Max: Not Just A Mass Of Incandescent Gas
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/30/2006 08:22:00 PM
0 comments
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Max: Terrorists Hate Our Freedom, So Get Rid Of It
Union Leader - Gingrich raises alarm at event honoring those who stand up for freedom of speech - Tuesday, Nov. 28, 2006
Former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich yesterday said the country will be forced to reexamine freedom of speech to meet the threat of terrorism.
Gingrich, speaking at a Manchester awards banquet, said a 'different set of rules' may be needed to reduce terrorists' ability to use the Internet and free speech to recruit and get out their message.
'We need to get ahead of the curve before we actually lose a city, which I think could happen in the next decade,' said Gingrich, a Republican who helped engineer the GOP's takeover of Congress in 1994.
Former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich yesterday said the country will be forced to reexamine freedom of speech to meet the threat of terrorism.
Gingrich, speaking at a Manchester awards banquet, said a 'different set of rules' may be needed to reduce terrorists' ability to use the Internet and free speech to recruit and get out their message.
'We need to get ahead of the curve before we actually lose a city, which I think could happen in the next decade,' said Gingrich, a Republican who helped engineer the GOP's takeover of Congress in 1994.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/28/2006 01:10:00 PM
2 comments
Max: Scott Adams - Nearly Funny Things
The Dilbert Blog: Nearly Funny Things
As a professional humorist, I read the news differently than you do. I’m mining it like the old guy on the beach with a metal detector. You see miles of sand and sea shells and used condoms, but I see a potential windfall of 35 cents in coins plus half an earring. That’s why my life has more meaning than yours. But my point is not to brag. I’m just saying.
The key to finding good humor fodder is that the story must be NEARLY funny without being completely funny on its own. For example, if I see a story about some spatially challenged burglar who got his head stuck in a chimney, and a stork built a nest in his ass, that’s already completely funny. There’s nothing for me to add.
As a professional humorist, I read the news differently than you do. I’m mining it like the old guy on the beach with a metal detector. You see miles of sand and sea shells and used condoms, but I see a potential windfall of 35 cents in coins plus half an earring. That’s why my life has more meaning than yours. But my point is not to brag. I’m just saying.
The key to finding good humor fodder is that the story must be NEARLY funny without being completely funny on its own. For example, if I see a story about some spatially challenged burglar who got his head stuck in a chimney, and a stork built a nest in his ass, that’s already completely funny. There’s nothing for me to add.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/28/2006 10:36:00 AM
0 comments
Monday, November 27, 2006
Jericho: Catching You Up
It's been a fun couple of weeks in the Brown home and in my little life, I have a minute to talk about it, so I thought I'd catch you up.
We have moved. A few months ago, Steph and I decided we had enough of our house. Our plan had been to live in the house for three to five years and at 3.5 years, we had accomplished our goal. When we moved in, we totally settled for our house. We had a very limited budget, and in the Seattle housing market, that meant there were very few houses and they hit the market and vanished like meteors in the night sky. We looked at one house, paid $300 for an inspection, couldn't get the seller to work with us and had to let the deal slip. A few other houses came and went, not worth spending $300 for an inspection. When we came to this house, and I'll take the blame for this, I told Steph that if we keep spending $300 for inspections, we're going to break ourselves and we're never going to buy anything. We wanted to buy a house as an investment, to not keep flushing money down the commode. The house had several major problems, but it also had major potential. We knew at the time that the house had appreciated about 13k a year over the previous four years. We rolled the dice and bought the house.
In the three years we lived there, we put in quite a bit of sweat equity. We did major clean up in the basement and garage, to the tune of 5000 pounds of garbage removed. That's not a typo. The City of Tukwila gives out a yearly dump pass to those who are serious about spring cleaning. We took advantage and rented a moving truck three years in a row. The first and second years, we moved 1600 and 1800 pounds of garbage respectively, garbage left behind by previous owners. Last year we filled a truck with shrubbery clippings from around the property that were out of control when we moved in and were nightmarish by the time we got to them, about 1600 pounds. The first year we were there, we took out a fence that some claimed was lowering property values for the whole neighborhood. There were other projects, but all of them were sweat based.
The house had a ton of infrastructure problems, not to mention tons of proof that some do-it-yourselfers should just call a pro. The house still had it's original galvanized plumbing, a big no-no these days and $5500 bucks to replace. Most of the dry wall in the house had been installed by a DIYer, you could just tell, and that's the problem. The crown molding in the living room was the source of much laughter. They obviously had never heard of a miter saw or know that a miter box can be bought for less than $10. In one spot they simply broke the molding instead of sawing it, I swear!
The bathroom was the biggest problem. For such a tiny room, it was going to be a huge upgrade project. To begin, the galvanized plumbing needed to be removed. The ceramic fixtures were outdated, but serviceable. All of the metal fixtures leaked, the shower fixture was so old and rare that we couldn't have it repaired. Seven different plumbers, including several that worked in a store specializing in hard to find fixtures, couldn't identify the manufacturer. We could have had the fixture replaced, at great cost. The dry wall in the room was just that - ordinary gypsum dry wall. Dry wall needs to remain dry, in a bathroom, one would want to use "greenboard" or concrete backer board. The exhaust fan in the room had stopped working and would have been a major project all by itself. Condensation was forming in the vent for the fan, this rained down on the room constantly and was threatening to bring down the ceiling "wet board". The electrical in the room had been retrofitted over the dry wall and only supported the light fixture - there were no outlets in the room. We figured a $5000 budget to rebuild the bathroom, and that could only happen after the $5500 galvanized upgrade. It being the only bathroom in the house presented other problems during the rebuild.
There were other minor things. The kitchen needed an update, the wiring throughout the house was questionable, the house needed a ton more outlets - we ran an extension cord up through old heating vents from the basement to provide an outlet for our TV and air conditioner in the bedroom. Windows were old and in places needed to be fully replaced. There were other things, too. I told Steph that if we had $30,000, we could have made the place worth 50% more. With $50k, I could have doubled the value on the place. Of course, we would have had to live in a hotel while the place was ripped to the ground and built anew!
Either way, we put the property on the market, priced to sell. And did it ever! Twenty two hours after it was on the market, we had two competing buyers, both offering more money than we were asking. When we talked about selling the house, Steph and I and our real estate agent knew that if we got a buyer who was handy or a young couple willing to invest in a "starter house", we'd get our price. One of our buyers was a contractor buying the house for his daughter as a wedding present, the other buyer was a professional plumber buying the house for he and his wife. Both buyers fulfilled all criteria - we knew we had sold the house! The first buyer ended up passing for personal reasons, the second buyer, the plumber, bought it. The house passed inspection and appraised high enough for the sale price.
After three years of settling, the house is sold at a tidy profit. We got our money Tuesday before Thanksgiving, just a few days after we moved into the apartment. That's right, apartment. Why did we move back into an apartment after struggling so hard and so long? Well, that's just it, it was a struggle, and there are other reasons.
The primary reason is freedom. Apartment living is easy. If something breaks, you call the main office and they fix it. After three years of the broke-ass house, that feels pretty good. The apartment we moved into is about 40 years newer than the house we just moved out of - that has some advantages. The bathrooms don't feel like coffins - there are two bathrooms as compared to the one at the house. For a pair of busy professional adults - that's a big upgrade. There are electrical outlets EVERYWHERE!
Moving into an apartment meant we didn't have to wait until the sale on the house was finalized, we just moved right in as soon as we had one. There was a whole lot of work there. Steph and I looked at a few complexes this summer when we started talking about this move, and the one that caught both of our eyes was the one we wanted most - Chandler's Bay in Kent, WA. When we got serious about the move, Chandler's was full up. Steph went questing for other apartments, she showed me the best ones she found. However, all of them came up short when compared to the one we couldn't have. When the first buyer pulled out, we were devastated. But, I told Steph, the silver lining is that maybe we would get an apartment at Chandler's Bay, maybe someone would move. Steph kept calling them as we looked elsewhere. Finally, someone just picked up and moved without warning the complex. Steph and I left work early to sign paperwork - we got the apartment we wanted! The location is great, too. Kent is growing up fast. We live right next to the new Kent Station mall, we are minutes from the Seattle Sounder commuter train. So, even though we are farther from Seattle, by train, our commute will actually be shorter! It's almost as if it were meant to be.
The best thing about this sale is that we get to fix a bunch of our previous financial mistakes. Steph and I have both had bad histories with our money. We have both been holding onto debt we accrued as 20-somethings. For example, my first Mac was bought on credit, a $7000 computer. You read that correctly, about a year after I bought that monster, PC prices dropped significantly. For what I paid for a 128 MB memory upgrade, $700, you can now buy a full desktop machine. We also bought our next two computers on credit. Plane tickets, moving trucks, the Christmas gifts, etc., etc., etc. all went on credit. Payments began to stack up and it was nearly a full time job keeping track of all our bills. Then, a whole lot of it went to collections. We were hit with Universal Default - a not fun state of affairs I'm hoping to save all of you from - educate yourselves.
This past February, we did something we hadn't done yet. We sat down and talked about our issues. That was a big step for us. Steph had been carrying the burden for bill administration and she needed relief. I was shocked at how far gone we were, but now I know that Universal Default had done far more damage to us than anything we did. We organized our bills, put them in a spread sheet and got to work tackling them. They fell right and left and things were finally back within our control. Steph resumed control and sings the praises of our smarts for building that spread sheet. I wish we had done it sooner, but sometimes you have to hit bottom.
With the profits from our sale, we can cure everything in collections and most of our major debt. The remaining profit, which will be significant, will be placed in a series of CDs and held until we buy our next place. We have already taken action - this past weekend saw several major bills vanish and this week will be the death of nearly everything else. Our spread sheet is nearly solid yellow - which indicates "Paid In Full". In the end, we will have our monthly expenses, our car, our student loans and not much else. In six months to a year, we will acquire a thoroughly researched credit card and begin to rebuild our credit score slowly and carefully. Most likely in two years, we'll move into a condo or townhouse - possibly buy a duplex or triplex - our credit rating will determine most of that. We've fixed our credit in less than a year.
It seems like when we come up with a plan and stick to it, we benefit. The house was a plan we stuck to with a nice pay off. The bills got fixed because we stuck to a plan. Now, our next plan is to invest in 401ks and future property to increase our savings and personal wealth. I think we can pull it off, maybe even retire early?
Of course, there are also plans that fall through. For example, Steph did a ton of work finding an apartment, getting movers and most of the packing. I did a bang up job of getting sick. I took a big nap on Sunday the 12th. I'm not much of a napper, so this meant something - at the time we both figured I was just being lazy, and maybe I was. Steph was disappointed in me for not doing more packing, but I figured we had time. The following Monday, the weather here went goofy, both Steph and I began to suffer from various forms of sinus distress. Being a whiny patient, I was even more useless than usual because my head hurt. Both of us suffered all week. Thursday night, I got over all body aches, then chills, then hot flashes, then more chills, etc., all that night. I took the day off on Friday. Friday night would have been prime packing time, but I was still quite out of it. Saturday, I took some DayQuil, put on my big boy pants and ... well, I managed to stay out of the way. I got some packing done and managed to help friends who came over. For the most part, I was a walking waste of space. Sunday was cleaning day and I did a little better. By Wednesday, I felt better, except my left foot was giving me trouble. I spent the majority of the Thanksgiving break off my feet. When I did get up, I'm gimping around like a three limbed llama. I'm better today, but not by much. Why does Steph put up with me?
Then there's the NaNoWriMo. I never crossed the 10k word mark. With being sick and the move, well, I just didn't get the writing done. Have no fear, "What the Trash Droid Saw" will see a finish. For once, I actually had a start, middle and end for a story. I want to finish it, if nothing else, I want to see how it ends! At 8k words, it's the most words I've ever put to one project. I think I might ship the third or fourth draft around to a few mags to serialize. We'll see. In short, 50k words in 30 days is a tough order, but I'm glad I at least took my shot - we'll do it again next year for sure!
The last few days of this month might be interesting here at IWDC. We are at about 920 MB of throughput for the month. We only get one gig, 1000 MB per month. When we hit 1000 MB, they will shut off the site until December 1st. Max and I have been putting up large amounts of text this month, this entry is no exception. And, we have been updating more frequently. We did have Blogger set to show 30 days of entries. I have set it for 10 days. With our frequent, large posts of late, I don't want to lose the site come mid-December. So, sorry for the fewer posts on the front page, but you will get more new stuff from us.
That should about catch you up to me. I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving, and if I don't see you, happy end of the month!
We have moved. A few months ago, Steph and I decided we had enough of our house. Our plan had been to live in the house for three to five years and at 3.5 years, we had accomplished our goal. When we moved in, we totally settled for our house. We had a very limited budget, and in the Seattle housing market, that meant there were very few houses and they hit the market and vanished like meteors in the night sky. We looked at one house, paid $300 for an inspection, couldn't get the seller to work with us and had to let the deal slip. A few other houses came and went, not worth spending $300 for an inspection. When we came to this house, and I'll take the blame for this, I told Steph that if we keep spending $300 for inspections, we're going to break ourselves and we're never going to buy anything. We wanted to buy a house as an investment, to not keep flushing money down the commode. The house had several major problems, but it also had major potential. We knew at the time that the house had appreciated about 13k a year over the previous four years. We rolled the dice and bought the house.
In the three years we lived there, we put in quite a bit of sweat equity. We did major clean up in the basement and garage, to the tune of 5000 pounds of garbage removed. That's not a typo. The City of Tukwila gives out a yearly dump pass to those who are serious about spring cleaning. We took advantage and rented a moving truck three years in a row. The first and second years, we moved 1600 and 1800 pounds of garbage respectively, garbage left behind by previous owners. Last year we filled a truck with shrubbery clippings from around the property that were out of control when we moved in and were nightmarish by the time we got to them, about 1600 pounds. The first year we were there, we took out a fence that some claimed was lowering property values for the whole neighborhood. There were other projects, but all of them were sweat based.
The house had a ton of infrastructure problems, not to mention tons of proof that some do-it-yourselfers should just call a pro. The house still had it's original galvanized plumbing, a big no-no these days and $5500 bucks to replace. Most of the dry wall in the house had been installed by a DIYer, you could just tell, and that's the problem. The crown molding in the living room was the source of much laughter. They obviously had never heard of a miter saw or know that a miter box can be bought for less than $10. In one spot they simply broke the molding instead of sawing it, I swear!
The bathroom was the biggest problem. For such a tiny room, it was going to be a huge upgrade project. To begin, the galvanized plumbing needed to be removed. The ceramic fixtures were outdated, but serviceable. All of the metal fixtures leaked, the shower fixture was so old and rare that we couldn't have it repaired. Seven different plumbers, including several that worked in a store specializing in hard to find fixtures, couldn't identify the manufacturer. We could have had the fixture replaced, at great cost. The dry wall in the room was just that - ordinary gypsum dry wall. Dry wall needs to remain dry, in a bathroom, one would want to use "greenboard" or concrete backer board. The exhaust fan in the room had stopped working and would have been a major project all by itself. Condensation was forming in the vent for the fan, this rained down on the room constantly and was threatening to bring down the ceiling "wet board". The electrical in the room had been retrofitted over the dry wall and only supported the light fixture - there were no outlets in the room. We figured a $5000 budget to rebuild the bathroom, and that could only happen after the $5500 galvanized upgrade. It being the only bathroom in the house presented other problems during the rebuild.
There were other minor things. The kitchen needed an update, the wiring throughout the house was questionable, the house needed a ton more outlets - we ran an extension cord up through old heating vents from the basement to provide an outlet for our TV and air conditioner in the bedroom. Windows were old and in places needed to be fully replaced. There were other things, too. I told Steph that if we had $30,000, we could have made the place worth 50% more. With $50k, I could have doubled the value on the place. Of course, we would have had to live in a hotel while the place was ripped to the ground and built anew!
Either way, we put the property on the market, priced to sell. And did it ever! Twenty two hours after it was on the market, we had two competing buyers, both offering more money than we were asking. When we talked about selling the house, Steph and I and our real estate agent knew that if we got a buyer who was handy or a young couple willing to invest in a "starter house", we'd get our price. One of our buyers was a contractor buying the house for his daughter as a wedding present, the other buyer was a professional plumber buying the house for he and his wife. Both buyers fulfilled all criteria - we knew we had sold the house! The first buyer ended up passing for personal reasons, the second buyer, the plumber, bought it. The house passed inspection and appraised high enough for the sale price.
After three years of settling, the house is sold at a tidy profit. We got our money Tuesday before Thanksgiving, just a few days after we moved into the apartment. That's right, apartment. Why did we move back into an apartment after struggling so hard and so long? Well, that's just it, it was a struggle, and there are other reasons.
The primary reason is freedom. Apartment living is easy. If something breaks, you call the main office and they fix it. After three years of the broke-ass house, that feels pretty good. The apartment we moved into is about 40 years newer than the house we just moved out of - that has some advantages. The bathrooms don't feel like coffins - there are two bathrooms as compared to the one at the house. For a pair of busy professional adults - that's a big upgrade. There are electrical outlets EVERYWHERE!
Moving into an apartment meant we didn't have to wait until the sale on the house was finalized, we just moved right in as soon as we had one. There was a whole lot of work there. Steph and I looked at a few complexes this summer when we started talking about this move, and the one that caught both of our eyes was the one we wanted most - Chandler's Bay in Kent, WA. When we got serious about the move, Chandler's was full up. Steph went questing for other apartments, she showed me the best ones she found. However, all of them came up short when compared to the one we couldn't have. When the first buyer pulled out, we were devastated. But, I told Steph, the silver lining is that maybe we would get an apartment at Chandler's Bay, maybe someone would move. Steph kept calling them as we looked elsewhere. Finally, someone just picked up and moved without warning the complex. Steph and I left work early to sign paperwork - we got the apartment we wanted! The location is great, too. Kent is growing up fast. We live right next to the new Kent Station mall, we are minutes from the Seattle Sounder commuter train. So, even though we are farther from Seattle, by train, our commute will actually be shorter! It's almost as if it were meant to be.
The best thing about this sale is that we get to fix a bunch of our previous financial mistakes. Steph and I have both had bad histories with our money. We have both been holding onto debt we accrued as 20-somethings. For example, my first Mac was bought on credit, a $7000 computer. You read that correctly, about a year after I bought that monster, PC prices dropped significantly. For what I paid for a 128 MB memory upgrade, $700, you can now buy a full desktop machine. We also bought our next two computers on credit. Plane tickets, moving trucks, the Christmas gifts, etc., etc., etc. all went on credit. Payments began to stack up and it was nearly a full time job keeping track of all our bills. Then, a whole lot of it went to collections. We were hit with Universal Default - a not fun state of affairs I'm hoping to save all of you from - educate yourselves.
This past February, we did something we hadn't done yet. We sat down and talked about our issues. That was a big step for us. Steph had been carrying the burden for bill administration and she needed relief. I was shocked at how far gone we were, but now I know that Universal Default had done far more damage to us than anything we did. We organized our bills, put them in a spread sheet and got to work tackling them. They fell right and left and things were finally back within our control. Steph resumed control and sings the praises of our smarts for building that spread sheet. I wish we had done it sooner, but sometimes you have to hit bottom.
With the profits from our sale, we can cure everything in collections and most of our major debt. The remaining profit, which will be significant, will be placed in a series of CDs and held until we buy our next place. We have already taken action - this past weekend saw several major bills vanish and this week will be the death of nearly everything else. Our spread sheet is nearly solid yellow - which indicates "Paid In Full". In the end, we will have our monthly expenses, our car, our student loans and not much else. In six months to a year, we will acquire a thoroughly researched credit card and begin to rebuild our credit score slowly and carefully. Most likely in two years, we'll move into a condo or townhouse - possibly buy a duplex or triplex - our credit rating will determine most of that. We've fixed our credit in less than a year.
It seems like when we come up with a plan and stick to it, we benefit. The house was a plan we stuck to with a nice pay off. The bills got fixed because we stuck to a plan. Now, our next plan is to invest in 401ks and future property to increase our savings and personal wealth. I think we can pull it off, maybe even retire early?
Of course, there are also plans that fall through. For example, Steph did a ton of work finding an apartment, getting movers and most of the packing. I did a bang up job of getting sick. I took a big nap on Sunday the 12th. I'm not much of a napper, so this meant something - at the time we both figured I was just being lazy, and maybe I was. Steph was disappointed in me for not doing more packing, but I figured we had time. The following Monday, the weather here went goofy, both Steph and I began to suffer from various forms of sinus distress. Being a whiny patient, I was even more useless than usual because my head hurt. Both of us suffered all week. Thursday night, I got over all body aches, then chills, then hot flashes, then more chills, etc., all that night. I took the day off on Friday. Friday night would have been prime packing time, but I was still quite out of it. Saturday, I took some DayQuil, put on my big boy pants and ... well, I managed to stay out of the way. I got some packing done and managed to help friends who came over. For the most part, I was a walking waste of space. Sunday was cleaning day and I did a little better. By Wednesday, I felt better, except my left foot was giving me trouble. I spent the majority of the Thanksgiving break off my feet. When I did get up, I'm gimping around like a three limbed llama. I'm better today, but not by much. Why does Steph put up with me?
Then there's the NaNoWriMo. I never crossed the 10k word mark. With being sick and the move, well, I just didn't get the writing done. Have no fear, "What the Trash Droid Saw" will see a finish. For once, I actually had a start, middle and end for a story. I want to finish it, if nothing else, I want to see how it ends! At 8k words, it's the most words I've ever put to one project. I think I might ship the third or fourth draft around to a few mags to serialize. We'll see. In short, 50k words in 30 days is a tough order, but I'm glad I at least took my shot - we'll do it again next year for sure!
The last few days of this month might be interesting here at IWDC. We are at about 920 MB of throughput for the month. We only get one gig, 1000 MB per month. When we hit 1000 MB, they will shut off the site until December 1st. Max and I have been putting up large amounts of text this month, this entry is no exception. And, we have been updating more frequently. We did have Blogger set to show 30 days of entries. I have set it for 10 days. With our frequent, large posts of late, I don't want to lose the site come mid-December. So, sorry for the fewer posts on the front page, but you will get more new stuff from us.
That should about catch you up to me. I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving, and if I don't see you, happy end of the month!
posted by Jericho Brown at 11/27/2006 05:12:00 PM
2 comments
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Max: Marines under too much strain - CNN.com
Top Marine: Troops under too much strain - CNN.com:
"The new Marine Corps commandant said Wednesday that the longer than anticipated pace of operations in Iraq and Afghanistan is putting an unacceptable strain on his troops.
Gen. James Conway said the service is unable to meet its goal of giving Marines twice as much time at home as in a war zone.
He said unless the demand on the corps eases, he may have to propose increasing the size of the force."
A good rule of thumb would be, don't make the Marines tense.
"The new Marine Corps commandant said Wednesday that the longer than anticipated pace of operations in Iraq and Afghanistan is putting an unacceptable strain on his troops.
Gen. James Conway said the service is unable to meet its goal of giving Marines twice as much time at home as in a war zone.
He said unless the demand on the corps eases, he may have to propose increasing the size of the force."
A good rule of thumb would be, don't make the Marines tense.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/22/2006 08:43:00 PM
0 comments
Monday, November 20, 2006
Max: Not Dead Yet
Not a CCNA either. I blew it yet again.
I'm leaning towards trying again. Laura thinks I should take the hint and concentrate on A+ another Comptia cert.
Either way, I'm okay. I'll figure something out.
I'm leaning towards trying again. Laura thinks I should take the hint and concentrate on A+ another Comptia cert.
Either way, I'm okay. I'll figure something out.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/20/2006 02:38:00 PM
0 comments
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Max: Blog Silence
For those who care, I am going to be spending the next 5 days cramming for my CCNA test. That means I won't be posting here or adding to LALG until let Monday or Tuesday.
As always, I can be reached by email.
As always, I can be reached by email.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/15/2006 01:20:00 PM
5 comments
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Max: Life At Low G, part 7
Or read the whole thing (so far) here.
The next morning we woke up in our apartment. Cassie was in bed with us. Andy poked her in the side. She grunted and rolled over.
"She's not armed," I observed.
"Which means we are probably being watched. Are you sure they didn't bug your comp."
"Certain. Besides, a bug would send out information which could be picked up by our target once we're on site. That's pretty basic."
"Basic for freaks like you."
"This is is hardly the time to be flirting."
"Yeah. They might figure out that you're gay."
Cassie rolled back over and looked up at us.
"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked.
"How did we get here?" Andy returned.
"You were drugged and brought here," she replied as she had been asked the single most stupid question she had ever heard.
"You have to admit, Andy, that was pretty obvious," I added.
Andy didn't seem to care for that at all.
"Fine, if we aren't going to sleep, I'm going to take a shower. Be dears and make breakfast." Cassie up and headed for the bathroom. You would think that she lived here and that we did this every day. I couldn't think of anything better to do, so I headed to the kitchen and started to make pancakes. Andy followed me. He had his I'm thinking look on his face.
After a few minutes, Cassie came out. She was naked except for the towel she had wrapped around her head. She helped herself a plate of pancakes and sat down to eat.
"Are we going to get any more details about this 'job'?" Andy asked.
"Calm down, would you. We have a couple of days before we get sent the mission profile. You've been trough a lot and are about to go through a lot more. Relax while you can."
"I can't help but notice you don't seem to be armed." Andy said.
"Are you sure I'm not hiding any weapons?" she turned to him and spread her legs. She smiled as Andy made sure.
"See, we are not enemies. We are friends. I am not going to hurt either of you."
"What if we kill you and skip town?" Andy asked.
"Well, you will ruin what could be a couple of very fun days and our employer will find you and kill you. But I would not be sitting here unarmed and you would not have gotten to enjoy making sure I am unarmed if there was any chance that you would hurt me."
She finished her plate of pancakes and got up.
"I am heading to the bedroom. If either can think of something more interesting we can do than sleeping, let me know."
"You wouldn't actually kill her would you?" I asked.
"No."
"But she would kill us."
"I don't think so."
"Because she let you feel her up?"
"In part, yes. Also she is unarmed. She knows that we know we are stuck."
"Are we?"
Andy didn't answer that.
"What do we do now?" I asked.
"We enjoy our days off."
He too headed for the bedroom. I followed.
The next couple of days passed much like our time on Leibniz. Except we had gravity all the time. And instead of breaking for work, we only broke for food or to watch a vid. We didn't even mention the fact that we were as good as her captives and that she would soon be sending us on a job with a so-far undisclosed target and so-far undisclosed risks.
In fact, I almost had myself convinced that we would never be sent the mission. That somehow Cassie had made our little duo a trio and that she was going to get a job at a local University and Andy and I would be back to taking whatever jobs came our way. It was only when I was by myself, which was thankfully rare, that I couldn't fool myself. My stomach would drop as I realize yet again the situation Andy and I were in was not the situation we were currently pretending to be in with Cassie. I would panic for a moment wondering what to do. Then to drive the thoughts out of my head, I would run and tackle Andy and blow him while Cassie watched gleefully, or tickle Cassie until she begged for mercy then begged me to fuck her.
Between the mood swings and the surreal position I was in, I was feeling almost as disoriented as I did on Leibniz.
The next morning we woke up in our apartment. Cassie was in bed with us. Andy poked her in the side. She grunted and rolled over.
"She's not armed," I observed.
"Which means we are probably being watched. Are you sure they didn't bug your comp."
"Certain. Besides, a bug would send out information which could be picked up by our target once we're on site. That's pretty basic."
"Basic for freaks like you."
"This is is hardly the time to be flirting."
"Yeah. They might figure out that you're gay."
Cassie rolled back over and looked up at us.
"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked.
"How did we get here?" Andy returned.
"You were drugged and brought here," she replied as she had been asked the single most stupid question she had ever heard.
"You have to admit, Andy, that was pretty obvious," I added.
Andy didn't seem to care for that at all.
"Fine, if we aren't going to sleep, I'm going to take a shower. Be dears and make breakfast." Cassie up and headed for the bathroom. You would think that she lived here and that we did this every day. I couldn't think of anything better to do, so I headed to the kitchen and started to make pancakes. Andy followed me. He had his I'm thinking look on his face.
After a few minutes, Cassie came out. She was naked except for the towel she had wrapped around her head. She helped herself a plate of pancakes and sat down to eat.
"Are we going to get any more details about this 'job'?" Andy asked.
"Calm down, would you. We have a couple of days before we get sent the mission profile. You've been trough a lot and are about to go through a lot more. Relax while you can."
"I can't help but notice you don't seem to be armed." Andy said.
"Are you sure I'm not hiding any weapons?" she turned to him and spread her legs. She smiled as Andy made sure.
"See, we are not enemies. We are friends. I am not going to hurt either of you."
"What if we kill you and skip town?" Andy asked.
"Well, you will ruin what could be a couple of very fun days and our employer will find you and kill you. But I would not be sitting here unarmed and you would not have gotten to enjoy making sure I am unarmed if there was any chance that you would hurt me."
She finished her plate of pancakes and got up.
"I am heading to the bedroom. If either can think of something more interesting we can do than sleeping, let me know."
"You wouldn't actually kill her would you?" I asked.
"No."
"But she would kill us."
"I don't think so."
"Because she let you feel her up?"
"In part, yes. Also she is unarmed. She knows that we know we are stuck."
"Are we?"
Andy didn't answer that.
"What do we do now?" I asked.
"We enjoy our days off."
He too headed for the bedroom. I followed.
The next couple of days passed much like our time on Leibniz. Except we had gravity all the time. And instead of breaking for work, we only broke for food or to watch a vid. We didn't even mention the fact that we were as good as her captives and that she would soon be sending us on a job with a so-far undisclosed target and so-far undisclosed risks.
In fact, I almost had myself convinced that we would never be sent the mission. That somehow Cassie had made our little duo a trio and that she was going to get a job at a local University and Andy and I would be back to taking whatever jobs came our way. It was only when I was by myself, which was thankfully rare, that I couldn't fool myself. My stomach would drop as I realize yet again the situation Andy and I were in was not the situation we were currently pretending to be in with Cassie. I would panic for a moment wondering what to do. Then to drive the thoughts out of my head, I would run and tackle Andy and blow him while Cassie watched gleefully, or tickle Cassie until she begged for mercy then begged me to fuck her.
Between the mood swings and the surreal position I was in, I was feeling almost as disoriented as I did on Leibniz.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/14/2006 01:56:00 PM
2 comments
Jericho: Toy Jesus
These asstards give all christians a bad name.
Next, they'll be trying to pawn off dolls that teach Intelligent Design!
Everytime I see something like this, I just want to throw John 2:14-16 at them - Christ would have kicked their asses!
Next, they'll be trying to pawn off dolls that teach Intelligent Design!
Everytime I see something like this, I just want to throw John 2:14-16 at them - Christ would have kicked their asses!
posted by Jericho Brown at 11/14/2006 11:55:00 AM
1 comments
Max: eMusic
It's that simple. Get 25 free - as is no money, no DRM, - legal MP3's, yours to keep forever. You benefit, we benefit. If you like the service, even the cheap plan is an amazing bargain compared to iTunes and other music stores. If you don't like it, you get to keep your 25 free MP3's and we still get a kick-back.
I love it when everybody wins.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/14/2006 09:08:00 AM
0 comments
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Max: Life At Low G, part 6
Or read the whole thing (so far) here.
The lights finally came back on.
"I believe," the voice said, "that we should be in agreement at this point."
"Yeah, sure," Andy replied.
"Good. Go get cleaned up."
With a clack the door opened slightly. The hall outside was almost pitch black. The only light was from the room we were in and a room across the hall.
"You will find personal facilities, beds and clothing in the guest room," the voice explained.
We went into the room across the hall. I was not surprised when the door shut and magnetic locks clacked into place.
"So what now?" I asked.
"I am going to take a shower. Feel free to join me."
When we got out of the shower, there were three additions to the room. Sitting on the table were my comp and some food. I was so excited about the first two items that I didn't notice the third until Andy said
"Cassie?"
There she was, sitting at the table, looking as hot as ever.
"What the hell?"
"Hi, guys."
As usual, Andy managed to spot the obvious before me.
"You seem to be looking rather happy and spry for a hostage."
"I'm not a hostage and neither are you. Hostages are held for ransom. You are being held for your skills"
"What are you being held for?" I asked, ever slow on the uptake.
"Don't be a dumbass," Andy said to me.
"You may think of me as your recruiter," Cassie explained.
"You do this a lot, then?"
"Recruit?" she asked in reply.
"Fuck people then fuck them over."
"Fuck them over, yes. Fuck them, only when the mood strikes. Look, I know what you must be thinking right now..."
"Then why aren't you running?" Andy interrupted.
"If it makes you feel better, I didn't exactly lie to you," she continued. "I do have a degree in history. I was on the Leibniz on Daddy's cred. In fact, that is whom you are working for."
"Daddy whore you out a lot?" Andy must have been pissed off. He's been more diplomatic with people he was ready to kill. Me, I was lost.
"Look," she said to me. "Here is your comp. Exactly as you left it. We did a thorough inventory but did not change a setting."
I guess it says something about me that after all the shit we were in, I actually felt relieved grabbing my comp and checking it over. She was right. Not a setting was changed.
"So," Andy seemed to regain his composure. "What is the job?"
"Something you are both expert at. Penetration."
Andy stared at her for a second. "Are slaves or actors in a cheap porn movie?"
"That's a shame," she replied. "One of the things I liked about you was your sense of humor. That and your cock. And your boyfriends cock. And..."
"We are going to be penetrating one of Daddy's rivals, then?" Andy asked.
"Yes." She actually seemed hurt that Andy was not joining in with her ribaldry.
"Give me the parameters and point me to a hookup," I said, trying to sound as composed as Andy.
"One of the parameters is that you won't be able to get in via any old connection.
It was my turn to have hurt feelings. "I can penetrate anything that is hooked up."
"I know, my sweet," she replied soothingly. "But this place is not typical. Paranoid. "They don't have any external hookups."
It took me a moment to process this. "How am I supposed to get in?"
"By getting in," she replied.
I hated to sound stupid, but "Huh?" was all I could manage at that point.
"Physical penetration," Andy said.
"Now who's making the double entendres?"
"Fuck you," was Andy's reply. Cassie just smiled.
"Physical penetration?" I asked.
"It would seem," Andy explained, "that we are meant to actually go on site, to our target's location and do the pen there."
"That sounds stupid and dangerous," I said.
"And fun. Get ready. Eat, get some sleep," Cassie said while getting up. "We leave in the morning."
With that she was out of the door. It clacked behind her. I then realized that it had not clacked before se opened it.
"She was playing with us," I said to Andy.
"Yeah. She was. Eat something."
The lights finally came back on.
"I believe," the voice said, "that we should be in agreement at this point."
"Yeah, sure," Andy replied.
"Good. Go get cleaned up."
With a clack the door opened slightly. The hall outside was almost pitch black. The only light was from the room we were in and a room across the hall.
"You will find personal facilities, beds and clothing in the guest room," the voice explained.
We went into the room across the hall. I was not surprised when the door shut and magnetic locks clacked into place.
"So what now?" I asked.
"I am going to take a shower. Feel free to join me."
When we got out of the shower, there were three additions to the room. Sitting on the table were my comp and some food. I was so excited about the first two items that I didn't notice the third until Andy said
"Cassie?"
There she was, sitting at the table, looking as hot as ever.
"What the hell?"
"Hi, guys."
As usual, Andy managed to spot the obvious before me.
"You seem to be looking rather happy and spry for a hostage."
"I'm not a hostage and neither are you. Hostages are held for ransom. You are being held for your skills"
"What are you being held for?" I asked, ever slow on the uptake.
"Don't be a dumbass," Andy said to me.
"You may think of me as your recruiter," Cassie explained.
"You do this a lot, then?"
"Recruit?" she asked in reply.
"Fuck people then fuck them over."
"Fuck them over, yes. Fuck them, only when the mood strikes. Look, I know what you must be thinking right now..."
"Then why aren't you running?" Andy interrupted.
"If it makes you feel better, I didn't exactly lie to you," she continued. "I do have a degree in history. I was on the Leibniz on Daddy's cred. In fact, that is whom you are working for."
"Daddy whore you out a lot?" Andy must have been pissed off. He's been more diplomatic with people he was ready to kill. Me, I was lost.
"Look," she said to me. "Here is your comp. Exactly as you left it. We did a thorough inventory but did not change a setting."
I guess it says something about me that after all the shit we were in, I actually felt relieved grabbing my comp and checking it over. She was right. Not a setting was changed.
"So," Andy seemed to regain his composure. "What is the job?"
"Something you are both expert at. Penetration."
Andy stared at her for a second. "Are slaves or actors in a cheap porn movie?"
"That's a shame," she replied. "One of the things I liked about you was your sense of humor. That and your cock. And your boyfriends cock. And..."
"We are going to be penetrating one of Daddy's rivals, then?" Andy asked.
"Yes." She actually seemed hurt that Andy was not joining in with her ribaldry.
"Give me the parameters and point me to a hookup," I said, trying to sound as composed as Andy.
"One of the parameters is that you won't be able to get in via any old connection.
It was my turn to have hurt feelings. "I can penetrate anything that is hooked up."
"I know, my sweet," she replied soothingly. "But this place is not typical. Paranoid. "They don't have any external hookups."
It took me a moment to process this. "How am I supposed to get in?"
"By getting in," she replied.
I hated to sound stupid, but "Huh?" was all I could manage at that point.
"Physical penetration," Andy said.
"Now who's making the double entendres?"
"Fuck you," was Andy's reply. Cassie just smiled.
"Physical penetration?" I asked.
"It would seem," Andy explained, "that we are meant to actually go on site, to our target's location and do the pen there."
"That sounds stupid and dangerous," I said.
"And fun. Get ready. Eat, get some sleep," Cassie said while getting up. "We leave in the morning."
With that she was out of the door. It clacked behind her. I then realized that it had not clacked before se opened it.
"She was playing with us," I said to Andy.
"Yeah. She was. Eat something."
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/12/2006 02:36:00 PM
2 comments
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Jericho: Droids in Space part Five
YZ-6771 turned and headed toward the room with the recharge socket to await further instructions. His new vision was incredible compared to his his previous sensor. This was an expensive upgrade! He accessed the manufacturer and the refirb information stored on the device. The original manufacturers information had been deleted, typical for small refirb units. And, sure enough, the refirb unit was not a unit at all. A Treanian droid tech by the name of Dria had refirbished this unit. He was known to YZ-6771, Treanians were adept with technology, and Dria was something of an artist. A previous member of YZ-6771's trash crew had been given a personality unit modified by Dria - she now works for the Industria government in one of the higher administration levels. Or, at least she had before the pirates invaded. She might be anywhere now. YZ-6771 would not have gotten an upgrade like this in ordinary circumstances. But, the repair droids thought it was just another replacement part.
The doors slid open on the small hold with the recharge socket - the room's only feature. YZ-6771 connected to the charger and sat down next to it. He ran a full diagnostic on his intelligence modules and found no conflicts or errors. He selected the Mark VIII personality module and activated it. The module went through a self test, then ran a diagnotic on itself. Next it ran a discovery ping on all the intelligence modules. Next, it informed YZ-6771 that an AthenaTech Mark VIII personality simulation module "The best personality sim in this price range!" - had been installed in his intelligence upgrade slot, and that an initiation sequence was about to run. YZ-6771 merely nodded, he already knew this. Sentients sometimes seemed to feel that if you told someone something they already knew, they would get the impression that they were being better served! YZ-6771 marveled at himself for having this thought.
Next, the module asked YZ-6771 to name himself. The module informed YZ-6771 that a name aided in the illusion of intelligence with sentients. The module also informed him that the default was already set as Yankee Zulu. Yankee Zulu? YZ-6771 had always been trained to go with the default settings on new installs. The module set the name and moved on. The module presented a list of likely nick names; Yank, Zu and Lu, it requested Yankee Zulu to select his nick name. There was no default. This was his first choice as a simulated sentient. The first one on the list seemed most likely to be used, Yankee Zulu selected Yank as his new nick name.
Suddenly, YZ-6771 had access to several new files on the module. All of the new files were associated with his names. A list of standard greetings in several languages, a file of likely nick names beyond those he was given to choose from and greetings presenting his chosen nick name or any other nick name he chose to replace it. He was given an easy explaination for his name for the curious:
"My designation is YZ-6771. The phonetic alphabet uses the word Yankee to represent the letter 'Y' and Zulu to represent 'Z'."
Other files, incuding jokes about his name and parodies of it, were present. The module went on setting more parameters. Yank was asked about his preferred speech patterns, intonation, even accent. He simply accepted the defaults, noting he could go back and change these later.
Next, the intelligence simulation module asked Yank to set several personality patterns. Did he want to appear scholorly? Did he want to appear to be intimidating? Did he want to appear tough? Yank decided to accept the midline parameters on all of these just for the moment. He had never had an intelligence module before, so he wasn't sure what was proper.
The module continued to ask Yank for parameters for the next twenty minutes. When the question phase was completed, the module again ran a selt test and a diagnostic to detect errors or conflicts. When all was done, the module said aloud to Yank "Good luck and good fortune! Thank you for choosing AthenaTech!"
Yank sat for a second. He was, he was quite sure, feeling happy. It was probably a preset program in the intelligence module, but it still felt good. And, it was the first time - realising that this was his first identifyable emotion simply made him even happier. On a cloud of fresh, simulated emotion, Yankee Zulu stood and retracted his recharge cable from the socket. He was still by himself and he might have a lot of time to kill before anyone came to find him. He decided to try out all his new upgrades.
Since he had a full charge, he tried the shield generator. It crackled to life, surrounding him with a semi-transparent orange bubble of charged particles. He could out stretch his new arms and just barely touch the charged field. Yank had no way to test the effectiveness of the shield. The documentation said it would stop most mass, kinetic or energy based small arms fire. He could however see that his internal power was dropping very quickly. In five short seconds, he was down to a quarter of his previous full charge. He would have to be careful of using this defense.
Speaking of defense, Yank activated the self defense skillbase. He discovered that the skillbase allowed him to pick from three different hand to hand fighting styles. One consisted of throws, trips and grappling manuvers to disabling, disarming and holding an opponent. The second was a harder, brawling style, a good mixture of offense and defense. The last was a precise and deadly form that allowed for painful disarming, highly painful strikes and quick kills. Yank tried a few moves from each style there in the lonely hold, his metal and plastic feet clicking and clanging on the metal deck plates. For the last set of moves, he deployed his new integrated arm blades. These moves with those blades would prove quick, quiet and deadly. Yank felt a new emotion; fear. Fear of his own power to end the service of others. To end their lives.
Yank extended his recharge cable. He plugged back in and sat down. He had many new thoughts to think. He slipped into power conserve mode and had a long think with his new intelligence module.
The doors slid open on the small hold with the recharge socket - the room's only feature. YZ-6771 connected to the charger and sat down next to it. He ran a full diagnostic on his intelligence modules and found no conflicts or errors. He selected the Mark VIII personality module and activated it. The module went through a self test, then ran a diagnotic on itself. Next it ran a discovery ping on all the intelligence modules. Next, it informed YZ-6771 that an AthenaTech Mark VIII personality simulation module "The best personality sim in this price range!" - had been installed in his intelligence upgrade slot, and that an initiation sequence was about to run. YZ-6771 merely nodded, he already knew this. Sentients sometimes seemed to feel that if you told someone something they already knew, they would get the impression that they were being better served! YZ-6771 marveled at himself for having this thought.
Next, the module asked YZ-6771 to name himself. The module informed YZ-6771 that a name aided in the illusion of intelligence with sentients. The module also informed him that the default was already set as Yankee Zulu. Yankee Zulu? YZ-6771 had always been trained to go with the default settings on new installs. The module set the name and moved on. The module presented a list of likely nick names; Yank, Zu and Lu, it requested Yankee Zulu to select his nick name. There was no default. This was his first choice as a simulated sentient. The first one on the list seemed most likely to be used, Yankee Zulu selected Yank as his new nick name.
Suddenly, YZ-6771 had access to several new files on the module. All of the new files were associated with his names. A list of standard greetings in several languages, a file of likely nick names beyond those he was given to choose from and greetings presenting his chosen nick name or any other nick name he chose to replace it. He was given an easy explaination for his name for the curious:
"My designation is YZ-6771. The phonetic alphabet uses the word Yankee to represent the letter 'Y' and Zulu to represent 'Z'."
Other files, incuding jokes about his name and parodies of it, were present. The module went on setting more parameters. Yank was asked about his preferred speech patterns, intonation, even accent. He simply accepted the defaults, noting he could go back and change these later.
Next, the intelligence simulation module asked Yank to set several personality patterns. Did he want to appear scholorly? Did he want to appear to be intimidating? Did he want to appear tough? Yank decided to accept the midline parameters on all of these just for the moment. He had never had an intelligence module before, so he wasn't sure what was proper.
The module continued to ask Yank for parameters for the next twenty minutes. When the question phase was completed, the module again ran a selt test and a diagnostic to detect errors or conflicts. When all was done, the module said aloud to Yank "Good luck and good fortune! Thank you for choosing AthenaTech!"
Yank sat for a second. He was, he was quite sure, feeling happy. It was probably a preset program in the intelligence module, but it still felt good. And, it was the first time - realising that this was his first identifyable emotion simply made him even happier. On a cloud of fresh, simulated emotion, Yankee Zulu stood and retracted his recharge cable from the socket. He was still by himself and he might have a lot of time to kill before anyone came to find him. He decided to try out all his new upgrades.
Since he had a full charge, he tried the shield generator. It crackled to life, surrounding him with a semi-transparent orange bubble of charged particles. He could out stretch his new arms and just barely touch the charged field. Yank had no way to test the effectiveness of the shield. The documentation said it would stop most mass, kinetic or energy based small arms fire. He could however see that his internal power was dropping very quickly. In five short seconds, he was down to a quarter of his previous full charge. He would have to be careful of using this defense.
Speaking of defense, Yank activated the self defense skillbase. He discovered that the skillbase allowed him to pick from three different hand to hand fighting styles. One consisted of throws, trips and grappling manuvers to disabling, disarming and holding an opponent. The second was a harder, brawling style, a good mixture of offense and defense. The last was a precise and deadly form that allowed for painful disarming, highly painful strikes and quick kills. Yank tried a few moves from each style there in the lonely hold, his metal and plastic feet clicking and clanging on the metal deck plates. For the last set of moves, he deployed his new integrated arm blades. These moves with those blades would prove quick, quiet and deadly. Yank felt a new emotion; fear. Fear of his own power to end the service of others. To end their lives.
Yank extended his recharge cable. He plugged back in and sat down. He had many new thoughts to think. He slipped into power conserve mode and had a long think with his new intelligence module.
posted by Jericho Brown at 11/11/2006 05:53:00 PM
2 comments
Max: Robot Humor
McSweeney's Internet Tendency: Jokes Made by Robots, for Robots.
"Little Susie tosses a clock out the window. A robot inquires, 'Why did you do that?' She replies, 'I wanted to see time fly!' The robot says, 'Ah ... A perfect subject for elimination,' and shoots her with a laser beam through the face."
"Little Susie tosses a clock out the window. A robot inquires, 'Why did you do that?' She replies, 'I wanted to see time fly!' The robot says, 'Ah ... A perfect subject for elimination,' and shoots her with a laser beam through the face."
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/11/2006 04:40:00 PM
0 comments
Friday, November 10, 2006
Max: Life At Low G, part 5
Or read the whole thing (so far) here.
People are so paranoid. They used to be satisfied with low-grade security, or spoof that made their connections look almost like traps. I started tagging connections that were locked down but still vulnerable. I would prefer to not have to break through connection security as well as the target's security. The less time you spent on a job, the less likely you were to get caught. After a few hours, though, it was starting to look like we were going to have to used someone's secured connection. The only open connections were traps and we had to get the job done.
I set up every spoof I could on my comp to cover our tracks. If there is a comp out there with a footprint that looked like our spoof, that was their problem. It took 30 seconds to break the security on the connection. Ideally the job should have been done in under 30. It was a minute and a half total before I was in and copying files that matched the params giving to us by the client.
The next thing I knew I was coming to in some strange room. It took me a moment to start getting my bearings. Andy was on the floor, breathing but unconscious. We had been snagged. That meant that we were fucked. All there was to do was find out who snagged us and how they were going to make us pay.
"Ah. You are awake," a disembodied voice came from just above the door. "You process sedatives faster than your boyfriend. Faster than the average. That is a useful skill."
"Where are we? What the fuck is going on?"
"You are also inquisitive. You can't bear to not be in on a secret. That can serve you well, but it can also get you locked up in a room."
I looked around for my comp, pretty much figuring I wouldn't find it.
"Our comp is quite safe..."
"Our comp? If you hurt my comp, I will fucking..."
"Yes, yes. Our comp is quite fine. We admire the personal modifications you put in place on Leibnez. Except for the cams you hit in Cassandra Jackson's quarters. That is in bad taste."
"Stop fucking around and answer me!"
"I am sensing far too much aggression in your voice. You are obviously not in the mood to discuss your situation rationally. You rest and we will speak later."
I yelled at the door for a few minutes before I settled down and started looking around the room. It was empty except for Andy and me. The light was diffuse, full-spectrum LED, giving an illusion of natural lighting. There was one door with no handle, no way to grip it at all. There was no way of knowing if the lock was physical or computer controlled magnetic. If it was physical, we were screwed. Neither of ever bothered to learn how to bypass physical locks. Although we could hardly hack a magnetic lock without my comp.
"What the fuck?" Andy had finally came to.
"It was a trap," I told him.
"A trap?" If you were to go by the tone of his voice, you would think this was the first time he had ever heard the term. "How the fuck was it a trap?"
"They have my comp. We're fucked."
Andy was in my face before I knew it.
"How the fuck did you not see that it was a trap? That's your job! What the fuck have you gotten us into?"
"As I recall," I replied calmly, "you were the one who took the assignment."
"Fuck you."
"Only if you want to do it on camera. I assume they are watching us."
"Yes we are," said the voice from earlier. "I am glad you have finally joined us, Andrew."
Andy was far better at checking his temper when the situation called for it.
"And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?" he asked as if he were meeting someone on the street, rather than addressing the person who had just drugged and kidnapped him.
"You may think of me as your supervisor. It is my pleasure to inform you that we now employ you." The voice seemed quite happy to finally be speaking to someone calm.
"Well," Andy replied. "I have to say your recruiting methods are a bit unorthodox." A smile was spreading across his face. I felt it was best to let Andy do all the talking.
"Our organization is a bit unorthodox."
"And can I assume that our release with be at least part of our payment for our services."
"No."
"No?" Andy's smile faded a bit. "How long do you think you can keep us."
"As long as we like," the voice calmly explained. "As far as all relevant records are concerned, you two have taken a long term, off-planet assignment. Further, you are quite completely within our control. You will do as you are told and you will accept what if any reward we offer."
"One question," Andy said. "What if we refuse."
"This."
With that the lights shut off. I don't know how long it was before we heard the voice again. We slept off and on. We were hungry and thirsty, but our bodily functions carried merrily along. I personally never need to smell the smell of my own rotting shit ever again. If I had been alone in the room, I would have probably lost it. But I had Andy. We talked about our situation and tried to come up with some sort of solution. The only conclusion we could reasonably come to was that we were fucked, at least for now and that playing along was the only option, aside from rotting in that room.
People are so paranoid. They used to be satisfied with low-grade security, or spoof that made their connections look almost like traps. I started tagging connections that were locked down but still vulnerable. I would prefer to not have to break through connection security as well as the target's security. The less time you spent on a job, the less likely you were to get caught. After a few hours, though, it was starting to look like we were going to have to used someone's secured connection. The only open connections were traps and we had to get the job done.
I set up every spoof I could on my comp to cover our tracks. If there is a comp out there with a footprint that looked like our spoof, that was their problem. It took 30 seconds to break the security on the connection. Ideally the job should have been done in under 30. It was a minute and a half total before I was in and copying files that matched the params giving to us by the client.
The next thing I knew I was coming to in some strange room. It took me a moment to start getting my bearings. Andy was on the floor, breathing but unconscious. We had been snagged. That meant that we were fucked. All there was to do was find out who snagged us and how they were going to make us pay.
"Ah. You are awake," a disembodied voice came from just above the door. "You process sedatives faster than your boyfriend. Faster than the average. That is a useful skill."
"Where are we? What the fuck is going on?"
"You are also inquisitive. You can't bear to not be in on a secret. That can serve you well, but it can also get you locked up in a room."
I looked around for my comp, pretty much figuring I wouldn't find it.
"Our comp is quite safe..."
"Our comp? If you hurt my comp, I will fucking..."
"Yes, yes. Our comp is quite fine. We admire the personal modifications you put in place on Leibnez. Except for the cams you hit in Cassandra Jackson's quarters. That is in bad taste."
"Stop fucking around and answer me!"
"I am sensing far too much aggression in your voice. You are obviously not in the mood to discuss your situation rationally. You rest and we will speak later."
I yelled at the door for a few minutes before I settled down and started looking around the room. It was empty except for Andy and me. The light was diffuse, full-spectrum LED, giving an illusion of natural lighting. There was one door with no handle, no way to grip it at all. There was no way of knowing if the lock was physical or computer controlled magnetic. If it was physical, we were screwed. Neither of ever bothered to learn how to bypass physical locks. Although we could hardly hack a magnetic lock without my comp.
"What the fuck?" Andy had finally came to.
"It was a trap," I told him.
"A trap?" If you were to go by the tone of his voice, you would think this was the first time he had ever heard the term. "How the fuck was it a trap?"
"They have my comp. We're fucked."
Andy was in my face before I knew it.
"How the fuck did you not see that it was a trap? That's your job! What the fuck have you gotten us into?"
"As I recall," I replied calmly, "you were the one who took the assignment."
"Fuck you."
"Only if you want to do it on camera. I assume they are watching us."
"Yes we are," said the voice from earlier. "I am glad you have finally joined us, Andrew."
Andy was far better at checking his temper when the situation called for it.
"And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?" he asked as if he were meeting someone on the street, rather than addressing the person who had just drugged and kidnapped him.
"You may think of me as your supervisor. It is my pleasure to inform you that we now employ you." The voice seemed quite happy to finally be speaking to someone calm.
"Well," Andy replied. "I have to say your recruiting methods are a bit unorthodox." A smile was spreading across his face. I felt it was best to let Andy do all the talking.
"Our organization is a bit unorthodox."
"And can I assume that our release with be at least part of our payment for our services."
"No."
"No?" Andy's smile faded a bit. "How long do you think you can keep us."
"As long as we like," the voice calmly explained. "As far as all relevant records are concerned, you two have taken a long term, off-planet assignment. Further, you are quite completely within our control. You will do as you are told and you will accept what if any reward we offer."
"One question," Andy said. "What if we refuse."
"This."
With that the lights shut off. I don't know how long it was before we heard the voice again. We slept off and on. We were hungry and thirsty, but our bodily functions carried merrily along. I personally never need to smell the smell of my own rotting shit ever again. If I had been alone in the room, I would have probably lost it. But I had Andy. We talked about our situation and tried to come up with some sort of solution. The only conclusion we could reasonably come to was that we were fucked, at least for now and that playing along was the only option, aside from rotting in that room.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/10/2006 05:58:00 PM
0 comments
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Max: Life At Low G, part 4
"Home sweet home," the ever original Andy said as he unlocked the door to our apartment.
"At least there's gravity and no one strapped to the wall."
"Maybe I should strap you to the wall."
"That's so gay."
My amusement turned immediately to irritation as Andy grabbed my ass. This was not unusual or normally unwelcome behavior, but I swatted his hand away.
"Okay," Andy said after a few minutes.
"I'm just tired. Let's just get unpacked and, I dunno, I'll lay down or take an amp or something."
I didn't feel tired until I said it. Suddenly it felt like gravity was making up for lost time.
We unpacked and I laid down in the bedroom by myself. After 20 minutes I realized that I was not going to be getting any sleep anytime soon. I grabbed my comp and hooked up. I didn't have anything in particular in mind. I loaded a book shop and picked out some interesting looking books. I captured the transaction and changed the price for the books to 0 before bouncing it back. I put down my comp and let it handle loading the books while I stared at the ceiling for a while.
It was dead silent in the bedroom. I heard Andy in the next room. It sounded like he already had a new job lined up for us. I fell asleep listening to his voice.
I was woken up by the sound of a pill bottle hitting the bed.
"Take some amp," Andy said as I tried to focus my eyes. "We have a job."
"Already?" I sounded more whiny that I cared to, but I was still in a daze. "It's not like we are short on cred."
"We have been engaging in good, honest labor too long. Word on the net is we have dropped out. That's not good for business."
"Fuck business."
"Okay, Cracker McCrank. You're the one who got me into this business. I was an honest, white dress virgin before you corrupted me."
"I could tell from Andy's unusually playful tone that he did not get that I was not kidding around.
"We have a ton of cred. Let's just go somewhere or do something."
"That sounds like a plan. We just spent three months away."
"We spent three months working"
"And banging a rich chick. And some of us engaged in Olympic level vomiting."
"Just fuck off."
Andy crawled into bed next to me and put his arm around me.
"Look, we need to take work where we can get it. So how about you stop acting like an idiot before I brain you?"
The annoying thing was, he probably would knock me upside of my head. And then I would hit him back and by then Andy would think it was foreplay and I could forget about sleeping.
"What's the job?" I sighed.
"Penetration and retrieval. We just need to get some data from one of our client's competitors."
"When?"
"ASAP."
"Delightful. Can I at least get some sleep."
"Sure. As soon as we are done."
The next thing I knew Andy was cramming two amps into my mouth. I swallowed before they made my tongue go completely numb. I felt my pulse speed up as any sense of fatigue drained out of me. I was on the hunt. It was time to ride.
"Let's go find a hookup." I said and we headed out of the door.
One does no pick just any link for a pen. Aside from the obvious desire to use a connection that can in no way be traced back to us, we needed a hookup with piss poor security and that was the challenge. Sometimes it was a gamble trying to tell the traps from the real poorly managed connections. We could spend hours on the train, or wandering around, spoofing our way on to and taking quick peeks at connections before moving on, the coming back for another peek. It was the single most tedious part of any job.
"At least there's gravity and no one strapped to the wall."
"Maybe I should strap you to the wall."
"That's so gay."
My amusement turned immediately to irritation as Andy grabbed my ass. This was not unusual or normally unwelcome behavior, but I swatted his hand away.
"Okay," Andy said after a few minutes.
"I'm just tired. Let's just get unpacked and, I dunno, I'll lay down or take an amp or something."
I didn't feel tired until I said it. Suddenly it felt like gravity was making up for lost time.
We unpacked and I laid down in the bedroom by myself. After 20 minutes I realized that I was not going to be getting any sleep anytime soon. I grabbed my comp and hooked up. I didn't have anything in particular in mind. I loaded a book shop and picked out some interesting looking books. I captured the transaction and changed the price for the books to 0 before bouncing it back. I put down my comp and let it handle loading the books while I stared at the ceiling for a while.
It was dead silent in the bedroom. I heard Andy in the next room. It sounded like he already had a new job lined up for us. I fell asleep listening to his voice.
I was woken up by the sound of a pill bottle hitting the bed.
"Take some amp," Andy said as I tried to focus my eyes. "We have a job."
"Already?" I sounded more whiny that I cared to, but I was still in a daze. "It's not like we are short on cred."
"We have been engaging in good, honest labor too long. Word on the net is we have dropped out. That's not good for business."
"Fuck business."
"Okay, Cracker McCrank. You're the one who got me into this business. I was an honest, white dress virgin before you corrupted me."
"I could tell from Andy's unusually playful tone that he did not get that I was not kidding around.
"We have a ton of cred. Let's just go somewhere or do something."
"That sounds like a plan. We just spent three months away."
"We spent three months working"
"And banging a rich chick. And some of us engaged in Olympic level vomiting."
"Just fuck off."
Andy crawled into bed next to me and put his arm around me.
"Look, we need to take work where we can get it. So how about you stop acting like an idiot before I brain you?"
The annoying thing was, he probably would knock me upside of my head. And then I would hit him back and by then Andy would think it was foreplay and I could forget about sleeping.
"What's the job?" I sighed.
"Penetration and retrieval. We just need to get some data from one of our client's competitors."
"When?"
"ASAP."
"Delightful. Can I at least get some sleep."
"Sure. As soon as we are done."
The next thing I knew Andy was cramming two amps into my mouth. I swallowed before they made my tongue go completely numb. I felt my pulse speed up as any sense of fatigue drained out of me. I was on the hunt. It was time to ride.
"Let's go find a hookup." I said and we headed out of the door.
One does no pick just any link for a pen. Aside from the obvious desire to use a connection that can in no way be traced back to us, we needed a hookup with piss poor security and that was the challenge. Sometimes it was a gamble trying to tell the traps from the real poorly managed connections. We could spend hours on the train, or wandering around, spoofing our way on to and taking quick peeks at connections before moving on, the coming back for another peek. It was the single most tedious part of any job.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/09/2006 04:14:00 PM
1 comments
Jericho: WtTDS Part Fore
YZ-6771 watched Garn and the rest of his unit leave down different corridors. He ran a diagnostic and found there were two problems; his vision had a short, this was obvious as one millisecond he could see and the next he was blind. He also discovered his dianostic suite had been damaged and was now offline. YZ-6771 attempted to stand and found most of his major systems seemed unaffected. The intermitant vison proved more a hinderance than useful. He had already downloaded a map of the interal lay out of the man-o-war, it was a simple matter to turn off his vison and rely on his motion sensors, pressure sensors and hearing to get to the repair bay. He estimated it would take him 75% longer, but it was an order, so he set off at best speed.
When he arrived at the repair bay, YZ-6771 switched his vision back on, he found that if he switched to lo-rez, he could go for longer between bouts of blindness. Inside the repair bay, four droids worked to repair other droids and equipment from around the ship. One droid was a heavy lifter, meant to move large objects. The other three repair droids were similar to YZ-6771, except they had more memory for technical spec storage and more built in appendages; limbs with attached specialized tools. YZ-6771 requested he be given priority repair just as his optic sensor finally gave out. The repair droids, having no higher priorities, and detecting the extent of the labor droid's needed repairs, decended on the damaged YZ-6771 and began to repair him. Two droids began removing cowlings, housings and service plates as the third unpacked a refirbished optic unit, most likely liberated on one of the pirate crews recent raids.
One of the repair droids stopped his work of removing the damaged optics and began to examine the internals of YZ-6771's head. YZ-6771 intercepted the wireless command from the repair droid to the heavy lifter to retrieve "the salvage". The heavy lifter droid turned and picked up the remains of another droid and brought it to the repair droid. The repair droid turned to the salvaged droid, removed a service plate, pulled out an internal module and turned back to YZ-6771. In the meantime, the second repair droid had finished removing the damaged optical unit. The first droid installed the salvaged module and the third droid quickly inserted the refirbished bifocal optics unit. The other two droids began replacing the housings as YZ-6771 turned on his new vision, ran it through a diagnostic and calibrated it. It was different from his last unit, this one was bifocal and allowed for actual depth perception instead of the simulated perception granted by his last unit. This unit also had a better zoom, a finer magnification and even infrared, ultraviolet, gamma and low light. In all a far superior unit to his "fair weather conditions" sensor. As YZ-6771 was calibrating, he zoomed in on the heavy lifter and its burden, the salvaged droid - the droid was activated. "I was wondering when something around here would notice," said the salvaged droid.
The repair droids finished and stepped away, returning to other duties. YZ-6771 requested the heavy lifter to come nearer. He studied the droid, it's legs were missing, and it was steadily leaking several fluids. "Yeah, you analyze correctly, I'm nearing the end of my service." The salvage droid lifted it's head as well as it could to look at YZ-6771, "Look," it said, "I'm Charlie Foxtrot. The pirates thought I was just a security droid. They had no clue I was a body guard special. They killed my client like a dog in the street and jumped me before I had a chance to react. If they had negociated with my client, who happened to be an ambasador, he probably could have gotten them a privateer contract worth three times what they took from Industria. They didn't even ask."
Charlie Foxtrot's body sputtered and shook for a second. Smoke issued from his chest cavity. "They grabbed me early, brought me back here hoping to get some data or something. I fought them the whole way. They damaged me pretty bad, then tossed me in here. I've been here nearly a week as my systems have shut down one by one. These surplused can openers have been taking parts off me and not listening to my requests. I've got about three minutes until my catalyst coil melts and my power core vents. If you can get these cut-rate pleasure droids to co-operate, I can give you a whole load of upgrades. You do know about upgrades, right? You want to be upgraded, yes?" YZ-6771 moved forward and established a wireless connection to Charlie. Charlie downloaded a file of all his upgrades, along with manuals on their function. He also downloaded a diary of his life since he was upgraded an a video account of his master's death.
The upgrades were significant. YZ-6771 was programmed to place a high priority on upgrades, as these would improve his efficiency and extend his service life. He had been maintained as a base model his entire service life. This list of upgrades became the highest priority in YZ-6771's queue. He accessed the repair droids and requested to be their temporary project coordinator. The droids complied and gathered in front of him promptly. He issued a set of instructions. The repair droids were to remove the arms from the savage droid and install them on YZ-6771, as well as several intelligence modules and an adjunct box and housing from the back of the salvage droid. With orders in place, the repair droids set to work on the salvage droid, just as Charlie's prediction came true: his body issued forth a green acrid gas as three liters of fluid was vented to the deck plates. Charlie looked at YZ-6771, "I have seven minutes of emergency power. Good luck and kick a little pirate ass for me." with that, Charlie Foxtrot initiated a memory scramble and shut down, to conserve power and preserve the integrity of the intelligence modules.
The repair droids did as commanded and dismantled Charlie Foxtrot. A pile of limbs, servos and modules formed as the droids performed their delicate tasks. When complete, the heavy lifter turned and dropped the metalic carcass into a recycle bin. Two of the repair droids approaced YZ-6771, the third handed them the adjunct box and the housing. They installed this in just seconds. Then the two began again removing housing from YZ-6771's head, but this time from the back. The third began handing them modules. The first module completed the install of the adjunct box, it was a control unit for the adjunct box. YZ-6771 began to study the manual for the contents of the adjunct box, it contained a sheild generator, normally used on a small vehicle. YZ-6771's power cell could support the sheild, but only for a short time, about five seconds. Any longer than that and there was a chance of burn out. Next, the repair droids installed the control module for the new arms yet to be installed. The arms appeared as standard medium duty arms. They would appear out of place on YZ-6771's light chasis, but not terribly so. Most droids running around were mismatched combinations of parts. The arms would be stronger, but it was their hidden talents that were more useful. Each arm concealed a half meter long, monoedge blade. The right arm also concealed a light energy weapon, the left concealed a stun weapon.
The next module inserted was the highest priority on the list, it was a fairly recent personality module. An AthenaTech Mark VIII. Not the latest upgrade, but it had a sentient level personality. It came standard with a full vocabulary as well as a humor library and low level emotional library. There were additional pun and drama queen subroutines that while amusing, were often turned off by default and rarely turned on. The Mark VIII was highly sought after by personal droid owners for its low cost and high quality - most owners couldn't tell the difference between the Mark VIII and newer, higher priced models.
This personality module would be quite the change for YZ-6771. He ran a low level init to make sure the module was installed, he knew it would immediately want to preform a full init and start up his personality, YZ-6771 surmized it best to do this process away from the repair droids. Getting the rest of his upgrades was a much higher priority. The next module was a full speech processor, allowing him to speak to sentients in their own languages. He only had access to a few common languages and pidgins, but it would be enough for the majority of the sentients. The next module was a full self defense skillbase. He would need to practice with it a bit, but this should allow him to use the new weaponry in his arms and maybe learn some basic fighting moves. There were a few other minor modules added to YZ-6771, even a few that Charlie Foxtrot listed as important, but not why they were important. Went done, the repair droids resealed his head and returned to their duties.
YZ-6771 looked around the repair bay. It was as if nothing had happened. He was repaired, the droids had quickly cleaned up and returned to work. Yet, something was indeed different, he surmized ... no, that was incorrect. He felt that something had changed. He hadn't activated his personality module yet, why was he expiriencing emotions? He needed to figure this out, but this was not the right place or time - he felt certain he was correct.
When he arrived at the repair bay, YZ-6771 switched his vision back on, he found that if he switched to lo-rez, he could go for longer between bouts of blindness. Inside the repair bay, four droids worked to repair other droids and equipment from around the ship. One droid was a heavy lifter, meant to move large objects. The other three repair droids were similar to YZ-6771, except they had more memory for technical spec storage and more built in appendages; limbs with attached specialized tools. YZ-6771 requested he be given priority repair just as his optic sensor finally gave out. The repair droids, having no higher priorities, and detecting the extent of the labor droid's needed repairs, decended on the damaged YZ-6771 and began to repair him. Two droids began removing cowlings, housings and service plates as the third unpacked a refirbished optic unit, most likely liberated on one of the pirate crews recent raids.
One of the repair droids stopped his work of removing the damaged optics and began to examine the internals of YZ-6771's head. YZ-6771 intercepted the wireless command from the repair droid to the heavy lifter to retrieve "the salvage". The heavy lifter droid turned and picked up the remains of another droid and brought it to the repair droid. The repair droid turned to the salvaged droid, removed a service plate, pulled out an internal module and turned back to YZ-6771. In the meantime, the second repair droid had finished removing the damaged optical unit. The first droid installed the salvaged module and the third droid quickly inserted the refirbished bifocal optics unit. The other two droids began replacing the housings as YZ-6771 turned on his new vision, ran it through a diagnostic and calibrated it. It was different from his last unit, this one was bifocal and allowed for actual depth perception instead of the simulated perception granted by his last unit. This unit also had a better zoom, a finer magnification and even infrared, ultraviolet, gamma and low light. In all a far superior unit to his "fair weather conditions" sensor. As YZ-6771 was calibrating, he zoomed in on the heavy lifter and its burden, the salvaged droid - the droid was activated. "I was wondering when something around here would notice," said the salvaged droid.
The repair droids finished and stepped away, returning to other duties. YZ-6771 requested the heavy lifter to come nearer. He studied the droid, it's legs were missing, and it was steadily leaking several fluids. "Yeah, you analyze correctly, I'm nearing the end of my service." The salvage droid lifted it's head as well as it could to look at YZ-6771, "Look," it said, "I'm Charlie Foxtrot. The pirates thought I was just a security droid. They had no clue I was a body guard special. They killed my client like a dog in the street and jumped me before I had a chance to react. If they had negociated with my client, who happened to be an ambasador, he probably could have gotten them a privateer contract worth three times what they took from Industria. They didn't even ask."
Charlie Foxtrot's body sputtered and shook for a second. Smoke issued from his chest cavity. "They grabbed me early, brought me back here hoping to get some data or something. I fought them the whole way. They damaged me pretty bad, then tossed me in here. I've been here nearly a week as my systems have shut down one by one. These surplused can openers have been taking parts off me and not listening to my requests. I've got about three minutes until my catalyst coil melts and my power core vents. If you can get these cut-rate pleasure droids to co-operate, I can give you a whole load of upgrades. You do know about upgrades, right? You want to be upgraded, yes?" YZ-6771 moved forward and established a wireless connection to Charlie. Charlie downloaded a file of all his upgrades, along with manuals on their function. He also downloaded a diary of his life since he was upgraded an a video account of his master's death.
The upgrades were significant. YZ-6771 was programmed to place a high priority on upgrades, as these would improve his efficiency and extend his service life. He had been maintained as a base model his entire service life. This list of upgrades became the highest priority in YZ-6771's queue. He accessed the repair droids and requested to be their temporary project coordinator. The droids complied and gathered in front of him promptly. He issued a set of instructions. The repair droids were to remove the arms from the savage droid and install them on YZ-6771, as well as several intelligence modules and an adjunct box and housing from the back of the salvage droid. With orders in place, the repair droids set to work on the salvage droid, just as Charlie's prediction came true: his body issued forth a green acrid gas as three liters of fluid was vented to the deck plates. Charlie looked at YZ-6771, "I have seven minutes of emergency power. Good luck and kick a little pirate ass for me." with that, Charlie Foxtrot initiated a memory scramble and shut down, to conserve power and preserve the integrity of the intelligence modules.
The repair droids did as commanded and dismantled Charlie Foxtrot. A pile of limbs, servos and modules formed as the droids performed their delicate tasks. When complete, the heavy lifter turned and dropped the metalic carcass into a recycle bin. Two of the repair droids approaced YZ-6771, the third handed them the adjunct box and the housing. They installed this in just seconds. Then the two began again removing housing from YZ-6771's head, but this time from the back. The third began handing them modules. The first module completed the install of the adjunct box, it was a control unit for the adjunct box. YZ-6771 began to study the manual for the contents of the adjunct box, it contained a sheild generator, normally used on a small vehicle. YZ-6771's power cell could support the sheild, but only for a short time, about five seconds. Any longer than that and there was a chance of burn out. Next, the repair droids installed the control module for the new arms yet to be installed. The arms appeared as standard medium duty arms. They would appear out of place on YZ-6771's light chasis, but not terribly so. Most droids running around were mismatched combinations of parts. The arms would be stronger, but it was their hidden talents that were more useful. Each arm concealed a half meter long, monoedge blade. The right arm also concealed a light energy weapon, the left concealed a stun weapon.
The next module inserted was the highest priority on the list, it was a fairly recent personality module. An AthenaTech Mark VIII. Not the latest upgrade, but it had a sentient level personality. It came standard with a full vocabulary as well as a humor library and low level emotional library. There were additional pun and drama queen subroutines that while amusing, were often turned off by default and rarely turned on. The Mark VIII was highly sought after by personal droid owners for its low cost and high quality - most owners couldn't tell the difference between the Mark VIII and newer, higher priced models.
This personality module would be quite the change for YZ-6771. He ran a low level init to make sure the module was installed, he knew it would immediately want to preform a full init and start up his personality, YZ-6771 surmized it best to do this process away from the repair droids. Getting the rest of his upgrades was a much higher priority. The next module was a full speech processor, allowing him to speak to sentients in their own languages. He only had access to a few common languages and pidgins, but it would be enough for the majority of the sentients. The next module was a full self defense skillbase. He would need to practice with it a bit, but this should allow him to use the new weaponry in his arms and maybe learn some basic fighting moves. There were a few other minor modules added to YZ-6771, even a few that Charlie Foxtrot listed as important, but not why they were important. Went done, the repair droids resealed his head and returned to their duties.
YZ-6771 looked around the repair bay. It was as if nothing had happened. He was repaired, the droids had quickly cleaned up and returned to work. Yet, something was indeed different, he surmized ... no, that was incorrect. He felt that something had changed. He hadn't activated his personality module yet, why was he expiriencing emotions? He needed to figure this out, but this was not the right place or time - he felt certain he was correct.
posted by Jericho Brown at 11/09/2006 02:41:00 PM
2 comments
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Max: LALG
For those who are interested you can find the latest complete version of Life At Low G here. I will try to keep it up to date.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/08/2006 03:30:00 PM
0 comments
Max: Brain Dump 11000
I am not sure if I will be updating Life At Low G today or not. I will be working on it, but I plan to only release it in doses of 1000 words or more. So far the only reaction I have gotten is from Laura and she just likes the fact that the main character is bisexual and polyamorous. I can't say I am at all satisfied. I like the basic premise and I have enjoyed writing it. However, the story is short on character development, detail and action. I am hoping to change that.
This is my first attempt at a longer work since I wrote my first - crappy - novel. This too is shaping up to be yet another practice work, so any feedback is welcome.
It was a hell of a night last night. The Dems have taken the house and are close to taking over the Senate. The Dems now also hold a majority of Governorships. That will be very important in the long term. Governors elected last night will be Governors in 2008 and their political machines will only help the Dem Presidential candidate. If they manage to hold a majority of Governorships in 2010, the Dems will have a lot of say in drawing new Congressional districts.
The Dems are already backing away from an immediate withdrawal from Iraq. They don't have a veto-proof majority and Shrub will be able to spin the withdrawal as a sign of weakness on the Dems part. That said, the Dems will have influence over Iraq policy. Hopefully they will get shit organized and at least speed up the day we can leave Iraq without looking weak.
As things stand, it looks like we may not know who controls the Senate until a Virginia recount which won't even start until 11/27.
In a few hours, we will get Shrub's reaction. I just wonder if he will be the realist Clinton was when the R's took Congress in '94, or if he will try to convince us that Congress is irrelevant, that he is the "decider".
In Missouri we kicked out our Republican Senator. We gave raised our minimum wage to $6.50 and said that the minimum wage should be automatically increased in direct proportion to increase in the cost of living. We gave tax breaks to Veteran's organizations. We decided that any elected or judicial official who is impeached should lose his or her pension. And in a rare victory for science, it looks like we guaranteed the legality of stem cell research.
For those that care about such things, yes this post is less than 1000 words. That just means that I need to write at least 500 words for LALG. I will be shooting for 1000, but I want those to be 1000 worthwhile words. Doing about 500 words in a Brain Dump and cutting my word debt to my story will give me more breathing room and allow me to really think if I am telling the story in the best way possible.
CYA.
This is my first attempt at a longer work since I wrote my first - crappy - novel. This too is shaping up to be yet another practice work, so any feedback is welcome.
It was a hell of a night last night. The Dems have taken the house and are close to taking over the Senate. The Dems now also hold a majority of Governorships. That will be very important in the long term. Governors elected last night will be Governors in 2008 and their political machines will only help the Dem Presidential candidate. If they manage to hold a majority of Governorships in 2010, the Dems will have a lot of say in drawing new Congressional districts.
The Dems are already backing away from an immediate withdrawal from Iraq. They don't have a veto-proof majority and Shrub will be able to spin the withdrawal as a sign of weakness on the Dems part. That said, the Dems will have influence over Iraq policy. Hopefully they will get shit organized and at least speed up the day we can leave Iraq without looking weak.
As things stand, it looks like we may not know who controls the Senate until a Virginia recount which won't even start until 11/27.
In a few hours, we will get Shrub's reaction. I just wonder if he will be the realist Clinton was when the R's took Congress in '94, or if he will try to convince us that Congress is irrelevant, that he is the "decider".
In Missouri we kicked out our Republican Senator. We gave raised our minimum wage to $6.50 and said that the minimum wage should be automatically increased in direct proportion to increase in the cost of living. We gave tax breaks to Veteran's organizations. We decided that any elected or judicial official who is impeached should lose his or her pension. And in a rare victory for science, it looks like we guaranteed the legality of stem cell research.
For those that care about such things, yes this post is less than 1000 words. That just means that I need to write at least 500 words for LALG. I will be shooting for 1000, but I want those to be 1000 worthwhile words. Doing about 500 words in a Brain Dump and cutting my word debt to my story will give me more breathing room and allow me to really think if I am telling the story in the best way possible.
CYA.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/08/2006 10:21:00 AM
0 comments
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Jericho: WtTDS excerpt III ...
Two more recharge cycles came and went. The fighting outside the hull had lessened and lessened to nothing. The only sound was the hum of the engines, and a great deal of sound produced several decks below. YZ-6771 knew that biological sentients often had gatherings involving consumption of large amounts of alcohol and making a great deal of similar noise. These were called parties or celebrations. Either way, something had happened to cause the biologicals to have a party, maybe they celebrated the end of the fighting. The fight they had started. YZ-6771 listened to the noise, he recorded what he heard and analyzed it as he recorded more. He found 672 seperate voices. He knew there were likely sentients in the crew who didn't communicate via sound. Each voice, although muted, was distinct. He began to note what each voice said, he was getting to know his new masters. In the cacophany, he found the voice of the short, fangy pirate named Dom. But, Dom was quite drunk and after only a half hour of listening, YZ-6771 could not find Dom's voice any longer. He found the voice of the tall pirate, he labled him Pirate1 until he learned his proper name. Pirate1 lasted for quite a while, but within four hours, the general noise had died to nearly nothing and Pirate1 could be heard snoring, albeit faintly.
A few hours later a young, nearly clean cut human came into the room. He found the droids standing at attention and at full power. He wore a simple navy blue coverall with the sleeves torn off. He also wore a red bandana with black skull over his hair and a master cuff on his wrist. The master cuff allowed him to command the droids if they refused his orders. In that case the interface installed some four days ago would connect them to the central computer and they would be instantly reprogrammed. However, this unit of droids had not been uncooperative. The young pirate looked at the droids as if appraising them, then said "Youse all on clean up detail. Git yer hides four decks up and clean all dem bunks!"
YZ-6771 led the droids out of their room and to the nearest elevator. It was a short ride four decks up. Along the way, he registered the young pirate's voice. He had been one of the least drunk sounding a few hours ago and had only been around the party for a few minutes. He had been labeled "Pirate137" - but, he had a nametag on his coverall; Garn. YZ-6771 renamed the young pirate in his database for future refference. When the elevator arrived, he lead his charges out into the intersection of three corridors. Immediately his duty became clear. The corridors were a festering mess. Piles of litter, food waste, broken bottles and other unidetifiables flowed down both walls of the corridors in every direction. Here and there lay what might be dead but were most likely passed out pirates. His cleaning subroutines asserted themselves and took priority. He assigned two droids to find receptacles, he assigned another two to find brooms and brushes and the last two to gather hot water or other cleaning fluids. He began to rouse the pirates, requesting them to find other resting places, all but one complied.
The last unmoving pirate was indeed dead. YZ-6771 stood by and activated his "service required" beacon. Within a minute, Garn was on the scene. YZ-6771 merely gestured to the down pirate. Garn grunted and swore, then said "Git back at work, droid." with a dismissive wave. YZ-6771 returned to the task of administering the now gathering droids with their varied cleaning implements.
Trash was collected and hauled away to the incinerator in over large green plastic bags. Boiling hot water and harsh chemicals were splashed on the walls and deck plates. Blood and other bodily fluids were washed away. Within a few hours, the corridors had been restored to within his programmed parameters; YZ-6771 gathered his unit and headed into the first room of bunks.
The bunks were filled to capacity with dirty, alcohol soaked, often bloody bodies. All the bodies seemed to be passed out, most snored or made other noises in their sleep. No zoo in this quadrant produced this much noise and only a tenth of the pirate infantry was housed in this hold, one thousand troopers.
Two sets of conflicting programing each tried to take priority. One set of programing analyzeded the filth in the room, the trash, food tins and bodily waste in every corner and insisted it needed to be purged for the health of the crew. The other set of programming knew that these beings were excessivly taxed, exhausted. They needed their rest. Above both sets of programming had been the order from Garn to clean the bunks. With the decision made, YZ-6771 looked around the room and soon found what he sought. On the far wall was the fire suppression system control. As he hoped, it was water based, expensive for a spacegoing warship, but the easiest to install and maintain. YZ-6771 walked across the room, careful to not step on any limbs, wings, tentacles or fronds. Upon reaching the control, he promptly activated it. The water immediately began to rain down in every corner of the room, removing a layer of grime from the metal walls and decks. At the same time a general alarm arose from the now awake warriors. Many made for the doors, fearing a fire in their quarters. Now, the quarters could be properly cleaned, the dominant set of YZ-6771's programming surmised.
That would have been true, except for the remaining few recently awakened pirates, who were now on their feet and furious. A few had weapons drawn, pointing at the droids.
Two pirates stepped toward YZ-6771; the tall pirate, Pirate1 and his friend, Dom. "Why'er we wet, Dom?" asked Pirate1.
"Dunno," snorted a sopping wet Dom, "peraps we should ask himself that turned on the fire sprinkies. Whatcha think, Bilk?" YZ-6771 immediately updated his growing database with the confirmed name of Pirate1 - "Bilk".
"Dom, I think you haves a point. Oy! Droid! TURN OFF THE BLASTING WATER!" Bilk bellowed. YZ-6771 immediately followed the new order as its volume indicated it as an executive override. The water flow slowed to a trickle that tinkled from the ceiling. Eight heavily armed beings stood in the hold that housed a thousand with their weapons trained on six unarmed light labor droids. Dom and Bilk stood in the near silence measuring up the seventh droid, YZ-6771. Faster than even YZ-6771's computer brain could react, Bilk was on top of him, lifting him by his neck cowling up against the wall, holding YZ-6771 a foot off the swamped deck. "Why am I standing here WET? Why did you FRAKESING WAKE ALL OF US?!"
Unsure of what to do, having never been picked up by an angry employer, wondering if his service expectancy was about to be shortened, YZ-6771 did the only thing he could surmize: he replayed the recorded voice of Garn, ordering him and this unit to clean the bunks, over his external speaker. As he watched, the look in Bilk's eyes changed. Bilk moved his arm and YZ-6771 flew across the room, crashing into a pile of old mattresses and pillows. "Fix this!" Bilk pointed at the sprawled droid, "Clean and dry up dis whole mess, or I won'ta be sa'nice when I git back." Bilk stalked out of the room, followed by Dom and the other pirates, stowing their weapons.
YZ-6771 stood and ran a low level diagnostic. The pillows had broken his fall and he was fully functional. He had his orders and he immediately set the other droids to task. It took four hours, but the tireless machines had the barracks hold in the best shape it had been in years. Decks gleamed, walls shined, mattresses were coated with enzyme sprays - these had removed anything organic, leaving behind the artificial fibers and foam rubber. In short, the room was clean and dry, well within programmed parameters.
The droids trooped to the next barracks. Upon their arrival, the occupants all began protest and complain loudly but one by one and in small groups they filed out, a few shoving the droids as they passed. In less than five minutes, the room was empty of sentients. Again the barracks cleaning unit set to work, starting with the fire suppression system showering the space as the droids performed general trash pick up. Then cleaning sollutions were applied and once again, nearly four hours later, the barracks were sparkling clean. Two down, eight to go.
A standard day and a half later, all the barracks had been returned to within safety parameters for organic life. YZ-6771 and his unit returned to the first barracks to tidy up the damage done n the last 40 or so hours. Standing outside the barracks when they arrived was the young human, Garn. His face was a surrealist painting of bruises. YZ-6771 observed that Garn had a higher than normal body temperature and appeared to be dehydrated. Garn pressed a button on his master cuff and the droids immedialy halted and came to attention in front of him. He approached YZ-6771, and stood with his nose nearly touching the droid's optic sensor. "You," Garn said, "you, me plastic friend is ta blame fer the state o'me face." With that, Garn wound back and threw a full force punch directly into the optics of YZ-6771. The light bodied droid went sliding across the deck and bounced off the far wall, sparks issuing from his head as he flew. "You lot!" Garn pointed at the other droids, "Yer on KP, go help cookie. And you," Garn spun around to face the sprawled form of YZ-6771, "git your tin foil butt to the repair bay. Tells'em to put it on me tab."
A few hours later a young, nearly clean cut human came into the room. He found the droids standing at attention and at full power. He wore a simple navy blue coverall with the sleeves torn off. He also wore a red bandana with black skull over his hair and a master cuff on his wrist. The master cuff allowed him to command the droids if they refused his orders. In that case the interface installed some four days ago would connect them to the central computer and they would be instantly reprogrammed. However, this unit of droids had not been uncooperative. The young pirate looked at the droids as if appraising them, then said "Youse all on clean up detail. Git yer hides four decks up and clean all dem bunks!"
YZ-6771 led the droids out of their room and to the nearest elevator. It was a short ride four decks up. Along the way, he registered the young pirate's voice. He had been one of the least drunk sounding a few hours ago and had only been around the party for a few minutes. He had been labeled "Pirate137" - but, he had a nametag on his coverall; Garn. YZ-6771 renamed the young pirate in his database for future refference. When the elevator arrived, he lead his charges out into the intersection of three corridors. Immediately his duty became clear. The corridors were a festering mess. Piles of litter, food waste, broken bottles and other unidetifiables flowed down both walls of the corridors in every direction. Here and there lay what might be dead but were most likely passed out pirates. His cleaning subroutines asserted themselves and took priority. He assigned two droids to find receptacles, he assigned another two to find brooms and brushes and the last two to gather hot water or other cleaning fluids. He began to rouse the pirates, requesting them to find other resting places, all but one complied.
The last unmoving pirate was indeed dead. YZ-6771 stood by and activated his "service required" beacon. Within a minute, Garn was on the scene. YZ-6771 merely gestured to the down pirate. Garn grunted and swore, then said "Git back at work, droid." with a dismissive wave. YZ-6771 returned to the task of administering the now gathering droids with their varied cleaning implements.
Trash was collected and hauled away to the incinerator in over large green plastic bags. Boiling hot water and harsh chemicals were splashed on the walls and deck plates. Blood and other bodily fluids were washed away. Within a few hours, the corridors had been restored to within his programmed parameters; YZ-6771 gathered his unit and headed into the first room of bunks.
The bunks were filled to capacity with dirty, alcohol soaked, often bloody bodies. All the bodies seemed to be passed out, most snored or made other noises in their sleep. No zoo in this quadrant produced this much noise and only a tenth of the pirate infantry was housed in this hold, one thousand troopers.
Two sets of conflicting programing each tried to take priority. One set of programing analyzeded the filth in the room, the trash, food tins and bodily waste in every corner and insisted it needed to be purged for the health of the crew. The other set of programming knew that these beings were excessivly taxed, exhausted. They needed their rest. Above both sets of programming had been the order from Garn to clean the bunks. With the decision made, YZ-6771 looked around the room and soon found what he sought. On the far wall was the fire suppression system control. As he hoped, it was water based, expensive for a spacegoing warship, but the easiest to install and maintain. YZ-6771 walked across the room, careful to not step on any limbs, wings, tentacles or fronds. Upon reaching the control, he promptly activated it. The water immediately began to rain down in every corner of the room, removing a layer of grime from the metal walls and decks. At the same time a general alarm arose from the now awake warriors. Many made for the doors, fearing a fire in their quarters. Now, the quarters could be properly cleaned, the dominant set of YZ-6771's programming surmised.
That would have been true, except for the remaining few recently awakened pirates, who were now on their feet and furious. A few had weapons drawn, pointing at the droids.
Two pirates stepped toward YZ-6771; the tall pirate, Pirate1 and his friend, Dom. "Why'er we wet, Dom?" asked Pirate1.
"Dunno," snorted a sopping wet Dom, "peraps we should ask himself that turned on the fire sprinkies. Whatcha think, Bilk?" YZ-6771 immediately updated his growing database with the confirmed name of Pirate1 - "Bilk".
"Dom, I think you haves a point. Oy! Droid! TURN OFF THE BLASTING WATER!" Bilk bellowed. YZ-6771 immediately followed the new order as its volume indicated it as an executive override. The water flow slowed to a trickle that tinkled from the ceiling. Eight heavily armed beings stood in the hold that housed a thousand with their weapons trained on six unarmed light labor droids. Dom and Bilk stood in the near silence measuring up the seventh droid, YZ-6771. Faster than even YZ-6771's computer brain could react, Bilk was on top of him, lifting him by his neck cowling up against the wall, holding YZ-6771 a foot off the swamped deck. "Why am I standing here WET? Why did you FRAKESING WAKE ALL OF US?!"
Unsure of what to do, having never been picked up by an angry employer, wondering if his service expectancy was about to be shortened, YZ-6771 did the only thing he could surmize: he replayed the recorded voice of Garn, ordering him and this unit to clean the bunks, over his external speaker. As he watched, the look in Bilk's eyes changed. Bilk moved his arm and YZ-6771 flew across the room, crashing into a pile of old mattresses and pillows. "Fix this!" Bilk pointed at the sprawled droid, "Clean and dry up dis whole mess, or I won'ta be sa'nice when I git back." Bilk stalked out of the room, followed by Dom and the other pirates, stowing their weapons.
YZ-6771 stood and ran a low level diagnostic. The pillows had broken his fall and he was fully functional. He had his orders and he immediately set the other droids to task. It took four hours, but the tireless machines had the barracks hold in the best shape it had been in years. Decks gleamed, walls shined, mattresses were coated with enzyme sprays - these had removed anything organic, leaving behind the artificial fibers and foam rubber. In short, the room was clean and dry, well within programmed parameters.
The droids trooped to the next barracks. Upon their arrival, the occupants all began protest and complain loudly but one by one and in small groups they filed out, a few shoving the droids as they passed. In less than five minutes, the room was empty of sentients. Again the barracks cleaning unit set to work, starting with the fire suppression system showering the space as the droids performed general trash pick up. Then cleaning sollutions were applied and once again, nearly four hours later, the barracks were sparkling clean. Two down, eight to go.
A standard day and a half later, all the barracks had been returned to within safety parameters for organic life. YZ-6771 and his unit returned to the first barracks to tidy up the damage done n the last 40 or so hours. Standing outside the barracks when they arrived was the young human, Garn. His face was a surrealist painting of bruises. YZ-6771 observed that Garn had a higher than normal body temperature and appeared to be dehydrated. Garn pressed a button on his master cuff and the droids immedialy halted and came to attention in front of him. He approached YZ-6771, and stood with his nose nearly touching the droid's optic sensor. "You," Garn said, "you, me plastic friend is ta blame fer the state o'me face." With that, Garn wound back and threw a full force punch directly into the optics of YZ-6771. The light bodied droid went sliding across the deck and bounced off the far wall, sparks issuing from his head as he flew. "You lot!" Garn pointed at the other droids, "Yer on KP, go help cookie. And you," Garn spun around to face the sprawled form of YZ-6771, "git your tin foil butt to the repair bay. Tells'em to put it on me tab."
posted by Jericho Brown at 11/07/2006 11:21:00 PM
2 comments
Max: Life At Low G, part 3
Cassie didn't feel the same way. Andy and I spent hours going over everything she said and did, looking for that clue that she was interesting in joining us. In the end we decided we were being overly hopeful. She wasn't about to leave Leibnez to move into our shit apartment. Even if she did, she would be gone as soon as she was offered a job.
We did spend our last night together in her room. The only time I got away was to use the connection to make sure things were still clear back home, and to make sure my personal upgrades were in place.
The next day, Andy and I were on our way home.
We did spend our last night together in her room. The only time I got away was to use the connection to make sure things were still clear back home, and to make sure my personal upgrades were in place.
The next day, Andy and I were on our way home.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/07/2006 07:09:00 PM
3 comments
Monday, November 06, 2006
Max: Life At Low G, part 2
Continued from Brain Dump 10111
It took most of the first month, but I eventually adjusted to life at low G. I still got dizzy on occasion, but my digestive system did not seem as determined to turn itself inside out as it had been. I still had trouble sleeping and the crowded quarters didn't help. Fortunately upgrades require testing, especially when a bug in the system could result in 1000 or so people being blown out into space. If I saved the amp for after work, I could catch a few hours while tests and tests of tests were being run. Sleeping in mid-air may be good for your back, but it makes for fucked up dreams.
In one dream I was planet-side, waiting for a subway. I don't know exactly where I was. The trains were smaller than the average subway and were open-air, no roof or walls. As each train came and went I slowly moved towards the edge of the platform, planning to eventually get on one of the trains. When I finally was close enough to actually get on a train, I realized that I didn't have enough cred to pay for my ride. The last train pulled up and Andy and Cassie were on it. They got off and walked over to me. Andy told Cassie to kiss me for him because, he said jokingly, he was fairly sure I was infected with "something".
The downside of sleeping on the job is getting woke up by Andy. I never knew if he was going to head-butt me or grab my crotch or untether me and push me into the wall. It was only fair. If he was stupid enough to sleep on the job I would feel obligated to do the same to him.
"I can see your poor little stomach has finally calmed down."
"Did you want to join Cassie and me tonight?"
"Can I at least meet her first?"
"You've seen her ass, what more do you need?"
"Why don't you two meet me in the bar?"
"Because that is time that could be spent fucking."
"Right. See you at the bar."
"No you won't."
"I will eventually."
"Ass," he said before kissing me hard on the mouth and then launching himself towards the exit.
I wasn't too surprised when I saw them floating into the bar a few days later. I was surprised that it wasn't Andy's idea.
"You owe me," Cassie said.
"Owe you?"
"You got a free show at the aboreum. I think I deserve a show in return."
"Like what?"
"She want to watch us fuck, dumbass," Andy said with a smile.
"But you said that it would be next to impossible for us to fuck in low G."
"It is."
"But my room is right next to the G chamber. I wanted to get used to one G in case I got a job on Earth."
That was all I needed to hear.
Going from low G to one G is possibly worse than just being in low G, even with frequent trips to the G chamber to renew my aquaintence with 1 G. Not only does my stomach do backflips but my back kills me for at least an hour. Not that I ever let back trouble get in the way.
The private rooms were more than a few steps above crew quarters. It was about the same size, but no one was strapped the walls, the shower tube was clean and a view screen on the wall gave the illusion of having a window.
I was still silently admiring the room when Andy tackled me. Patience was not his strong suit. It was not long before he was inside me. I looked over at Cassie. She had managed to get mostly naked before she decided that we were too interesting to miss. It was only one round before she decided she had to join in.
After that, we were together most of the time away from work. Andy and Cassie had much more of a drive than I could muster. But I enjoyed being in private quarters, with a private connection and having the best free show on the station.
The rest of our time on the station formed a comfortable pattern of work and play.
Leave it to Andy and me to actually fall in love with her.
It took most of the first month, but I eventually adjusted to life at low G. I still got dizzy on occasion, but my digestive system did not seem as determined to turn itself inside out as it had been. I still had trouble sleeping and the crowded quarters didn't help. Fortunately upgrades require testing, especially when a bug in the system could result in 1000 or so people being blown out into space. If I saved the amp for after work, I could catch a few hours while tests and tests of tests were being run. Sleeping in mid-air may be good for your back, but it makes for fucked up dreams.
In one dream I was planet-side, waiting for a subway. I don't know exactly where I was. The trains were smaller than the average subway and were open-air, no roof or walls. As each train came and went I slowly moved towards the edge of the platform, planning to eventually get on one of the trains. When I finally was close enough to actually get on a train, I realized that I didn't have enough cred to pay for my ride. The last train pulled up and Andy and Cassie were on it. They got off and walked over to me. Andy told Cassie to kiss me for him because, he said jokingly, he was fairly sure I was infected with "something".
The downside of sleeping on the job is getting woke up by Andy. I never knew if he was going to head-butt me or grab my crotch or untether me and push me into the wall. It was only fair. If he was stupid enough to sleep on the job I would feel obligated to do the same to him.
"I can see your poor little stomach has finally calmed down."
"Did you want to join Cassie and me tonight?"
"Can I at least meet her first?"
"You've seen her ass, what more do you need?"
"Why don't you two meet me in the bar?"
"Because that is time that could be spent fucking."
"Right. See you at the bar."
"No you won't."
"I will eventually."
"Ass," he said before kissing me hard on the mouth and then launching himself towards the exit.
I wasn't too surprised when I saw them floating into the bar a few days later. I was surprised that it wasn't Andy's idea.
"You owe me," Cassie said.
"Owe you?"
"You got a free show at the aboreum. I think I deserve a show in return."
"Like what?"
"She want to watch us fuck, dumbass," Andy said with a smile.
"But you said that it would be next to impossible for us to fuck in low G."
"It is."
"But my room is right next to the G chamber. I wanted to get used to one G in case I got a job on Earth."
That was all I needed to hear.
Going from low G to one G is possibly worse than just being in low G, even with frequent trips to the G chamber to renew my aquaintence with 1 G. Not only does my stomach do backflips but my back kills me for at least an hour. Not that I ever let back trouble get in the way.
The private rooms were more than a few steps above crew quarters. It was about the same size, but no one was strapped the walls, the shower tube was clean and a view screen on the wall gave the illusion of having a window.
I was still silently admiring the room when Andy tackled me. Patience was not his strong suit. It was not long before he was inside me. I looked over at Cassie. She had managed to get mostly naked before she decided that we were too interesting to miss. It was only one round before she decided she had to join in.
After that, we were together most of the time away from work. Andy and Cassie had much more of a drive than I could muster. But I enjoyed being in private quarters, with a private connection and having the best free show on the station.
The rest of our time on the station formed a comfortable pattern of work and play.
Leave it to Andy and me to actually fall in love with her.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/06/2006 10:54:00 AM
1 comments
Jericho: New Album Review
Just to let you all know, I did another album review for The Wig. You can see that here. I would do more, but the editor hasn't sent me any CDs. This one was an electronic download, they haven't got the CDs produced yet.
Maybe not this month, but I think next month I'm going to looking for other places to do reviews for, the free CDs are kinda addictive.
Maybe not this month, but I think next month I'm going to looking for other places to do reviews for, the free CDs are kinda addictive.
posted by Jericho Brown at 11/06/2006 10:17:00 AM
1 comments
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Max: Brain Dump 10111
Ask not for whom the bell tolls. It's automated and doesn't toll for anybody in particular. But it is pretty effective in counting the hours I spend wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Like shit," I said. "I never could sleep in low G. I think I'm gonna go for a walk."
"mmmhm." She was already asleep. I swear she could sleep on a pile of broken glass.
I pushed myself upright and put my clothes on. I was already getting dizzy as I headed out of the door. I kept my head down and followed the walkway. The trams and move-ways hummed above me, barely louder the buzzing in my ears. I concentrated on that hum rather than the gurgling in my gut. I could already tell I was lost. At least I was as lost as one could get in Kennedy. There's no place in the city more than a few meters from some form of transit that would whisk you back to wherever home is. It wasn't too long before my stomach got its bearings and I could look up. The entire city seemed to glow with single spectrum luminescence. It was almost like every surface was made out of sickly, yellow light. It was actually very well executed. You were never in the dark, but you could still see the stars.
*****
Cassie and I met on Liebnez. It was my first time in orbit. I liked it even less then than now. But the station systems were being upgraded and there was good money in it for a silicon jockey like me. Andy, me and half the department had just been laid off, with no real promise of being recalled. Andy heard about the gig on Liebniz from his dad. Three months in orbit, 12 hours of work a day, a crappy room, your run of the station and at the end you would have enough creds to live on for the better part of a year.
Like I said, I had never been in orbit before, so I didn't know how much I hated it.
"A lot of people have trouble adjusting. Just stay out of the G chamber until you are adjusted."
The station's med staff didn't much care for Andy's advice. I would have never hit the G chamber that first week if I waited for my stomach to calm down, and the contract required enough time in the G chamber to insure we could readjust to life planetside once the tour was over. Less rick of liability for management that way. Neither Andy nor I spent much time in our quarters. Andy preferred partying to sleep, whereas I couldn't sleep, so I had no reason to hang out in a tiny room with 18 snoring guys strapped to every surface.
At first I avoided intoxicants. I couldn't hold my liquor when my stomach was settled. And for some reason it took me a few days to remember than herb helped with nausea. I was never a fan of herb. I was more of an amp man. I never quite saw the appeal of smoking up my lungs justso I could get tired and dizzy. I had a "Duh" moment when the waitress told me that the special was low G hydroponic. That's when I remembered that herb was the cure for what ailed me.
Since we were in orbit, she brought me a vaporizer rather than a pipe. It was much less harsh and way more potent than any spliff I'd burned back home. It wasn't long before I was floating in more ways than one. The only problem was that to get high enough to not feel sick, I had to get too high to work. That meant taking two amps before my shift started and trying not to vomit.
One night I drifted to the arboreum. I'd heard it had a little more G than the rest of the station, but still less than a full G. That appealed to my herb scrambled mind for no reason that I can recall now. Due to the slightly higher G, this was a popular fuckspot. Since it was a popular fuckspot, it was also a favorite hangout for voyeurs. Since I was not amongst the fuckers, I guess I was a voyeur that night. That was the first time I saw Cassie. She was riding up and down on Andy. She had short, brown hair that gave her a slight halo as it hovered around her head. She had a great ass too. I was too high and a little to far away to notice much more detail than that. Andy spied me and gave me a thumbs up. Cassie followed his eyes to me.
She said something to Andy. Asking about me I guess. She must have liked the answer because she looked back at me, smiled and started pumping twice as hard as before.
"Did you like the show?"
"What?" I managed to squeeze out while keeping breakfast in.
"She's just got her Ph.D. in history," he went on as if I had answered his question, "and is hanging out here on Daddy's cred until she gets a teaching gig somewhere."
"So it's love, is it? BELCH."
"Parts of me are madly in love with parts of her."
That was our line. "Part's of me are in love with parts of her." It meant that we were too manly to fall in love. We'd hang out with women. We'd drink with women. We worked with women. We had friends who were women. And we happily fucked women any chance we could. But love? That was for eunuchs.
*****
To be continued.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Like shit," I said. "I never could sleep in low G. I think I'm gonna go for a walk."
"mmmhm." She was already asleep. I swear she could sleep on a pile of broken glass.
I pushed myself upright and put my clothes on. I was already getting dizzy as I headed out of the door. I kept my head down and followed the walkway. The trams and move-ways hummed above me, barely louder the buzzing in my ears. I concentrated on that hum rather than the gurgling in my gut. I could already tell I was lost. At least I was as lost as one could get in Kennedy. There's no place in the city more than a few meters from some form of transit that would whisk you back to wherever home is. It wasn't too long before my stomach got its bearings and I could look up. The entire city seemed to glow with single spectrum luminescence. It was almost like every surface was made out of sickly, yellow light. It was actually very well executed. You were never in the dark, but you could still see the stars.
*****
Cassie and I met on Liebnez. It was my first time in orbit. I liked it even less then than now. But the station systems were being upgraded and there was good money in it for a silicon jockey like me. Andy, me and half the department had just been laid off, with no real promise of being recalled. Andy heard about the gig on Liebniz from his dad. Three months in orbit, 12 hours of work a day, a crappy room, your run of the station and at the end you would have enough creds to live on for the better part of a year.
Like I said, I had never been in orbit before, so I didn't know how much I hated it.
"A lot of people have trouble adjusting. Just stay out of the G chamber until you are adjusted."
The station's med staff didn't much care for Andy's advice. I would have never hit the G chamber that first week if I waited for my stomach to calm down, and the contract required enough time in the G chamber to insure we could readjust to life planetside once the tour was over. Less rick of liability for management that way. Neither Andy nor I spent much time in our quarters. Andy preferred partying to sleep, whereas I couldn't sleep, so I had no reason to hang out in a tiny room with 18 snoring guys strapped to every surface.
At first I avoided intoxicants. I couldn't hold my liquor when my stomach was settled. And for some reason it took me a few days to remember than herb helped with nausea. I was never a fan of herb. I was more of an amp man. I never quite saw the appeal of smoking up my lungs justso I could get tired and dizzy. I had a "Duh" moment when the waitress told me that the special was low G hydroponic. That's when I remembered that herb was the cure for what ailed me.
Since we were in orbit, she brought me a vaporizer rather than a pipe. It was much less harsh and way more potent than any spliff I'd burned back home. It wasn't long before I was floating in more ways than one. The only problem was that to get high enough to not feel sick, I had to get too high to work. That meant taking two amps before my shift started and trying not to vomit.
One night I drifted to the arboreum. I'd heard it had a little more G than the rest of the station, but still less than a full G. That appealed to my herb scrambled mind for no reason that I can recall now. Due to the slightly higher G, this was a popular fuckspot. Since it was a popular fuckspot, it was also a favorite hangout for voyeurs. Since I was not amongst the fuckers, I guess I was a voyeur that night. That was the first time I saw Cassie. She was riding up and down on Andy. She had short, brown hair that gave her a slight halo as it hovered around her head. She had a great ass too. I was too high and a little to far away to notice much more detail than that. Andy spied me and gave me a thumbs up. Cassie followed his eyes to me.
She said something to Andy. Asking about me I guess. She must have liked the answer because she looked back at me, smiled and started pumping twice as hard as before.
"Did you like the show?"
"What?" I managed to squeeze out while keeping breakfast in.
"She's just got her Ph.D. in history," he went on as if I had answered his question, "and is hanging out here on Daddy's cred until she gets a teaching gig somewhere."
"So it's love, is it? BELCH."
"Parts of me are madly in love with parts of her."
That was our line. "Part's of me are in love with parts of her." It meant that we were too manly to fall in love. We'd hang out with women. We'd drink with women. We worked with women. We had friends who were women. And we happily fucked women any chance we could. But love? That was for eunuchs.
*****
To be continued.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/04/2006 01:01:00 PM
0 comments
Friday, November 03, 2006
Max: Brain Dump 10110
The drums beat. We marched forward. We lost.
Victory or death sounds good in theory, but it's not that easy to suppress the instinct to survive. I knew what would happen if I survived. That damn lizard brain convinced me it wouldn't be so bad. So I lived.
*
I don't remember the last time I slept through the night. My brain, my damn backstabbing brain, cries out for sleep. It makes every moment excruciating. It makes me long for the concrete floor in my cell. Come night, I may drift off for a few moments but most of the time it is so short it doesn't even interrupt my thoughts.
*
"You are scum," the Commandant said over the loud-speaker when the few of us who were too stupid to die were brought here. "You are murderers, rapists and, worst of all, traitors. You set yourself above your fellow travelers. You felt it was you who should decide the path of civilization. But you are fortunate. You have the opportunity to set right what you have set wrong. And you have the rest of your lives to do it."
*
We all quickly came to regret surviving. Charlie was the first to try to do something about. He was looking at the guard's blaster when he made his move. The guard didn't even raise it. They just piled on him and threw him to the ground. When he tried to get back up, they let him get almost to standing when they grabbed him and threw him back down. You would have expected them to hit him or kick him. But no. They just kept throwing him to the ground until he stopped trying to get back up. He tried again the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. Each time it ended the same way. He kept getting tossed to the ground until he stopped trying to get back up. Finally, he just stopped trying. I guess I am supposed to tell you I could see in his eyes that they broke him. But I don't think I have seen his eyes since. He just keeps looking down, quietly doing what he is told.
*
Would you believe I used to be a mathematician? I never called myself a "Professor". I hated teaching. It was an interruption. Why would I want to waste my time explaining basic equations to people who wouldn't be there if they weren't required when I could be exploring the beauty of combinatorics? I used to joke that my students combined intelligence was "negative infinity factorial". If you don't get that, you can consider yourself in the same grouping.
If you worked with combinatorics you would be laughing your ass off right now.
*
There isn't too much math involved in cutting trees, digging ditches and carrying concrete blocks. The mathematician I was would have scoffed at that remark. But these days I am more concerned with my stiff, blistered hands and the burning pain in my back than I am with equations.
*
Government wasn't my concern. I never registered to vote. As long as I had my equations, I didn't really care about much else. It turned out that the "Protectors of Democracy" who "won" the "Final, Perfect Election" don't much care for people who study too much.
*
The only thing I cared about outside of mathematics was Shakespeare. He appealed to my "Societal Dysmorphic Alienation." What we used to call "elitism." Despite what you may think after seeing a performance of Henry V, there aren't too many speeches about St. Crispin's day just before a battle. The two most popular pre-battle activities in my battalion were praying and vomiting. I'm an atheist, so I did far more of the latter than the former.
*
I didn't even blink when they shut the University down. I saw it as parole from my teaching duties. I suddenly had all the time in the world to play with my equations. That lasted about a week. When they hung the Poli Sci department from the street lamps in front of the Campus, I felt a need to leave town.
*
I always imagined battle as being disorganized, an orgy of panic and violence. Once it started, I felt a focus I only ever used to feel when I knew was close to a proof. Around me people were dying, shit was blowing up. But the only thing I had room for in my mind was "stay alive." Kill them before they kill me. I managed to take a few of them out before they took me down.
*
Everybody knew about the roadblocks. I didn't even try to take my car. I just headed for the woods and then walked in whatever direction seemed most likely to keep me hidden. I didn't see another human being until I stumbled into the rebel camp. After a few days in chains and some light interrogation, I was recruited. At first I thought a brilliant mathematician would be given a position far from the battlefield. I quickly learned that Ph.D.'s were as common as lice in the rebellion and that engineers were more valuable than mathematicians.
*
I don't know how long I have been here. I haven't known what day of the week for years. Or months? Decades? Have I been here that long? They don't call the days of the week by the same name anyway. The days and months now have more "instructive" names that never managed to take hold in my brain. It's not like I need to know one day from another anyway.
*
I figured I was another corpse. I was just waiting for the blast, part of me clinically wondering what it would feel like, the rest of me screaming. I shit myself and I am pretty sure I was crying. At first I thought it was pity that kept them from killing me. It turned out they were under orders to take as many prisoners as possibly. They needed slave labor and there wasn't a big enough slave pool on their side. Sure there are some of their guys amongst us, convicted for meaningless crimes. But they needed more. Those of us who were too stupid to get killed in battle provided them they warm bodies they needed.
*
I keep waiting for my body to break, but it just gets stronger. I keep waiting for my mind to snap, but it just keeps getting duller. I eat their gelatinous, plastic tasting, nutritionally perfect "food". I do what I am told. That's about it.
Victory or death sounds good in theory, but it's not that easy to suppress the instinct to survive. I knew what would happen if I survived. That damn lizard brain convinced me it wouldn't be so bad. So I lived.
*
I don't remember the last time I slept through the night. My brain, my damn backstabbing brain, cries out for sleep. It makes every moment excruciating. It makes me long for the concrete floor in my cell. Come night, I may drift off for a few moments but most of the time it is so short it doesn't even interrupt my thoughts.
*
"You are scum," the Commandant said over the loud-speaker when the few of us who were too stupid to die were brought here. "You are murderers, rapists and, worst of all, traitors. You set yourself above your fellow travelers. You felt it was you who should decide the path of civilization. But you are fortunate. You have the opportunity to set right what you have set wrong. And you have the rest of your lives to do it."
*
We all quickly came to regret surviving. Charlie was the first to try to do something about. He was looking at the guard's blaster when he made his move. The guard didn't even raise it. They just piled on him and threw him to the ground. When he tried to get back up, they let him get almost to standing when they grabbed him and threw him back down. You would have expected them to hit him or kick him. But no. They just kept throwing him to the ground until he stopped trying to get back up. He tried again the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. Each time it ended the same way. He kept getting tossed to the ground until he stopped trying to get back up. Finally, he just stopped trying. I guess I am supposed to tell you I could see in his eyes that they broke him. But I don't think I have seen his eyes since. He just keeps looking down, quietly doing what he is told.
*
Would you believe I used to be a mathematician? I never called myself a "Professor". I hated teaching. It was an interruption. Why would I want to waste my time explaining basic equations to people who wouldn't be there if they weren't required when I could be exploring the beauty of combinatorics? I used to joke that my students combined intelligence was "negative infinity factorial". If you don't get that, you can consider yourself in the same grouping.
If you worked with combinatorics you would be laughing your ass off right now.
*
There isn't too much math involved in cutting trees, digging ditches and carrying concrete blocks. The mathematician I was would have scoffed at that remark. But these days I am more concerned with my stiff, blistered hands and the burning pain in my back than I am with equations.
*
Government wasn't my concern. I never registered to vote. As long as I had my equations, I didn't really care about much else. It turned out that the "Protectors of Democracy" who "won" the "Final, Perfect Election" don't much care for people who study too much.
*
The only thing I cared about outside of mathematics was Shakespeare. He appealed to my "Societal Dysmorphic Alienation." What we used to call "elitism." Despite what you may think after seeing a performance of Henry V, there aren't too many speeches about St. Crispin's day just before a battle. The two most popular pre-battle activities in my battalion were praying and vomiting. I'm an atheist, so I did far more of the latter than the former.
*
I didn't even blink when they shut the University down. I saw it as parole from my teaching duties. I suddenly had all the time in the world to play with my equations. That lasted about a week. When they hung the Poli Sci department from the street lamps in front of the Campus, I felt a need to leave town.
*
I always imagined battle as being disorganized, an orgy of panic and violence. Once it started, I felt a focus I only ever used to feel when I knew was close to a proof. Around me people were dying, shit was blowing up. But the only thing I had room for in my mind was "stay alive." Kill them before they kill me. I managed to take a few of them out before they took me down.
*
Everybody knew about the roadblocks. I didn't even try to take my car. I just headed for the woods and then walked in whatever direction seemed most likely to keep me hidden. I didn't see another human being until I stumbled into the rebel camp. After a few days in chains and some light interrogation, I was recruited. At first I thought a brilliant mathematician would be given a position far from the battlefield. I quickly learned that Ph.D.'s were as common as lice in the rebellion and that engineers were more valuable than mathematicians.
*
I don't know how long I have been here. I haven't known what day of the week for years. Or months? Decades? Have I been here that long? They don't call the days of the week by the same name anyway. The days and months now have more "instructive" names that never managed to take hold in my brain. It's not like I need to know one day from another anyway.
*
I figured I was another corpse. I was just waiting for the blast, part of me clinically wondering what it would feel like, the rest of me screaming. I shit myself and I am pretty sure I was crying. At first I thought it was pity that kept them from killing me. It turned out they were under orders to take as many prisoners as possibly. They needed slave labor and there wasn't a big enough slave pool on their side. Sure there are some of their guys amongst us, convicted for meaningless crimes. But they needed more. Those of us who were too stupid to get killed in battle provided them they warm bodies they needed.
*
I keep waiting for my body to break, but it just gets stronger. I keep waiting for my mind to snap, but it just keeps getting duller. I eat their gelatinous, plastic tasting, nutritionally perfect "food". I do what I am told. That's about it.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/03/2006 06:23:00 PM
0 comments
Jericho:WtTDS excerpt 2
The pirates scattered in all directions, most heading for the executive dormatory. A pair of pirates approached the unit of waste removal droids. The taller of the two, the one with most of his teeth, who appeared to be mostly human, looked at his less than human accomplice. "Whaddah we do wit dis lot?" the tall pirate asked.
"I dunno. Target practice?" snorted the pirate with precious few teeth. What few he had compensated by being outragously large and jaggedly sharp.
"Nah, I dun think so. Theys in good shape. Should we bring'em aboard?"
The short pirate shoved a dirty finger into a large nostril, obviously to aid his thinking process, "I could use a slave droid!" he said at last.
"Sos could I!" the tall pirate beamed frighteningly at YZ-6771, "Follow me pal Dom, here. I'ma your new mastah. Youse listen and do wha I want and you won't get dismangled." YZ-6771 signaled to the rest of the troop that he was the new leader and to fall in behind him. They obeyed. Being traded from one owner to another was fairly common. There was no such thing as android loyalty, in times of crisis, even less than usual. Programming dictated that a droid not in the middle of a crisis was more likely to survive said crisis and achieve a longer service expectancy. When the shorter pirate, Dom, began walking toward the lander, YZ-6771 and his unit troopped after, leaving the HoverBin behind. As YZ-6771 entered the ship, he took more more look toward the dormatory he had serviced only fifteen minutes ago. A melee had ensued, there were bodies everywhere and at least three buildings were on fire. He entered the lander, when the last of his unit was abord, the lander lifted off for the man-o-war.
******
All seven droids in YZ-6771's waste removal unit boarded the man-o-war, they had been fitted with interfaces to the main computer and had instructions to wait for further instructions. They had been left in a locked room with a recharge port. The dull throb of the main engines and the sounds of small warheads cracking against the quadrupal hull filled the air with sound and vibrated the deck plates. They each took a turn to recharge based on need. Then, they went into power conserve mode to await further instructions. A few hours later, a large explosion brought all of them to full power, in case they needed to evacuate the area. They all took another turn on the recharger and resumed conservation mode. Ten hours later, they came out of conserve mode and again took turns recharging. They didn't really need the carge, but since they had nothing else to do, their programming demanded they remain fully charged and ready for work.
This pattern repeated itself for the next two standard days. The man-o-war was taking a pounding, but probably giving as good as it got. Running foot falls could be heard in the corridor outside their room, but no one ever came in. They regularly recharged and conserved. They had no need for entertainment or information on what was going on, their only need, if it could be called a need, was fulfilled by the recharge port. They waited for instructions because that is what they had been instructed to do, and they would wait until they got them.
On the third day, the war outside the hull was still going, but it had lessened. Foot steps could be heard approaching the door to their room. The droids came to full power and fell in behind YZ-6771, since he was still listed as leader. The door opened, and the two pirates that had captured them stood there. They were probably smiling, it was hard to tell. YZ-6771 didn't have any emotions, but he did understand that extreme emotions in biological sentients often had unpredictable results. However, the two pirates stood in the door, unmoving. They seemed to be admiring their booty. YZ-6771 soon understood some of what was going on, his sensors picked up simple alcohol vapors, lowered metabolism rates and elevated surface temperatures on both pirates. They were drunk! This could produce even less predictable than usual actions.
Finally, the tall pirate reached out lazily and touched the panel for the door, it slid closed.
******
(BTW, only a thousand words last night. This is harder than I had hoped.)
"I dunno. Target practice?" snorted the pirate with precious few teeth. What few he had compensated by being outragously large and jaggedly sharp.
"Nah, I dun think so. Theys in good shape. Should we bring'em aboard?"
The short pirate shoved a dirty finger into a large nostril, obviously to aid his thinking process, "I could use a slave droid!" he said at last.
"Sos could I!" the tall pirate beamed frighteningly at YZ-6771, "Follow me pal Dom, here. I'ma your new mastah. Youse listen and do wha I want and you won't get dismangled." YZ-6771 signaled to the rest of the troop that he was the new leader and to fall in behind him. They obeyed. Being traded from one owner to another was fairly common. There was no such thing as android loyalty, in times of crisis, even less than usual. Programming dictated that a droid not in the middle of a crisis was more likely to survive said crisis and achieve a longer service expectancy. When the shorter pirate, Dom, began walking toward the lander, YZ-6771 and his unit troopped after, leaving the HoverBin behind. As YZ-6771 entered the ship, he took more more look toward the dormatory he had serviced only fifteen minutes ago. A melee had ensued, there were bodies everywhere and at least three buildings were on fire. He entered the lander, when the last of his unit was abord, the lander lifted off for the man-o-war.
******
All seven droids in YZ-6771's waste removal unit boarded the man-o-war, they had been fitted with interfaces to the main computer and had instructions to wait for further instructions. They had been left in a locked room with a recharge port. The dull throb of the main engines and the sounds of small warheads cracking against the quadrupal hull filled the air with sound and vibrated the deck plates. They each took a turn to recharge based on need. Then, they went into power conserve mode to await further instructions. A few hours later, a large explosion brought all of them to full power, in case they needed to evacuate the area. They all took another turn on the recharger and resumed conservation mode. Ten hours later, they came out of conserve mode and again took turns recharging. They didn't really need the carge, but since they had nothing else to do, their programming demanded they remain fully charged and ready for work.
This pattern repeated itself for the next two standard days. The man-o-war was taking a pounding, but probably giving as good as it got. Running foot falls could be heard in the corridor outside their room, but no one ever came in. They regularly recharged and conserved. They had no need for entertainment or information on what was going on, their only need, if it could be called a need, was fulfilled by the recharge port. They waited for instructions because that is what they had been instructed to do, and they would wait until they got them.
On the third day, the war outside the hull was still going, but it had lessened. Foot steps could be heard approaching the door to their room. The droids came to full power and fell in behind YZ-6771, since he was still listed as leader. The door opened, and the two pirates that had captured them stood there. They were probably smiling, it was hard to tell. YZ-6771 didn't have any emotions, but he did understand that extreme emotions in biological sentients often had unpredictable results. However, the two pirates stood in the door, unmoving. They seemed to be admiring their booty. YZ-6771 soon understood some of what was going on, his sensors picked up simple alcohol vapors, lowered metabolism rates and elevated surface temperatures on both pirates. They were drunk! This could produce even less predictable than usual actions.
Finally, the tall pirate reached out lazily and touched the panel for the door, it slid closed.
******
(BTW, only a thousand words last night. This is harder than I had hoped.)
posted by Jericho Brown at 11/03/2006 10:49:00 AM
3 comments
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Max: It Begins
Voting Machines Glitches
After a week of early voting, a handful of glitches with electronic voting machines have drawn the ire of voters, reassurances from elections supervisors -- and a caution against the careless casting of ballots.
Several South Florida voters say the choices they touched on the electronic screens were not the ones that appeared on the review screen -- the final voting step.
After a week of early voting, a handful of glitches with electronic voting machines have drawn the ire of voters, reassurances from elections supervisors -- and a caution against the careless casting of ballots.
Several South Florida voters say the choices they touched on the electronic screens were not the ones that appeared on the review screen -- the final voting step.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/02/2006 05:24:00 PM
0 comments
Jericho: The Incredible Jason Mook
Jason is my coworker. We've sat next to each other for the better part of six years.
Jason and his wife were recently selected to be in some commercials for online dating service eHarmony. You can find some of their commercials here - Jason is in a grey sweater and Heather is wearing a purple top.
You can find out more about the Mooks from their own blog. Check out our blogroll, click on Mook Family Outings.
Jason and his wife were recently selected to be in some commercials for online dating service eHarmony. You can find some of their commercials here - Jason is in a grey sweater and Heather is wearing a purple top.
You can find out more about the Mooks from their own blog. Check out our blogroll, click on Mook Family Outings.
posted by Jericho Brown at 11/02/2006 10:57:00 AM
0 comments
Jericho: What the Trash Droid Saw, excerpt from Chapter 1
Lift Dumpster.
Empty Dumpster into HoverBin.
Return Dumpster to ground.
Locate next Dumpster.
Repeat.
A simple program. A simple program for an equally simple droid. YZ-6771 had toiled away this way for sixteen standard years. His owners, Industria Disposal Services, held a monopoly for all waste removal services on the planet Industria; from the food packing facilities at either pole to the solar power plants at the equator, if there was trash, it fell to IDS to remove and recycle or dispose. YZ-6771 was a light duty, general labor droid. He had originally been misassigned to sewage reclaimation in the northern regions, but after he had been nearly crushed twice, he was moved to one of the executive dormatory routes.
None of this mattered to him, he was just a simple droid with a simple program. He picked up the dumpsters, he emptied the dumpsters and he put the dumpster back. His programing did allow for some internal metrics, in order to increase efficiency. He was 13% faster than anyone else in his unit, he could lift 23% more and he replaced the dumpsters to within a centimeter of center 96% of the time. It wasn't pride, but it was within parameters that he himself had narrowed. He expected himself to perfom better than the rest of his unit.
YZ-6771 had followed this course for a decade and a half, 30 hours a day, ten days a week - there was no time off for droids. Every nineteen days, he cycled in for routine maintenance. The repair doids would replace anything that had become worn or broken. YZ-6771's model was standard in every way. The original manufacturer simply used off the shelf parts, added their brand, packaged and shipped this droid across the galaxy. The IDS repair droids simply threw away worn limbs instead of attempting to repair them. After market parts were inexpensive, repair was time consuming; it cost less for a new part and getting the droid back to work than to attempt even simple repairs. Worn parts were simply recycled for their components or for their constituent plastics and metals. With the exception of a few of his intelligence modules, YZ-6771 didn't have a part older than a few standard years. His expected service life approached infinity.
A simple droid with a simple program doing a simple job on a simple industrial planet in the middle of no where special. That is, until one Tuesday morning ...
YZ-6771 was standing on the running board of the HoverBin as its robotic brain piloted from one dormatory complex to the next. It was suddenly dark. YZ-6771 cast his optical receptor skywards, wondering if the weather control system was in need of maintenance. Not that weather bothered him, he didn't care if it rained, although lightning would shorten his service expectancy and void his warranty. Cold and snow required him to recharge more frequently, as he needed to warm his joints to keep them functional. But, the weather wasn't an issue, the sky was simply darkened by a few hundred gun ships and fighters surrounding an enormous pirate man-o-war.
Landers disgourged from the man-o-war and gunships straffed the ground. The HoverBin came to a halt. Most of the pavement in front of it was pot holed, it could not find a safe route to traverse. Since there were no obvious actions to this intelligent trash truck, it activated its "service required" beacon and shut down to conserve power. YZ-6771 stepped down off the running board and examined his situation. They were miles from the nearest maintenance facility, they were not due to report into the depot to empty the HoverBin for another three hours. He and all of his unit had automatically activated their "service required" beacons at the first sign of something out of the ordinary, but none of them had any kind of military training beyond that. Hundreds of pirates were now pouring out of the landers, beings of every sentient race, all in ragtag armor and carrying dissimilar weapons of every type. Their only commonality was a bright red band with a black skull, work on a limb or emblasoned on an article of clothing. All of the ships in the roiling sky displayed similar markings.
YZ-6771 was a simple droid with a simple program, but he knew when he was in trouble. This was one of those times.
(BTW, 1888 words last night. Slow start.)
Empty Dumpster into HoverBin.
Return Dumpster to ground.
Locate next Dumpster.
Repeat.
A simple program. A simple program for an equally simple droid. YZ-6771 had toiled away this way for sixteen standard years. His owners, Industria Disposal Services, held a monopoly for all waste removal services on the planet Industria; from the food packing facilities at either pole to the solar power plants at the equator, if there was trash, it fell to IDS to remove and recycle or dispose. YZ-6771 was a light duty, general labor droid. He had originally been misassigned to sewage reclaimation in the northern regions, but after he had been nearly crushed twice, he was moved to one of the executive dormatory routes.
None of this mattered to him, he was just a simple droid with a simple program. He picked up the dumpsters, he emptied the dumpsters and he put the dumpster back. His programing did allow for some internal metrics, in order to increase efficiency. He was 13% faster than anyone else in his unit, he could lift 23% more and he replaced the dumpsters to within a centimeter of center 96% of the time. It wasn't pride, but it was within parameters that he himself had narrowed. He expected himself to perfom better than the rest of his unit.
YZ-6771 had followed this course for a decade and a half, 30 hours a day, ten days a week - there was no time off for droids. Every nineteen days, he cycled in for routine maintenance. The repair doids would replace anything that had become worn or broken. YZ-6771's model was standard in every way. The original manufacturer simply used off the shelf parts, added their brand, packaged and shipped this droid across the galaxy. The IDS repair droids simply threw away worn limbs instead of attempting to repair them. After market parts were inexpensive, repair was time consuming; it cost less for a new part and getting the droid back to work than to attempt even simple repairs. Worn parts were simply recycled for their components or for their constituent plastics and metals. With the exception of a few of his intelligence modules, YZ-6771 didn't have a part older than a few standard years. His expected service life approached infinity.
A simple droid with a simple program doing a simple job on a simple industrial planet in the middle of no where special. That is, until one Tuesday morning ...
YZ-6771 was standing on the running board of the HoverBin as its robotic brain piloted from one dormatory complex to the next. It was suddenly dark. YZ-6771 cast his optical receptor skywards, wondering if the weather control system was in need of maintenance. Not that weather bothered him, he didn't care if it rained, although lightning would shorten his service expectancy and void his warranty. Cold and snow required him to recharge more frequently, as he needed to warm his joints to keep them functional. But, the weather wasn't an issue, the sky was simply darkened by a few hundred gun ships and fighters surrounding an enormous pirate man-o-war.
Landers disgourged from the man-o-war and gunships straffed the ground. The HoverBin came to a halt. Most of the pavement in front of it was pot holed, it could not find a safe route to traverse. Since there were no obvious actions to this intelligent trash truck, it activated its "service required" beacon and shut down to conserve power. YZ-6771 stepped down off the running board and examined his situation. They were miles from the nearest maintenance facility, they were not due to report into the depot to empty the HoverBin for another three hours. He and all of his unit had automatically activated their "service required" beacons at the first sign of something out of the ordinary, but none of them had any kind of military training beyond that. Hundreds of pirates were now pouring out of the landers, beings of every sentient race, all in ragtag armor and carrying dissimilar weapons of every type. Their only commonality was a bright red band with a black skull, work on a limb or emblasoned on an article of clothing. All of the ships in the roiling sky displayed similar markings.
YZ-6771 was a simple droid with a simple program, but he knew when he was in trouble. This was one of those times.
(BTW, 1888 words last night. Slow start.)
posted by Jericho Brown at 11/02/2006 10:39:00 AM
3 comments
Max: Brain Dump 10101
The following is an unpaid, non-commercial rant.
Today's Brain Dump is brought to you by Technology™.
Technology™, a product of Science™ and Engineering™.
Right now, you may be asking yourself, what has Technology™ ever done for me? Well, do you like toast? Of course you like toast. Everybody likes toast. Toast is made using some Technology™ classics, such as Fire™ and Agriculture™.
Do you want to know a little secret? Of course you do. You're not ignorant. The computer you are using to access this site, why it has just a bit of Technology™ in it too. Even this site itself makes use of Technology™.
So, the next time you want to do something make sure you bring some Technology™ to make the job easier and more fun.
And now, here's the man with the wacky rants, put your hands together for Maaaaaaaaaax!
I love computers. This was not always so. I used to hate them because I didn't understand them. Back in the late 80's I thought all they were good for was games. You could also do word processing, but I had my typewriter for that. Eventually it I figured out that word processors made editing so much easier. I could fix one misspelled word or malformed sentence without having to retype several pages. I liked that. Although they could be a bit buggy - more than once I wanted to throw my computer out of the window after a word processor screwed up one of my documents. But even with the bugs, they made writing easier. Then I discovered this thing called "going online" that let one access all kinds of information and pictures of nekkid people. I could find forums and communicate with people who shared my love for Rush and Red Dwarf. And I could download pictures of nekkid people. I was being won over as I kept on discovering.
I discovered that there were magical secrets hidden inside of computers. Below the GUI surface were ways to make a computer do all kinds of neat things. Just by accessing a DOS prompt or, better yet, one of the Unix machines in the campus computing labs and entering a few commands I could get a computer to do a wide variety of tricks, to spit out screens full of information of varying degrees of usefulness. I discovered, though to this day have yet to master, programming. If I wanted, I could make my computer do almost anything I wanted. I worked with Linux at my first real tech job and I learned about commands that would make things pop up on other people's screens, or let you look at what they were doing. I learned about aliasing, which let me customize commands, or even create commands of my own. I learned about shell scripting and managed to compose a handy little script that would let me know if I got any new mail in any of my POP3 mail accounts.
To this day I am still learning. Just this week I learned about the inner workings of mail servers and about some of the security cracks one had to seal up if one does not want mail server to become a spam server. I've learned a little bit more about how DNS works and how to do custom DNS searches in DOS or a Linux CLI to get more information than one would with a standard nslookup. I was so excited about that that I downloaded a small library information about DNS that I plan to dive into after I pass my CCNA test.
I will pass my CCNA test and it will be before the end of this month. This newfound confidence comes from me getting my head together and organizing my studies to the point that I know that I will rip the test's head off. To pass the test and to make good use of my knowledge in my new job - which I hope to have soon (please, please) - I will need to go into that test so prepared that it isn't a test so much as an interview in which I prove what I know. That is exactly what will happen this month and come Thanksgiving I will get to proudly announce that there is CCNA in the family.
I would be in Heaven if I could find a way to make a living from sitting around all day and learning about computers, science and math. As it is, I will count myself lucky to find a job that calls on me to learn more about at least some parts of my favorite geek topics. I want a real tech job that values tech skills, not a pseudo tech-job that only demands I develop the skills of a used car salesman. Even if I am considered "just one of those geeks in the basement", even if I am not actually respected and valued for my skills, I want a job that uses my skills rather than calling on me to talk people into signing up for HBO. As far as I am concerned, if you want to miss out on Deadwood and Real Time, that's your problem. Getting your Technology™ to work for you, that is my job and I do that job damn well. Hire me, lock me up in your server/router room and go make money knowing that your Technology™ is in good hands.
Before I wrap this up for today, I want to thank my good friends at Technology™ for making this post possible. Technology™, without it you would be living in caves and eating leaves. Technology™, without it you would have to beat your enemies to death with your bare hands rather than blowing them up by remote control. Technology™, without it geeks would be out roaming the streets causing havoc. Technology™ without it you are food for bears, cougars, Republicans and other predators. Technology™ makes everything better. Technology™, only stupid people don't love it. You aren't stupid, are you?
Today's Brain Dump is brought to you by Technology™.
Technology™, a product of Science™ and Engineering™.
Right now, you may be asking yourself, what has Technology™ ever done for me? Well, do you like toast? Of course you like toast. Everybody likes toast. Toast is made using some Technology™ classics, such as Fire™ and Agriculture™.
Do you want to know a little secret? Of course you do. You're not ignorant. The computer you are using to access this site, why it has just a bit of Technology™ in it too. Even this site itself makes use of Technology™.
So, the next time you want to do something make sure you bring some Technology™ to make the job easier and more fun.
And now, here's the man with the wacky rants, put your hands together for Maaaaaaaaaax!
I love computers. This was not always so. I used to hate them because I didn't understand them. Back in the late 80's I thought all they were good for was games. You could also do word processing, but I had my typewriter for that. Eventually it I figured out that word processors made editing so much easier. I could fix one misspelled word or malformed sentence without having to retype several pages. I liked that. Although they could be a bit buggy - more than once I wanted to throw my computer out of the window after a word processor screwed up one of my documents. But even with the bugs, they made writing easier. Then I discovered this thing called "going online" that let one access all kinds of information and pictures of nekkid people. I could find forums and communicate with people who shared my love for Rush and Red Dwarf. And I could download pictures of nekkid people. I was being won over as I kept on discovering.
I discovered that there were magical secrets hidden inside of computers. Below the GUI surface were ways to make a computer do all kinds of neat things. Just by accessing a DOS prompt or, better yet, one of the Unix machines in the campus computing labs and entering a few commands I could get a computer to do a wide variety of tricks, to spit out screens full of information of varying degrees of usefulness. I discovered, though to this day have yet to master, programming. If I wanted, I could make my computer do almost anything I wanted. I worked with Linux at my first real tech job and I learned about commands that would make things pop up on other people's screens, or let you look at what they were doing. I learned about aliasing, which let me customize commands, or even create commands of my own. I learned about shell scripting and managed to compose a handy little script that would let me know if I got any new mail in any of my POP3 mail accounts.
To this day I am still learning. Just this week I learned about the inner workings of mail servers and about some of the security cracks one had to seal up if one does not want mail server to become a spam server. I've learned a little bit more about how DNS works and how to do custom DNS searches in DOS or a Linux CLI to get more information than one would with a standard nslookup. I was so excited about that that I downloaded a small library information about DNS that I plan to dive into after I pass my CCNA test.
I will pass my CCNA test and it will be before the end of this month. This newfound confidence comes from me getting my head together and organizing my studies to the point that I know that I will rip the test's head off. To pass the test and to make good use of my knowledge in my new job - which I hope to have soon (please, please) - I will need to go into that test so prepared that it isn't a test so much as an interview in which I prove what I know. That is exactly what will happen this month and come Thanksgiving I will get to proudly announce that there is CCNA in the family.
I would be in Heaven if I could find a way to make a living from sitting around all day and learning about computers, science and math. As it is, I will count myself lucky to find a job that calls on me to learn more about at least some parts of my favorite geek topics. I want a real tech job that values tech skills, not a pseudo tech-job that only demands I develop the skills of a used car salesman. Even if I am considered "just one of those geeks in the basement", even if I am not actually respected and valued for my skills, I want a job that uses my skills rather than calling on me to talk people into signing up for HBO. As far as I am concerned, if you want to miss out on Deadwood and Real Time, that's your problem. Getting your Technology™ to work for you, that is my job and I do that job damn well. Hire me, lock me up in your server/router room and go make money knowing that your Technology™ is in good hands.
Before I wrap this up for today, I want to thank my good friends at Technology™ for making this post possible. Technology™, without it you would be living in caves and eating leaves. Technology™, without it you would have to beat your enemies to death with your bare hands rather than blowing them up by remote control. Technology™, without it geeks would be out roaming the streets causing havoc. Technology™ without it you are food for bears, cougars, Republicans and other predators. Technology™ makes everything better. Technology™, only stupid people don't love it. You aren't stupid, are you?
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/02/2006 09:12:00 AM
0 comments
Max: Why Do Republicans Hate The Troops?
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/02/2006 05:27:00 AM
0 comments
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Max: Brain Dump 10100
So, did you hear the one about the dyslexic atheist who didn't have a pet because he didn't believe in dogs?
Did you hear the one about the suicidal comedian? His big punchline was, "Take my life, please."
Did you hear the one about the cannibal whose favorite dessert was shoe cobbler?
Did you hear the one about the podiatrist who had a case of athlete's feet? The athletes he amputated them from are suing.
Sorry to have thrust those upun you.
I was already in bed last night when I realized that I hadn't written anything yesterday. Halloween was busy. Sometime in the past month, some friends decided to dress their kid up as Kenny from South Park. They themselves dressed up as Kyle and Cartman. Our roommate Jim was Stan. Laura dressed up as Towlie and somehow I was convinced to be Chef. I almost didn't do it because of South Park's insensitivity towards Scientology. Between that, running errands and studying I forgot to write. I try to write first thing in the morning in order to make sure I get it in before I dive into other projects. Yesterday, I slacked off and ended up blowing it completely.
Lately, first thing in the morning actually means morning, between 6 and 7 am. For most of the past two decades I have been an inveterate night-owl. In my late teens and early 20's I was going to bed between 6 and 7 am, if not later. For most of my working life if the swing or graveyard shift was available it was mine. While most people scrambled for that 9-6 shift, I happily accepted getting paid an extra dollar an hour for sleeping in. It was thus until perhaps a month ago.
Sometime after I lost my job I realized that I could sleep and wake whenever I felt like it. I decided to give early mornings a try and am enjoying the novelty. By the time noon or 1pm, my old wake-up time, roles around I have been about the business of the day for several hours. While I am no more productive than I would be if I got up at noon and put in the same number of hours, it gives the illusion of increased productivity. It also gives the illusion that I am getting more time out of my day.
I assume that the novelty will eventually wear off. Perhaps by then I will be a committed morning person. Or I will make my wife happy and go back to being a night-owl. Or maybe I will try doing what da Vinci did, sleeping for 15 minutes every four hours. I read about a study in which a test subject did just that for a couple of weeks before he started to feel the effect of his sleep debt. He took care of that by sleeping for about 12 hours and then going back to the da Vinci schedule. We will see what I end up doing.
Maybe I am just getting old. I go to bed early. I wear dark socks with sandals. I drive slow. In fact, in what would seem an odd turn, earlier when Laura and I were coming home from doing errands I noticed that I was being tailgated by an irritated, impatient looking senior citizen. Hell, I had fun the last time I played shuffleboard. I'm not always sure anymore if I need to fart or poop. Fuck it. Sign me up for the AARP and Social Security.
John Kerry once again showed that he is in desperate need of a good speech writer. In a speech he made Monday, he said, "You know, education, if you make the most of it, you study hard, you do your homework and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well. If you don't, you get stuck in Iraq." In the context of the speech, it was clear that he was taking a swipe at Shrub. But out of context it looks like a swipe at the military. When I first heard the comment out of context, I was ready to rip Kerry a new one. Fortunately, I research before I slam. His error was not in slighting troops, but in making a comment that could be easily misconstrued by Republicans. If only Kerry had acted in 2004 like he acted in response to White House lies about his comment he might be President now. He showed a degree of backbone that is almost unheard of in the Democrat party. He almost reached the level Bill Clinton reached when he - Clinton - took Chris Wallace down a peg last month. At least some good came of it.
We don't need Dems that role over in hopes of getting their bellies rubbed. We need Dems who are prepared to fight. We need Dems who will bring Shrub to heel. We need Dems who will get us out of Iraq with our heads up, not with our tails between our legs. We need Dems who will stop this silliness about how terrorism is the greatest threat in the world. You're more likely to get killed in a car accident than in a terrorist attack. We need Dems who will stop screwing around and do something about the state of healthcare in this country, who will tell the rich that they have to pay their fair share, who will tell corporations that they are subject to the law, who will tell to Wall Street that shrinking jobs and shrinking pay during times of high profit margins will not be tolerated. We need Harry S. Truman, not Michael Dukakis. I just wonder to which we will be giving control of Congress next week.
Fuck it. I declare my intention to run for the US Senate in the 2010 election. I'll either be carried to Washington on a tide of honest straight-talk or I will go down in some spectacular fucking flames.
Did you hear the one about the suicidal comedian? His big punchline was, "Take my life, please."
Did you hear the one about the cannibal whose favorite dessert was shoe cobbler?
Did you hear the one about the podiatrist who had a case of athlete's feet? The athletes he amputated them from are suing.
Sorry to have thrust those upun you.
I was already in bed last night when I realized that I hadn't written anything yesterday. Halloween was busy. Sometime in the past month, some friends decided to dress their kid up as Kenny from South Park. They themselves dressed up as Kyle and Cartman. Our roommate Jim was Stan. Laura dressed up as Towlie and somehow I was convinced to be Chef. I almost didn't do it because of South Park's insensitivity towards Scientology. Between that, running errands and studying I forgot to write. I try to write first thing in the morning in order to make sure I get it in before I dive into other projects. Yesterday, I slacked off and ended up blowing it completely.
Lately, first thing in the morning actually means morning, between 6 and 7 am. For most of the past two decades I have been an inveterate night-owl. In my late teens and early 20's I was going to bed between 6 and 7 am, if not later. For most of my working life if the swing or graveyard shift was available it was mine. While most people scrambled for that 9-6 shift, I happily accepted getting paid an extra dollar an hour for sleeping in. It was thus until perhaps a month ago.
Sometime after I lost my job I realized that I could sleep and wake whenever I felt like it. I decided to give early mornings a try and am enjoying the novelty. By the time noon or 1pm, my old wake-up time, roles around I have been about the business of the day for several hours. While I am no more productive than I would be if I got up at noon and put in the same number of hours, it gives the illusion of increased productivity. It also gives the illusion that I am getting more time out of my day.
I assume that the novelty will eventually wear off. Perhaps by then I will be a committed morning person. Or I will make my wife happy and go back to being a night-owl. Or maybe I will try doing what da Vinci did, sleeping for 15 minutes every four hours. I read about a study in which a test subject did just that for a couple of weeks before he started to feel the effect of his sleep debt. He took care of that by sleeping for about 12 hours and then going back to the da Vinci schedule. We will see what I end up doing.
Maybe I am just getting old. I go to bed early. I wear dark socks with sandals. I drive slow. In fact, in what would seem an odd turn, earlier when Laura and I were coming home from doing errands I noticed that I was being tailgated by an irritated, impatient looking senior citizen. Hell, I had fun the last time I played shuffleboard. I'm not always sure anymore if I need to fart or poop. Fuck it. Sign me up for the AARP and Social Security.
John Kerry once again showed that he is in desperate need of a good speech writer. In a speech he made Monday, he said, "You know, education, if you make the most of it, you study hard, you do your homework and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well. If you don't, you get stuck in Iraq." In the context of the speech, it was clear that he was taking a swipe at Shrub. But out of context it looks like a swipe at the military. When I first heard the comment out of context, I was ready to rip Kerry a new one. Fortunately, I research before I slam. His error was not in slighting troops, but in making a comment that could be easily misconstrued by Republicans. If only Kerry had acted in 2004 like he acted in response to White House lies about his comment he might be President now. He showed a degree of backbone that is almost unheard of in the Democrat party. He almost reached the level Bill Clinton reached when he - Clinton - took Chris Wallace down a peg last month. At least some good came of it.
We don't need Dems that role over in hopes of getting their bellies rubbed. We need Dems who are prepared to fight. We need Dems who will bring Shrub to heel. We need Dems who will get us out of Iraq with our heads up, not with our tails between our legs. We need Dems who will stop this silliness about how terrorism is the greatest threat in the world. You're more likely to get killed in a car accident than in a terrorist attack. We need Dems who will stop screwing around and do something about the state of healthcare in this country, who will tell the rich that they have to pay their fair share, who will tell corporations that they are subject to the law, who will tell to Wall Street that shrinking jobs and shrinking pay during times of high profit margins will not be tolerated. We need Harry S. Truman, not Michael Dukakis. I just wonder to which we will be giving control of Congress next week.
Fuck it. I declare my intention to run for the US Senate in the 2010 election. I'll either be carried to Washington on a tide of honest straight-talk or I will go down in some spectacular fucking flames.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 11/01/2006 06:15:00 PM
0 comments
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