It was hardly past the stroke of midnight in downtown Parodiopolis, and the party was in full swing. Everywhere people were celebrating, and all of those celebrations had spilled out into the streets. People we eager to be together, as the war had most decidedly been a team effort for the entire planet, and the home team had won.

Visionary smiled as he sat on the low brick wall surrounding Off-Central Park and watched the revelers in the plaza. His eyes were drawn to a large contingent of green skinned beauties off to the side of the larger crowd (though gathering more than their share of attention.) Miiri was beaming in the reunion with her sisters of Caph, as they had long been separated ever since the Manga Shoggoth had removed their current home of Lemuria from the Parodyverse in order to protect it from the Parody Master. With great ceremony, Miiri was proudly introducing the now aged Griffin to them. The boy caught his father's eye and mouthed a silent "help" as the gaggle of former slave girls fawned over him with absolute delight. Visionary grinned, turned up his hands and shrugged helplessly, albeit with some sympathy... Their combined attention was intimidating at any age, no doubt.

"That boy's a charmer" A voice noted from behind the Regular. Visionary turned to find Lisa and Asil hopping up on the wall to sit alongside him. "Must get that from his mothers" the former lawyer noted mildly. "And his Godmother, no doubt."

"Right. So you're keeping that position, then?" the Regular checked.

"Hey, every kid should have a Godmother who can bring his enemies to horribly, nasty, painful ends." She sniffed proudly. "Now I can simply do it in a cosmic capacity, without having to worry about weighing down the bodies afterwards."

"Perhaps making her Destroyer of Tales wasn't the best way to go..." Asil noted mildly.

Visionary shrugged again. "The job does traditionally go to somebody evil, you know. Besides, do you really want to go back to that giant Celestian god-machine and pull the lever for a different result?"

"Hmmm..." Lisa mused with resignation. "I suppose I do have to thank you both for that little trip you took on my behalf. And for letting me know that you can manipulate even Celestians by pulling on their levers. Works with most guys, but still." She gave Visionary a side-long look. "Don't think for a moment that I'm not going to kick both your asses later for the fool-hardy crap you pulled in making that little expedition."

Asil bit her lip and bounced her heels against the wall. "Does this mean you'll be sticking around? For the ass-kicking and beyond?"

Lisa grimaced and looked out across the crowd. "I don't quite know how it will all work exactly, but... I don't think I'll be around to mock your hero over breakfast every morning. He'll likely get his crullers in peace finally."

"Chronicler and Carrington used to hang out all the time, despite being big cosmic muckity-mucks" Visionary noted hopefully.

The new Destroyer sighed. "The cosmic side of the Parodyverse is kind of in tatters. It's a pretty unholy mess out there... And things in general are a lot more complicated than they used to be back in the day. Things have changed. Things are still changing." She smiled ruefully. "Carrington... Jeeze, it feels like forever since it was just a handful of us working out of that shack of a headquarters."

"That reminds me..." Visionary said, rooting around the inside pocket of his coat. He found what he was looking for and presented it to the First Lady of the Lair Legion. "It's one of the few that survived the fire at the condo" he explained as she examined the singed photograph with care. The entire reformed League of Regulars was seated around a table, smiling for the camera. Donar and Enty, Cheryl and Lisa, Vizh, Yo and Rabito... There was even a fern evident behind Donar's left shoulder that may have been either spiffy or a houseplant. The edges were blackened, and cracks and bubbles appeared in the surface, but the image remained cheerful despite the wear. "If you had to go... I wanted you to have it, so that you wouldn't forget the little people now that you're all cosmically important and all."

"I..." she swallowed, blinking. "Thank you" she managed, before the wry expression was restored. "I don't suppose you have any pictures of the guys naked, do you? For old time's sake?"

"No."

"Ah well... this one is nice too. And I could never forget the little people like you Vizh. I mean, when you see a guy is that small, it's really an impression that stays with you forever..."

"Evil, evil, evil..." Visionary muttered. "It's a night for celebration, so don't start baiting me..."

"I would never" Lisa grinned, winking. "And really, that's not my department. Me, I'm all about bringing on the satisfying climax." She nudged him playfully. "Besides, you're the one who got drenched in the energies of the Storyheart. If anyone should be out starting something, it's you."

"Wait... what?" the Regular asked, looking down at his hands worriedly.

"Hey, you activated the awe-inspiring, omnipotent snow-globe that unmade the most powerful man in the universe from the inside out, and you did it without wearing a lead lined Haz-Mat suit or even a pair of rubber gloves." She nodded, impressed. "That's pretty hard core."

"He's very hard core" Asil agreed readily.

"I didn't... wait..." The Regular countered. "Um... I don't suppose Al B. has some kind of cosmic decontamination chamber tucked away on standby...?

"Pffft. Don't be a baby. Just because you're a seething cauldron of horrendously epic plot-lines waiting to unravel explosively is no reason to worry. I'm sure most of them won't involve the end of the universe. Only six or seven, tops."

"Um..." Visionary swallowed. "Is it too late to get blown up by a narrative bomb then?"

"Of course, I suppose a clever man would try to take the bull by the horns."

"There are bulls in these plot-lines? Do I get gored? Tell me I don't get gored..."

Lisa grinned. "Focus Vizh. You can wait for the leftover cosmic whammy of the Storyheart to choose your adventures for you, or maybe... Maybe you can dissipate it a bit by starting some yourself." She reached out and grabbed his chin, turning his head to look out at the crowd. "So... any new adventures you've been thinking about undertaking?"

Visionary blinked. There across the plaza, among the throngs of celebrating Parodiopolans, Hallie stood holding Magweed's hand among a circle of well wishers. Tandy and that huge steam-driven robot friend of hers were there, as were a crowd of excited G.I.s, all eager to meet her and shake her hand. She was grinning and laughing, and Visionary couldn't help but smile himself at the sight of them all. "Oh!" he swallowed, suddenly realizing what Lisa was getting at. "Oh... um... right. Okay." He took a deep breath and clenched his hands. "Right then. Excuse me a minute..."

Lisa and Asil watched him stride purposefully through the crowd. "I think he was less scared by the Parody Master" the Destroyer of Tales noted.

---

Visionary weaved his way through the crowd, nodding, smiling and clasping hands with well-wishers, his heart thudding in his ears with almost enough volume to drown out the crowd. His hands were a little sweaty, and he realized he was clenching them repeatedly as he walked. Finally, he shouldered his way through the ring of admirers to where Hallie and the others were. His daughter was the first to see him, and she disengaged herself from her mom's hand to get lifted up into his arms.

Despite her unease around people, even she was smiling at the sheer goodwill and happiness that radiated out from the square. She had to lean close to his ear for her normally quiet voice to reach him. "Mom says she's going to put on a fireworks show for everybody in the park!" Maggie informed him excitedly. "We need to go tell Griffin and Samantha so they don't miss it..."

"Okay kiddo..." Visionary assured her, taking a deep breath. "There's just... I need to do something first, okay?"

She looked at him carefully as he watched Hallie, and her eyes widened slightly. Her smile tightened back to the corners of her mouth as she hopped down and went to Tandy. Looking back to him, she nodded in encouragement.

"Right... So..." Visionary approached the jubilant hologram who was talking animatedly to a soldier in the crowd.

"Hey, buddy..." One of the G.I.'s called to him as he slipped past the line of well-wishers. "You gotta wait your turn."

"I already have" Visionary answered absently. He tapped the glowing woman on the shoulder as he stood there, straight as a board. She turned to glance briefly at him, smiling, then turned back to him again with a puzzled look as she took in his hesitation. "I just..." he began. "I wanted to say..."

She leaned towards him, her head tilted to the side and brow furled in an effort to hear him. "Vizh? What's..?"

"Aw, the heck with it..." he decided, reaching out to brush his palms across her lower checks, his fingers tracing their way under her hair to the back of her neck. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth opened slightly to respond when he pulled her into a kiss, pressing his lips to hers and bringing their bodies close together. She stiffened slightly at first, and then she was kissing him in return, eagerly. His arms slid down her body, supporting her back as he turned dipped her extravagantly. She bent her knee, lifting her right foot up behind her as her arm slid up to the back of his neck to hold them together. A cheer went up from the crowd as the kiss went on and the two of them lost themselves in the sensation of it all.

They broke the kiss when it felt like they were out of breath, their still unfocused eyes searching each other's faces. "Um... Would you like to go out?" Visionary ventured to ask. "Maybe this Friday?"

She blinked, her eyes wide and a smile curling at the corners of her mouth.. "Yes... Okay" she replied with a series of excited, happy nods.

"Damn" a soldier in the crowd sighed before throwing his hat into the air along with many of the well-wishers. "I wish I had thought of that."

---

Over on the brick wall surrounding the park, Asil clapped with delight. "So tell me..." she said, leaning her head towards Lisa. "Is there really such a thing as residual Storyheart energies?"

"Like I'll ever say" the woman answered her clone smugly. "But if that didn't work, I was prepared to march him over there by shotgun before I left."

They sat in silence as they watched the possibly fake man and the holographic woman be congratulated by friends and fans. "They get a happy ending..." Asil finally asked quietly. "Right?"

Lisa's eyes darkened with the depths of new-found power. "I don't envy anyone who tries to make me deliver them any other kind."

The clone girl accepted this answer, as it was at least more assurance than most people could hope for.

"You'll keep an eye on him for me, won't you?" Lisa asked softly.

Asil nodded. "Don't I always?"

The new Destroyer grunted in agreement, watching the festivities. "You know... if you squint at him just right... he almost looks like a pretty great man" Lisa grudgingly admitted.

Asil smirked. "I am so going to tell him you said that."

Lisa grimaced and sighed. "You know... sometimes you are such a doody-head."

Wonderfully written, really brought back the memory. The Parody War was a favourite of mine - I do need to go back and re-read it all one day in the not too distant future.

And of course, you beautifully captured the moment in Visionary Technicolour!

Well done possibly fake pretty great man.

Al B.

It would likely take me more than one day to reread it all! Especially all of the various tie-ins and whatnot. Still, some of my own favorite stories were set during that stretch as well, obviously... what with the Mythlands stuff and the Robosapien rights material.

Honestly, as immodest as it may be to say, I think that we here at the board did the major universe-encompassing events far better than the published comic universes do. Especially with HH doing all of the heavy lifting.




It started out being a much more sedate image, but then I said "screw it" and figured I'd go all-out on the whole "made of light" thing.

Anyway, thanks!

Loved the pict...didn´t read the story yet, late here, but the pict was sooo cute

And Visi looked different ...Must be the kiss, but he looked younger and more handsome than I remembered..love is in the air

That's the thing. It all ends in fireworks!

Sir Mumphrey thinks this is a jolly good show, and that Visionary should make an honest woman of the gel now. The Hooded Hood notes that the AI has trouble maintaining her artistic subroutines under emotional stress. Flapjack thinks the picture needs more tongue.

Lots of holograms suffer from premature firework ignition.




I don't think that they've yet had the chance to get all that dishonest...




I have that same problem.




He really should stop licking the monitors.

It's a sad comment on my current dating life that Valentine's Day drew so little notice.




Lisa had a good role in that one, so you'd probably like it!




His hair is much better than mine, currently... there is no doubt. Glad you liked it though!

Here's a "stealth story fragment" from a dusty corner of my hard drive that I do intend to continue one day. I'm dropping it in reply to your story because there are certain elements in it that I estimate to hit your interest zones. Unfortunately there are no ponies in there, although you are at liberty to imagine all the characters are equine if you so wish. ***     The dungeon cell had three large iron bolts, and the prisoner shuddered as each one was scraped back. She shied away from the torchlight when the guards threw the door open. She huddled in the corner, afraid they would hurt her again.     â€œHere she is, sir,” said the sergeant. “This is the witch.”     The justiciar’s clerk stooped under the low door and entered the tiny cell. The rough floor was scattered with filthy straw and there was a ring drilled into one wall to hold the prisoner’s manacles; nothing else.     â€œThank you,” said the newcomer. “I’ll need to examine her.”     â€œVery good sir,” approved the sergeant. “Shall we hold her down for you?”     The clerk was a young man. He looked disconcerted at the guards’ knowing leers. “I want to talk with her.”     â€œAh. Right sir. But if you want to inspect her properly later sir, we’re all ready to help. The lads have been waiting their turn till the justice comes, but…”     â€œLeave the torch. I’ll call when I want you.”     The sergeant bit back whatever he was going to say. The clerk was young but he had a powerful master. Better not to get on the wrong side of the king’s justiciar. Not if one didn’t want to be burning next to the witch.     He kicked the cowering girl. “Right, you. Here’s Master Aivry come from Edinburgh all the way to test you. Best be confessing everything or it’s the thumbscrews and the winkle for you.”     â€œThat’ll do, sergeant,” said the clerk firmly. “Leave us.”     The sergeant looked from the young scholar to the chained naked girl and tapped his nose knowingly. He departed, slamming the bolts closed as he went.     The girl peered at Master Aivry over her shoulder, biting her lip.     The clerk squatted down by the door. “Hello?” he ventured.     The girl didn’t reply. Her flesh was pale beneath the dirt, with smears of blood where they’d pushed in the pins to check for the devil’s spot. Her shoulder-length hair was knotted into sweaty rat-tails. She’d have been pretty under other circumstances. The soldiers had certainly enjoyed searching her.     â€œI’m the justiciar’s clerk,” the young man tried again. “I’m only here to establish the facts. I’m not here to hurt you. I don’t even know what a winkle is.”     The girl tried to push herself further into the corner. The heavy chains on her wrists and ankles chinked.     Master Aivry scratched his head. “This isn’t working. Let’s try again.” He held out his hand, then pulled it back as the witch flinched. “Sorry. Look, I’m only here to talk to you. Just to talk. My name’s Sion.”     Wide, wary eyes stared at him.     â€œAlright, my actual name is Blow-Ye-The-Trumpets-In-Sion.”     There was a tiny flicker of those parched lips. “Blow-Ye…?” the girl asked, bemused.     â€œBlow-Ye-The-Trumpets-In-Sion. From the Book of Joel. My parents were big fans of the minor prophets.”     â€œThey must have been.”     Things were going a little bit better now. Sion slipped off his coat. The witch froze up again.     â€œI think you need it more than me right now,” the clerk said. “What happened to your clothes?”     â€œThe soldiers tore them off. When the priest examined me.”     â€œSorry. Look, take the coat. I think you’re owed one.”     The girl couldn’t get the coat on over her manacles so she pulled it to cover herself like a blanket. “What now?” she asked warily.     â€œNow we chat.” The clerk looked down at the notes he’d been given. “You’re Black Helen.”     â€œNo.”     â€œNo?” Sion checked the paperwork. “It says here…”     â€œI’m Helen. Black Helen’s what vicious ignorant folk call me.”     â€œRight. Sorry again. Helen. Not Black Helen.”     â€œNot Black Helen. Although even Black Helen’s better than Blow-Ye-The-Trumpets-In-Sion. How did you even survive childhood?”     â€œI learned to run fast and to duck,” confessed the clerk. “So, not-Black Helen, it says here you confessed to being a witch.”     â€œYes.”     â€œYou’re a witch?”     â€œI confessed to it. That doesn’t make me a witch. It just makes me somebody who doesn’t want to be burned with pokers any more.”     Sion checked the priest’s spidery handwriting. “So you didn’t have congress with the devil?”     â€œNo. And I didn’t have congress with Ned the Weaver, either, which might be why he gave testimony against me.”     â€œThe midwife examined you. You’re no maid.”     â€œI had a lover. He’s long gone. That makes me a slut not a witch.”     â€œIf you were a slut wouldn’t you have had congress with Ned the Weaver?”     â€œMaybe I’m a slut with a sense of smell?”     Sion snorted. “A sense of humour, anyway. I’m glad they haven’t scared it out of you quite yet.”     Helen’s smiled faded. “They’ve surely tried,” she said in a small voice. She looked away to the wall. “I’m very frightened, Master Sion.”     â€œYou don’t need to be frightened of me, Mistress Helen.”     The witch glanced back at the young clerk. “No…” she decided. “I don’t think I do. I don’t know why but…”     â€œI’m just here to see you get a fair hearing,” Sion told her. “I have to assess all the facts and then report to the justiciar, my master. Then he’ll conduct a hearing and pass judgement.”     â€œSo if you tell him to let me free then he’ll release me?”     â€œUm… in theory that could happen, yes. My notes tend to be more advisories.”     â€œHow many times has the justiciar let someone free because you recommended it?”     Sion looked uncomfortable. “It could happen,” he offered lamely.     Helen dropped her head back down between her arms.     â€œDon’t despair,” Sion pleaded. “Look, let me establish a few facts. Without the pokers.”     â€œWhat’s the point? They’ll burn me anyway.”     â€œPlease. Humour me.”     â€œWhy should I? Those guards have already told me what they’re going to do to me once sentence is passed. It’s a perk of the job, evidently.”     â€œHumour me because I’m called Blow-Ye-The-Trumpets-In-Sion. You don’t have to face that fate. Not if I can just establish the facts well enough.”     Helen sighed. “Well, it’s better than sitting in the dark waiting for the next torture,” she decided. “Go on.”     Sion dipped his quill into his inkpot and took a fresh sheet of vellum. “Right then. Let’s start with the easy one. Are you actually a witch?”     â€œYes,” said Helen.     â€œNo, you don’t have to confess,” the clerk told her. “I won’t hurt you. I’m not going to winkle you or whatever. I just want to know the truth. So are you a witch?”     â€œYes. I’m a witch.”     Sion put his pen down again. “Ah.”     Helen felt almost sorry for the hapless clerk. “I didn’t have congress with the devil, if that helps,” she offered.     â€œMaybe you just know old folklore,” Sion suggested. “You know which herbs to give animals and people to make them well again, and the secrets of midwifery.”     â€œI do,” agreed Helen.     â€œAnd that’s why folks are suspicious of you, living alone in your cottage outside the village with your cat and your cauldron. Superstition gone mad.”     â€œYes. And also I can do magic.”     Sion blinked. “Magic. You do magic?”     â€œYes. Sorry, but I can. That’s why I’m a witch.”     The clerk shook his head. “If you can do magic then do some now. Show me.”     Helen shook her shackles. “I’m bound in iron. That stops the magic working. Otherwise I could conjure up all kinds of visions for you. Illusions of flowers and animals, showers of butterflies, rainbows and treasures and all kinds of wonders.”     Sion was about to refute that when he saw the girl’s face. As she spoke of her creations her eyes lit up and she looked far beyond the walls of her dungeon cell. Her face was radiant.     Sion’s heart turned over.     â€œYou think I’m mad,” Helen told him.     â€œI think… I don’t know what to think, to be honest. You’ve confessed to witchcraft, both in this statement and to me. You seem sane – saner than I’d be in your position – but you speak of making things from thin air.”     â€œOnly images,” the witch clarified. “My sculptures have no substance. I can make them move but they can’t be touched. They can’t harm.”     â€œHow did you get these gifts?”     â€œI don’t know. I’ve had them as long as I can remember.” Helen shifted uncomfortably under Sion’s coat. “Look, I’ve never harmed anyone. I’ve always tried to help the people of the village, with remedies and knowledge. I’ve never signed a pact with Satan, or blighted cattle, or ridden men to death in their sleep, or any of that. I am a witch but… does that make me bad enough to burn?”     â€œExodus 22. 18 seems to think so,” admitted Sion.     Helen wasn’t impressed. “The Hebrew word m'khashepah doesn’t mean witch. It means a woman who speaks spells to harm others. The language of Deuteronomy 18 is equally specific about the kinds of magic it condemns, mostly divinations and necromancy.”     The clerk’s eyes widened. “How do you know that stuff?”     â€œI’ve no idea. I just do. I know things sometimes, like the right healing plants or what medical symptoms mean.” Helen cupped her head in her hands. “Why am I talking to you? I might as well light the bonfire myself!”     She started to cry, softly.     Sion found himself moving forward to hold her. She tensed at his touch and looked up.     â€œIs that it, then?” she asked, blinking back tears. “Is that what I have to do to escape?”     Sion pulled his hands away and shied back. “No. No, not at all. Absolutely not. I wasn’t… You don’t… No.”     Helen looked at the young man thoughtfully. “No, you didn’t mean that, did you? I was hurting and you just wanted to help. I’m not… People aren’t usually kind to me. They come to me quickly enough when they want help, but behind my back the call me names. Black Helen. Soldier’s Tart. Greenhag. And a lot worse. They don’t think I’m fit to be one of God’s children.”     Sion wiped a tear from her cheek. “You don’t deserve to burn,” he told her.     â€œAnd your master will listen to you, will he?” Helen asked, without hope.     â€œWell, he might,” the clerk said. “Besides, I’m going to order your release now.”     â€œDo you have the authority?” wondered the witch. “I mean, you’re a clerk, right? Not a real justiciar? You can’t really help me, can you?” She huddled miserably under the scholar’s yellow coat.     â€œI’m real,” declared Sion Aivry. “Dammit! And somehow I’m getting you out of here.” *** Continued in "The Da Visionary Code" Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2016 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2016 to their creators. This is a work of parody. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works are in fair-use parody and do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. Any proceeds from this work are distributed to charity. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.

Nice stealth story.

...come to the Parodyverse and don't slavishly check every thread?




There's a whole lot of background and lore to the Parodyverse, to be sure.




She's glowing!




Welcome. I always enjoy seeing your art.

I can't imagine what the connection could be with Helen and that Sion Aivry guy, but here's hoping those two kids make good. Quite the dark set-up for things, but with a fitting amount of light coming through as well. I liked the bit where she talked about making her constructs and how he responded. It was a rather charming encounter, as long as one looked past the setting and implications and whatnot. Maybe not a modern "meet cute", but a reasonable Dark Ages version.

I really do hope to read the full story someday!




As I do read a fair amount of equine fiction, I have to say it really isn't hard to do... the good ones read like Parodyverse stories (especially Parodyverse stories starring Pegasus, I suppose.) But then, you know that I've never been overly worried about the accident of a character's condition... I don't care if they're unicorns, or robotic fleas, or holograms, or completely unremarkable and entirely real people. None of that affects whether I connect with them or not.

Nice? It's a brutal inditement of 15th century supersition and prejudice and a mordent comment upon traditional narrative gender roles!

Or it was getting itchy having squatted on my hard drive for about twelve years.

Their only change of surviving the Inquisition would be to gather together some kind of regular league of friends with similar problems. And then to locate a lair for themselves.




We established as far back as Untold Tales #8 that ripples from events in the modern day had sent "echo" versions of PV characters through time. Here are examples.

If I ever get to the much-touted Da Visionary Code storyline, the plan is to drop certain PV characters into the actual lives and bodies of similar historical people. Hence the set-up story.

I never got far enough to cover the fact that Aivry's master is travelling to arrest the heretical Halronimus the Harper for his insane theories about the Parodyverse revoloving round a bunch of costumed heroes.




I really do hope to write it someday. Who knows?

But even as I'm replying to this, I'm procrastinating from the major edits required to "The Feast of the Goblins" for The New Adventuires of Richard Knight volume 3.




There's a lot to say about readers' ability to suspend belief regarding many absurdist apsects of a story, including anthropomorphic animal protagonists, magic, and super-powers, providing the core interactions feel right tous. We've been doing it at least as far back as the Olympian gods.

I remember this story fondly from, dang, nearly a decade ago. Nice to see the appropriate illustration added to it.

It's amazing how many problems could be solved with secret lairs. I don't know why more people don't have them. Regardless, that sounds like a story I want to read!




Indeed... I recall a prior example involving Marie's origins, pre-banshee. (Or was that Untold Tales #8 itself?)




Sounds like he's touched in the head. Still, just because he may be mad, doesn't mean that he's wrong. And again, this really sounds like a story that I want to read...





I find that many of my most creative phases happen when I'm supposed to be accomplishing something else entirely. I like to think that procrastination brings out the best in me.




For me, I always enjoy the intersection of the absurd and the mundane... I find there's something rather charming and special to be found in the combination... bringing the fantastic to a relate-able level can often heighten the impact of both sides of it. I think that's why I usually gravitate towards downtime with the Legion when I write them. It probably helped to hook me on that new Vision series too (I should write a review of the latest issues sometime), and much of what I read and enjoy, equine-based or not.

as a bachelor . If that is the case...

Always loved your pics...
And BTW, tomorrow is someone´s big day..what better present than to wish you a "thought" girlfriend ...ummm..that is a story worth reading )

Yo, crossing his fingers to not forger this year the big day (as every other year and preparing his tuxedo for the biig party ;;))

I still wouldn't be surprised to find that Dancer had recollered the original photograph to produce the same image years ago...