The Clock Without A Face

It's true. I don't. I fervently support the fervor among you all, and my favorite fever favors the flavor. Which flavor? The savory flavor of flowery hours. The hourly tower of powerful towels. The towering flour that powers sour waterfowl.

I AM LOSING MY MIND HERE, SLEUTHS! 

I am truly agog at the breadth and depth of your digging. Now please figure out somewhere you haven't dug, and then dig there. I beg ye: tear an emerald from the heart of the greedy earth, before it is too late for us all.

Oh, sweet mother of marshmallow, life can be so cruel. Just when I thought we had turned the corner into a glorious bacon-filled finale, here we are again, stuck in the bacon-less swamp of uncertainty and incompetence.  But!  When a detective falters, that is precisely when an assistant must assist.  And so assist I shall!  The best way I know how: with lists and encouragement.

First, a list.  Here are the spots proposed in our recent roundup:

MO, I-44, 235

AR, I-40, 3

AR, I-40, 36

AR, I-40, 72 // SEARCHED

AR, I-40, 134

AR, I-40, 235 // SEARCHED

UT, I-15, 136

GA, I-75, 118

GA, I-95, 41

NV, I-36, 122

NJ, I-80, 7 // SEARCHED

KS, I-335, 132

KS, I-70, 335

NC, I-40, 136 // SEARCHED

1. Have any of you already checked any of these?  (Other than the ones marked Searched, I mean.)

2. Which of those explanations sounded plausible?  Which resembled the solutions to other floors?

3. Will one of you just please dig up this emerald?!?!?

Now, encouragement: WILL ONE OF YOU PLEASE DIG UP THIS EMERALD?!?!?  Any sleuth who reports on an digging expedition in the next 14 days will receive, in the mail, a hand-drawn marshmallow from yours truly, Augustus Twinting III.  Go to it!

You may recall young Emma, one of the sketchers assisting in the search for the Twelve. 

This drawing (seen in mid-creation, above) ultimately garnered one of the lucky numbers crafted by the amazing Anna Sheffield. The following photo-essay shows the receiving end of said number:

"I looked for it and I found it." —MS

"It's a sea of leaves. If you lose something, you can't find it again. It drops to the bottom." —EB

My mother always told me: When you lose something, you should return to the first place you looked. …Wait, was that how it went? She told me, and I wrote it down on the back of a Mallomar box, but then I lost it. And I didn't know where to find it, because I didn't know what she told me, because I didn't have the box…oh, it was a true paradox! Still, it's reassuring to know that there are still some Mallomars hiding somewhere within this sofa, awaiting my inevitable rediscovery.   

BUT I DIGRESS.

Point is, let's now return to the beginning of this hunt: Floor 12, home of Dr. PK Quello. I interrogated the dastardly doc here with inconclusive results — but perhaps you wiser sleuths can transform this alchemist's inconclusive evasions into conclusive answers. Below, please state your theories, reasonings, and dead ends for this laboratorical floor.

Just two more numbers to recover, and then the Khroniker shall be ours! 

(How did it go? Maybe it was: "If you can't find something, lose it in the first place you looked."  Or maybe: "If you find the last thing you lost, look." I guess that doesn't make a ton of sense. …Ah, sorry to bother you loyal sleuths — I guess this mystery is between me, my mother, and my Mallomars.)

The past thirty-six hours have been a blur of bacon, bacon-bits, and relief.  In case you have not heard: The Space Race has come to our race! A genuine rocket scientist, affiliated with a well-known US government space agency that reserves use of its name to official communications only, burrowed into the heart of Maryland and unearthed the initial digit of the Khroniker — a monastic, elusive One. The herring was erring, the interval was differential, and nine circles were squared. All hail CosmicJay!

Of course, this race is far from over. The Six is still out there, and then its almighty double, the Nile-smoothed Twelve. I have no doubt we will succeed — after this weekend's discovery, I am confident that together we can accomplish anything. Tomorrow the hunt resumes, with another roundup and sleuthhive — but today we celebrate.  Deducer Jay's account follows:

Dear Gus,

I hope you will soon recover some of the weight you have lost in the last, long, two days, 22 hours, and 34 minutes and some interminable seconds.

Click to read more ...

Breaking news!

Emerald 1 unearthed in Maryland by Cosmic Deducer Jay! 

More details coming soon!

But first I have some catching up to do, bacon-wise.

Desperate times call for desperate actions.

Last week's discussion further refined our theories for the Fourth Floor coordinates.  The proposed states are Minnesota, Oregon, Maine, Maryland, Nevada, Arizona, New Hampshire, and maybe Tennessee.  Based on reports in previous comments, apparently Maine, Oregon, and New Hampshire have been thoroughly explored.  What other specific possible locations remain?  Why are we spending time on the internet?  Is there still a sleuth out there bold enough to harvest an emerald from our Earth's earthy earth?   

You may be wondering: Why don't you go harvest, Gus, you fat idiot?  To that I would respond: First, please use constructive criticism — but second, you are absolutely right.  I am shamed and disgusted by my own inactivity.  Problem is, I recently misplaced the key to my basement apartment, and my elderly landlord believes me to be a Soviet infiltrator, and thus if I leave my residence I fear I may never be permitted to return.  However: that is no excuse for doing nothing!  And so I hereby declare a Twintig hunger strike, in support of you tireless sleuths out there.  Yup, you read right: until another number is recovered, I shall eat not a single strip of bacon.  In fact, I hereby foreswear all breakfast meats!  (I might be getting a little carried away here — better wrap this up quick.)

If you are planning an expedition: please expedite your expedition!  If you believe you have determined a location beyond your reach, please list (below) the precise coordinates, along with a brief explanation.  If you live near one of the listed coordinates and would like a chance at glory and jewels, please step up to the plate (the sweet bacony plate…).  

Please do not delay — my spirit is willing, but my flesh is so weak.  (And also hungry.)