FROM: Dr. Harold F. Stonefield III, Lead Archivist
State Information Directorate - Financial Division
#479302.t.008
TO: Mr. Daniel Kettersby, Contracts and Billing Advisor
Ticks, Tocks, and Locks: Information Transcription and Security Company
#479845.w.009
SUBJECT: THE BURNIING ANGER THAT RIOTS IN MY HEART AGAINST YOU
Mr. Kettersby,
I have contacted you regarding an apparent discrepancy between our respective views of what constitutes professional behavior.
This morning I was informed that a satchel of voxagraph recordings was delivered to your employees on-site at the Directorate by mistake. These came from a platoon of our own nation's Advance Guard, who may still be on a peacekeeping mission in the Upper Foglands. As you may well know, the government has severed all directaphone communications with the Foglanders pending resolution of certain diplomatic concerns. Therefore, it should be obvious that any word from our greencoats should be routed immediately to the Military Directorate. This, apparently, did not occur.
I have a friend in the MD who is overwrought with anxiety over a missing voxagraph communique from the aforementioned Advance Guard platoon, which should have been delivered to his office some weeks ago. Buffoons under your employ, contracted by the Military Directorate, instead routed those spindles to the State Information Directorate. This action is against state policy and bafflingly contrary to your stated expertise in "Information Security". Miraculously, the whereabouts of those voxagraph spindles have been discovered, thanks in no part to your shoddy record-keeping.
Once located, I was saddened to learn that not only are our greencoats wandering the Foglandish heath with dwindling supplies, but they are engaged in a desperate search for a stranded patriot. The only clues to his location are a collection of frantic voxagraph recordings that were also temporarily lost to your administrative ineptitude. My sense of tragedy, and my shame in hiring you, are deepened by the fact that your company saw it fit to classify this woeful narrative as a personal ad. The poor chap's laments were framed as answers to jaunty essay questions, then posted to "net.cupid_bow". I hope for your sake that the courts find you to be monumentally stupid, because the alternative is that your sense of humor is criminally morbid. In case you missed it (and I am certain you did) I have attached the text ad in full.
To be perfectly clear, your contracts with the State Information Directorate, and all government offices, are terminated, effective immediately. Your office has been billed for the overtime wages necessary to sort out this matter.
Sincerely,
Dr. H. F. Stonefield
[-- DEVICE CHECK FAILED: 257k ticks of data UNSENT for DEVICETYPE **BLUHRN_Remote_Operated_Industrial_Arm**. /////// Server attempting re-route, press the BLOCK key to cancel. --]
P.S. If your office had been properly equipped, I would have torn you to ribbons over the directa'.
[--ATCH 0001 TEXTFILE BEGIN --]
My Self-Summary
All directaphone lines are down, so I am dictating this message by voxagraph in hopes that someone may find it. My airmotor has crashed and I was forced to leave it in a particularly un-airworthy condition. I was able to salvage the power plant and most of the drive train to fashion myself a crude overland conveyance. My estimated position is somewhere in the Upper Foglands, but without a clear view of the stars I am not at all certain. Less certain still is what will happen to me in coming hours and days.
My curiosity has gotten the best of me once again. I had lowered my altitude to get better readings on a patch of phosphorescent ores, and in a moment of inattentiveness, my craft was struck by a sudden downdraft. It was then that I became immediately and violently acquainted with the ore deposit.
The phlogiston compressors are spinning up to speed, so I must end this recording. I can only hope that my creativity and mettle can see me out of this cheerless heath.
My curiosity has gotten the best of me once again. I had lowered my altitude to get better readings on a patch of phosphorescent ores, and in a moment of inattentiveness, my craft was struck by a sudden downdraft. It was then that I became immediately and violently acquainted with the ore deposit.
The phlogiston compressors are spinning up to speed, so I must end this recording. I can only hope that my creativity and mettle can see me out of this cheerless heath.
What I’m doing with my life
I have been trying to distill a fuel with workable combustive properties from rotting vegetation I find in the swamps that pervade this region. The rest of my time is occupied with scraping aether bats out of my vehicle's air intake and keeping the snakes at bay.
As an aside, I have developed a strong aversion to swamps.
As an aside, I have developed a strong aversion to swamps.
I’m really good at
Re-purposing found objects as a fuel pump.
I am fully conversant with the terrible howls of the creatures that stalk the heath, how far away they are, and how long it will take them to bring their slavering jaws to bear on me.
I am fully conversant with the terrible howls of the creatures that stalk the heath, how far away they are, and how long it will take them to bring their slavering jaws to bear on me.
The first things people usually notice about me
> The lesions that testify to my numerous and unfortunate encounters with the dreadful local fauna
> The long and convoluted discourse that I carry on with myself on a worryingly frequent basis
> The long and convoluted discourse that I carry on with myself on a worryingly frequent basis
My favorite books, movies, music, and food
Books - Anything Ada Hargrave is tops, naturally.
Movies - Though I hate to mar it, I made a handy flipbook in the margins of my copy of "Useful Machine Movements". It's about a man that finds a pair of lift planes for his airmotor and lofts himself safely into the heavens. I could watch it every day.
Music - The gentle breeze blowing across an open plain in the early morning, before the larger predators are active.
Food - Whatever I can find.
Movies - Though I hate to mar it, I made a handy flipbook in the margins of my copy of "Useful Machine Movements". It's about a man that finds a pair of lift planes for his airmotor and lofts himself safely into the heavens. I could watch it every day.
Music - The gentle breeze blowing across an open plain in the early morning, before the larger predators are active.
Food - Whatever I can find.
The six things I could never do without
> A standard-issue Mechanologist's Guild Toolkit - valuable beyond words
> 100 meters of natural-fibre rope - a little mold-eaten at this point, sadly
> Ada Hargrave's Book of Useful Machine Movements (3rd Edition) - I have kept this with me since my school days.
> Ruger-Bellwether "Ifrit" Repeater Pistol - There are only three psychokinetic rounds left in the magazine.
> Canvas tarp - My new, hopefully temporary, living quarters
> A worn journal - Even if I don't make it, maybe someone out there can learn from my mistakes.
> 100 meters of natural-fibre rope - a little mold-eaten at this point, sadly
> Ada Hargrave's Book of Useful Machine Movements (3rd Edition) - I have kept this with me since my school days.
> Ruger-Bellwether "Ifrit" Repeater Pistol - There are only three psychokinetic rounds left in the magazine.
> Canvas tarp - My new, hopefully temporary, living quarters
> A worn journal - Even if I don't make it, maybe someone out there can learn from my mistakes.
I spend a lot of time thinking about
Every few days I cross a stretch of ground that has been cut, ravaged by Flynn-knows-what. Something has left a swath of desolation approximately 12 metres wide, where tree branches are snapped and the earth has been scorched by extreme heat. It leaves a track pattern unlike any sort of machine I have ever seen, and it makes impossibly sharp turns. Sometimes the tracks inexplicably end with no evidence left as to where the blasted thing departed.
This morning I found a set of such tracks not a dozen paces from my camp. I did not hear a thing all last night. I freely admit to you here that this frightens me to the very core.
This morning I found a set of such tracks not a dozen paces from my camp. I did not hear a thing all last night. I freely admit to you here that this frightens me to the very core.
On a typical Friday night I am
-leaving more voxagraph spindles for someone to find. I hope this message finds you in a better state of affairs than myself. Please exk\/5e the po0r out//////put quality, I think the r3cording he4d is 4bout to g1ve o
[-- Unknown DATATYPE was received. Please contact an authorized Blue Heron Voxagraph service centre. --]
[-- Unknown DATATYPE was received. Please contact an authorized Blue Heron Voxagraph service centre. --]
The most private thing I’m willing to admit here
It fills me with profound joy to have found another voxagraph recording head. What excellent luck! I pried it from the death-grip of some chap not so lucky as I. May his soul find peace.
It is my private shame that I never learned to properly calibrate a magnetocollider. I always asked Mr. Druthers to do that for me, and he always graciously agreed. He was my dearest friend amongst all the Guild members.
It is my private shame that I never learned to properly calibrate a magnetocollider. I always asked Mr. Druthers to do that for me, and he always graciously agreed. He was my dearest friend amongst all the Guild members.
You should message me if
You found my recording. I can scarcely believe it! Now, you should see a set of narrow wheel tracks leading into a copse of haberdasher trees. Follow that, and keep to the southern shore of the lake, then continue across the field toward the hills. I'm going to try to leave trail markers as long as I have energy to spare.
For the love of all that is good, do not attempt to cross the plains at night! This cannot be stressed enough.
For the love of all that is good, do not attempt to cross the plains at night! This cannot be stressed enough.
[--ATCH TEXTFILE STOP --]
[-- DIRECTAPHONE TEXT FULLSTOP--]
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[-- SEND: ADDR#479302.t.925 RECEIVE:ADDR#479302.t.ALL DATETIME: 1924-10-16,16:12 DIRECTAPHONE TEXT BEGIN--]
FROM: Ms. Francine Grendel, Archivist
State Information Directorate - Mail Department
#479302.t.925
TO: &AllStaff_SID
State Information Directorate
#479302.t.ALL
SUBJECT: Preventable Fatalities in the Shipping Department
Dear Fellow Staff,
I am writing to inform you of an unfortunate incident that needlessly claimed the lives of 7 employees in the 4th sub-basement of the SID this afternoon. It appears that some stray ticks of data from upstairs were received by the Industrial Manipulator Arm (known to the mail staff as "Lanky Linda") in the Oversize Package Sorting Room. This caused her to go on something of a rampage, rending 6 employees to bits before an intern selflessly threw himself into the works to stop her. Even though the stray data had every appearance of a valid manipulator program, it proved to be poorly written and also more fatal than was perhaps necessary.
In the future, please do take care that such data is correctly routed and meets proper safety standards.
The families of the departed will each be sent a Condolence Assortment of Fruit Jams in memory of service given to the SID.
Respectfully,
F. Grendel
P.S. Linda was returned to service after minor repairs and a good wash.
State Information Directorate - Mail Department
#479302.t.925
TO: &AllStaff_SID
State Information Directorate
#479302.t.ALL
SUBJECT: Preventable Fatalities in the Shipping Department
Dear Fellow Staff,
I am writing to inform you of an unfortunate incident that needlessly claimed the lives of 7 employees in the 4th sub-basement of the SID this afternoon. It appears that some stray ticks of data from upstairs were received by the Industrial Manipulator Arm (known to the mail staff as "Lanky Linda") in the Oversize Package Sorting Room. This caused her to go on something of a rampage, rending 6 employees to bits before an intern selflessly threw himself into the works to stop her. Even though the stray data had every appearance of a valid manipulator program, it proved to be poorly written and also more fatal than was perhaps necessary.
In the future, please do take care that such data is correctly routed and meets proper safety standards.
The families of the departed will each be sent a Condolence Assortment of Fruit Jams in memory of service given to the SID.
Respectfully,
F. Grendel
P.S. Linda was returned to service after minor repairs and a good wash.
[-- DIRECTAPHONE TEXT FULLSTOP--]
1 comment:
Excellent, as always. I really liked the part about Lanky Linda at the end. I see that in this universe, they have solved the "strangle people over the Internet" problem. :)
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