Plans

From here we can see the Tourist ring when Madison spins into view. We’ve got a pool going on how long before them two get brought back down home. Only about five of us betting on them getting through. Can’t speak for the others, but for me, I’ve always been a sucker for the longshot.
I dug through the archives and found some OldWeb links to places B and T are visiting. Good for you to see some of what we had in the once-upon. Maybe get you moving, get you thinking: Why ain’t we allowed back up to the old ball?

Plans and plans. Who cares.
Coffee. Black. Hot.
Mother Fools. That’s the name of the place. Coffee shop from the Pre. Place I loved. When life was what it was then a place of respite. A place to gather. Beauty in the eclectic. Mirror pieces fallen. Paint flaking same on same. Always wore the worn look well. The old voices trapped in dust and cobweb. Affected lurk in shadow around corners. Quiet. Uncertain. Tuck is right. They don’t know us anymore. We are not part of their ecology.
The painting is still clean. Surprising. Good shape. Maybe it’s one of them too, who’s to say?
It’s good to be here.
Calm. In the moment.

Sitting in some old coffeeshop. Barl laying out the plan and talking a lot about the once-upon-a-time. Events, places. This was his home then. Lived the life of the teeming masses when aliens were just a good escape. When monsters were the stuff of tall tales, not horrors built from once were people.
Mad Rollin’ Dolls. Barl insists that I not write the g. Used to go to the games he says. Tells me of how he picked a new suit based on the colors of the previous season’s losing team. Magic Missile. Mouse. Cyborg. Major Kusaknocky. Tipsy Velvet. He names them in a stream. A couple I recognize. Heritage names and I say so but he’s all dismissive. Not talking modern. Jumps, runs, pushes in lunar gravity, not the same.
Says it like not the same equals not as good. I doubt he’s right. Come try out the weight here. Then try to imagine a full block flip. Seriously.
Old Sugar. Next stop he says. Or next after next. Open a barrel and see how their whiskey aged.
Union Terrace. Beer and brat by the lake. He explains what brats are. One of those lost foods I guess, at least the way he explains it. Not a hot dog. Not salami. Way he explains it, sounds a lot like a hot dog.
Memories flop out of Barley like the loose fabric of a big tear. Fine if you’ve got the tools, fixed and done. If you don’t: Dangerous.
Barley with coffee: Tooled.
Barley with alcohol: Not tooled.
Going to have to work on that. I plan to do some drinking.

From here, you can go on to the next, or right on back to look at all Barley’s pretty pictures in the grid.