I know a woman who lives in a pine and fern forest. I have been living with her for several years now. She is a listener, especially when it rains. She lives out in a sparse part of Washington, along the Sound. This is all for the sake of getting it out. I may decide to change my mind about this woman. But I need to feel out her facts, because she has been a ghost for too long.

I can’t hold any more. I have seen my spirit and they are juggling. Always juggling. Holding too much.

Our fern forest lady is supposed to help someone get out of the public room, I think. She already has a few badges to her name. Which badges? Several infrastructural badges. She is among a legion of netizens creating a new landscape in online real estate, establishing pirate land on private archipelago networks out in nowhere towns like the sleepy town she lives in. She creates meeting rooms and maps for others to find her rooms.

There is another character, a little younger, who likes to leave notes for others to find. These notes are not addressed to anyone in particular. They are just left there. In spaces with particular character . These notes can only be seen with certain programs running.

Sometimes I’m fairly certain that all of this belongs to multiple stories or worlds. I have so much trouble sorting out where everything belongs.