saga

X: The Interview

Sleezy Spinoza: Welcome to Treet TV's morning show. Our topic today: robot rampage narrowly avoided on the Whimsy Sims. Our guest today is Cheyenne Palisades, who had a close call. Hi, Cheyenne.Welcome.

Cheyenne: Thank you Sleezey. Hi, Neelix. Long time no see.

Neelix Nesselrode: Welcome, Cheyenne. I don't think we've seen you since--

[CLICK MORE, BELOW, FOR THE REST OF THE INTERVIEW]

Sleezy: I believe since back in 2007 at Sweetie's trial.

Cheyenne: No, no, you showed up in June when I announced my candidacy for CEO of Linden Lab And back in the summer of 2008, Sleezy covered our donut conspiracy caper.

Neelix: Oh, yes, that's right! Tell us about the riot up at the robot lockup. And we understand you're missing something valuable.

Cheyenne: Yes, our Bob was stolen.

Sleezy: That would be your--

Cheyenne: Giant drinking bird, yes.

Neelix: When did you realize Bob was gone?

Cheyenne: I was up at the robot sanitorium when the power went off. The patients on 110 VAC stopped in their tracks. Even our patients with power packs are fragile. A R2 unit with robobsessive disorder went off the chain, worrying about its battery running down. A Robbie Model XII was crying "Danger! Danger, Cheyenne Palisades!" Robbies often suffer from robacluophobia-- robotic fear of the dark.

Gort Makes a Poor Light Source

Gort tried to use his laser beam to make some light. That wasn't a good idea, as he cut through the bars of the Hall 9000 Memorial Detention Facility for the Robotically Criminally Insane and Eyegor got out. Eyegor hates humans. I would have been done for, but for all of his huge eyeball, he's legally blind. I managed to sneak past him and talk Rosie into giving me a ride to the surface on her med sled. I went immediately to check on Bob. He was gone!

Sleezy: We understand he generates power for your land.

Cheyenne: Yes, he's the power source for six sims. He's the original perpetual motion machine. You just get his beak wet and stand back.

Neelix: We hear your partner, Sweetie, is an accomplished energy scientist.

Cheyenne: Yes, she's the world's foremost authority on drinking bird theory. Bob is what attracted her to Whimsy in the first place.

Sleezy: You and your mysterious partner Sweetie discovered Bob during a--

Cheyenne: Yes, a routine teleportation accident. We were dumped onto Whimsy, which had been vacant for centuries and was more than a bit run down. We don't know much about the original inhabitants, only that they left when the volcano goddess Pele had a particularly violent eruption.They head to leave Bob because he was so heavy he kept sinking their outriggers. We were so enamored of Bob that we decided to recolonize Whimsy and declare it an independent Nation-State.

Neelix: And now your giant granite mascot and power source is missing.

Cheyenne: Yes, and we think stolen. Bobnapped.

Sleezy: Bobnapped! That's chilling!

Cheyenne: The Linden police have been ineffectual-- they're running around arresting newbies-- so many, in fact, that it's having an impact on concurrency.

Neelix: Why newbies?

Cheyenne: They don't know how to teleport away.

Sleezy: We understand you were initially a suspect.

Cheyenne: Yes, but when the Lindens took a good look at my account and saw how much money I'm sending them every month, they looked elsewhere fast.

Neelix: Has there been a ransom demand?

Cheyenne: Not yet, but we've been getting... postcards.

Sleezy: Postcards?

Cheyenne: It's better than body parts. We just received another. I'll do a press conference with you as soon as we finish the interview.

Neelix: How coincidental. I find I haven't any more questions. You, Sleezy?

Sleezy: Nope. Can't think of a single one. This interview is concluded.

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