<i>I can't seem to post to the archived thread, so I'm reposting the last one here before replying.</i>
"Early edition, that! Used to be me mam's, breaks me 'eart to part wit it. I bin askin' 100 pounds fer that one, but it's desp'rate times an' I like yer face. 40 quid an' it's yours! Small price to pay for good lit'rature."
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I try to remember how much money I have on me, if any, that's actually in pounds. If I can spend my money here (and again, if I can't, better to find out now), I don't want to blow it all on a single book. "Forty?" I say. "Hmm....well, I don't know." The hesitation is partly to bargain a bit, and partly to give me time to remember how much I actually have. If I have the cash for it, I'll make an offer a bit lower than he's asking, probably 20. Forty pounds seems like an awful lot for a book, especially in 1985. Of course, who knows what to expect when books are being sold by shady people on street corners? I wonder then if perhaps books are illegal on this world. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough, if that's the case.
Welcome back, Kelly.
Yes, the archives are closed against further posts; you've done exactly right by posting here, although we should add a link to the archived thread when we get a chance.
Coding is a bit odd here; you'll find a fairly comprehensive discussion of it in the sticky, Coding On This Board, although if you look below the posting box you'll see a quick list of the main ones people use--blockquote for quotes, br for breaks (although return/enter performs that function), em for italics, strong for bold, and the ul ("unordered list" or dots) or ol ("ordered list" with numbers) tag to open and close lists with li as the item marker.
Graeme has been a bit occupied with work, but he shows up a few times almost every week, is still playing his game and running mine, and I'm eager to see what he does with yours.
--M. J. Young
Whoa! Hi Kelly! Long time no see! I'm just at the airport heading east to see family and I have only 2:43 on the ticker before the gate to the internet is slammed shut. I will be happy to continue your game as long as you don't expect me to be exceptionally regular! How have you been? My bet is you have a child already... ;)
Sorry for the delay - after-holiday rush is worse that usual!
You dig in your pockets. You probably have quite a stash of pounds somewhere in your pack but all you can salvage close at hand is 2 crumpled ten pound notes.
GE=21
As you can see by the delay on my part, no, I don't expect you to be all that regular. I've been fine; how about you? No, no kids yet (unless you count the furry "baby," a nine-year-old gray cat named Tom).
"Forty? I'm sorry...I can't quite afford that. I don't suppose you'd take twenty?"
"Twenty!? Luv! I got mouths t' feed! Overheads!"
When you shrug and show him that you haven't got any more, he sighs and nibbles nervously on his lip while glancing around.
"You drive a hard bargain, luv. You got me over a barrel an' I need the money."
He hands you the book and snatches the bills from your hand and is gone immediately, slipping into the shadows of a side street.
I don't quite get out a "Thank you" before he disappears into the shadows. So, I now have a book, and one I've never read at that. I flip through it briefly before tucking it into my pack.
I have my things now, so it's time to go....somewhere. I take a look around, trying to come up with a logical direction. I'll head toward whatever looks busiest, avoiding the shadowy side streets. Much as this world makes me nervous, I'm not going to learn anything about it by skulking in alleyways.
Graeme said something about being out of the country for a while. Don't be surprised if it takes him a while to reply.
The book looks old and has several woodcut prints. It is in english.
Just as you choose a direction, there is suddenly a loud commotion from around the corner where the book-seller disappeared around.
"Freeze! SpecOps! Lay down on the ground!"
I run a hand gently over the book with a smile before putting it into my pack.
When I hear the commotion, I step into the shadows and freeze, hoping not to be noticed by anyone who comes back this way. I've gotten the clairvoyance to work in this world, though with some difficulty, so I'll try to sneak a peek at the area where the sound is coming from.
Unfortunately, your clairvoyance doesn't come.
Dice roll: 45
I'll quietly move toward the corner, still hoping not to be noticed. Stopping there, I listen intently to see if I can hear what's going on. I have a bad feeling that my initial "what if books are illegal here?" worry was right on the money.
If I hear nothing, I'll look around the corner.
The loud voice continues, "You are under arrest for-AARGH!"
There is a crash and a clatter, then you can hear running feet approaching you from around the corner.
I flatten myself against the wall, trying to get out of the way of whoever's running back toward me. I assume that it's the bookseller, fleeing from the SpecOps officer(s).
Standing there in the darkness, my hand goes to the cross I wear around my neck, and I whisper a brief prayer, asking God to help me understand what I should do here. It's odd, but I don't find myself all that concerned about my own safety. Maybe I've died enough that it bothers me a little less (even though it's still not something I care to repeat any more often than necessary), or maybe being a spy in the last world just hardened me to dangerous situations.
All right - sorry for any delay - I keep forgetting to consult the rulebook before coming to work and my computer.
So you are attempting some kind of magical prayer. I can see two options: 1. a M1@4 spell to bonus your basic intuition to give you clues to the situation around you, or 2. a M7@7 spell for some divine insight.
Given the extremely brief ritual, the negative sit-mods on the M7@7 spell would be prohibitive so I'm assuming it will be the former.
I don't have a Religion SAL for you. What would you say? 1@6?
I think the baseline TF is 1:00 so whittling it down to 6 seconds is -30. +10 for Alliance world. +5 for appropriateness of words/actions, -2 for being able to use either hand to touch the cross, +2 for the cross itself.
Skill acquisition roll is: 01 so that is 1@1 Divine Intuition M1@4 Bonus Checks. Improve Intuition of self by RS/5 for RS minutes. TF: 6 seconds. My hand goes to the cross I wear around my neck, and I whisper a brief prayer, asking God to help me understand what I should do here. SM-25
The roll allowed the learning of the skill, but is a very weak success. Difficult check against her temporary 1@9 Intuition is: 38, fail.
The cross feels warm and comforting in your hand but you gain no insight into the situation.
The scruffy man who sold you the book skids around the corner and dashes away down the alley.
You hear some disgruntled muttering from around the corner. "Leave him, he's gone. We'll try to pick up the pieces tomorrow. Sweep the area for any clues or merchandise."
Warmth and comfort I'll take. Even if I'm no closer to what I should be doing, knowing that God is listening helps. "Thank you," I whisper.
Considering that the "merchandise," which I just bought, is either stolen or illegal in and of itself, I don't think I want to still be here when they come around that corner. Instead, I'll follow the man who sold the books, down into the alley. I'll walk at first, as they'd hear me if I took off at a run. Running also makes me automatically a suspect, while walking away might conceivably leave me in the innocent bystander class if I am caught.
You depart the alley without incident, but don't see the shabby man again.
The sky is beginning to lighten and you wander with your heavy backpack and luggage towards more familiar areas of London. Soon, the hustle and bustle begins. The streets fill up with cars and people. An early morning airship glides by overhead. You are beginning to get quite hungry but there are quite a number of cafes nearby. You stop to dig out some of your English money when suddenly everything goes completely quiet.
You look up.
Everything is stopped. All the cars have stopped. The people are frozen mid-step. You can see a thin thread of spittle coming out of a newspaper hawker's mouth shining in the sun. A pigeon, disturbed on the sidewalk, is frozen suspended in the air.
A very familiar voice calls out, "Kelly! You're back! I thought we had lost you in Crimea."
It's your dad. He has his arms open wide and is carrying a Woolworth's shopping bag.
Oh, crap. Pretending to be my double has the potential to create all sorts of problems, but what's my alternative? Tell this version of my dad some weird story he won't believe--that and hurt him because his little girl really *hasn't* come home. And the weirdness factor just keeps increasing. The world frozen in place, all except for me and him. I don't even begin to know what to make of it.
I run up to him and give him a hug. "Dad, it is *so* good to see you!" All the while I'm thinking, Please, God, let his real daughter come home too. "I've missed you." I don't know what to say next. I can't ask how Mom or Andy are; for all I know, one or both of them died in this world, while my double was still around, and would therefore know about it.
You dad wraps you in a tight hug for a good long time. Then he whispers, "Ah, you're a good girl. Let an old man have his dreams. Don't worry, all this gets sorted out." He strokes your hair.
Then he pulls back, surreptitiously wipes tears from his eyes and puts on a bright smile. "Here!" he says, handing you the shopping bag, "A present for you."
I give him a slightly confused look, not quite sure what he means by "all this gets sorted out." I take the bag with a smile. "Thanks!" Then pause a little bit..."Do you want me to open it now?"
"Oh, it's up to you. I know what's in it already! By the way, how's your history? How did the Duke of Wellington die?"
Curioser and curiouser. I open the bag, wondering what's in it. To the question, I struggle for a minute to come up with an answer. I'm not sure I could come up with who the Duke of Wellington was or how he died in my world, even if the name sounds vaguely familiar. In this world, who knows?
The bag contains a Beatles album, on CD format. The picture is of John, Paul, Ringo and George standing in long grass with trees behind. It has a bold green border.
Your dad says, "It's the Green Album. They didn't always break up in the early 70s."
"Thanks...this is really cool." Even though I'm not a huge Beatles fan, I do like them. Heck, even if I didn't, owning an album that doesn't exist in my original world (which is still my baseline for "normal") is kinda cool.
"So...now what?"
((Neglected to answer his question, didn't I?))
"The Duke of Wellington...." I pause for a moment, then shake my head. "Sorry, I have no idea. How did he die?"
It occurs to me that my dad's alternate is apparently more interested in history than my dad. He wouldn't have known the answer to that one. My mom's the one who watched the History Channel a bunch and wanted to go to museums and things like that. Dad, less so, at least not that I can remember. He always seemed like much more of a "here and now" person to me--didn't read fiction that I saw, and wasn't big on sci-fi TV either. He liked to be outside, building stuff or working on the garden. Or hunting, or fishing. Maybe all that "hands-on" stuff would suggest that he wasn't a smart guy, but that couldn't be further from the truth--heck, he started off in college as a math major, where I just barely survived high school calculus. Okay, I got an A, but it about killed me, and he helped me with a lot of it.
((Neglected to answer his question, didn't I?))
"The Duke of Wellington...." I pause for a moment, then shake my head. "Sorry, I have no idea. How did he die?"
It occurs to me that my dad's alternate is apparently more interested in history than my dad. He wouldn't have known the answer to that one. My mom's the one who watched the History Channel a bunch and wanted to go to museums and things like that. Dad, less so, at least not that I can remember. He always seemed like much more of a "here and now" person to me--didn't read fiction that I saw, and wasn't big on sci-fi TV either. He liked to be outside, building stuff or working on the garden. Or hunting, or fishing. Maybe all that "hands-on" stuff would suggest that he wasn't a smart guy, but that couldn't be further from the truth--heck, he started off in college as a math major, where I just barely survived high school calculus. Okay, I got an A, but it about killed me, and he helped me with a lot of it.
Sorry for my absence, my workload has been phenomenal. I can't guarantee regular attendence as I'll be travelling around a lot over the Christmas break but my next semester looks a bit lighter so I might have some time to myself.
Your dad pauses to think, exhibiting a distinctive expression you vividly recall from your childhood. "Well, the French Revisionists would like us to believe that he was shot by a sniper during the opening attack at Waterloo. Seems fishy. What about Admiral Lord Nelson? What can you tell me about the Battle of Trafalgar?"
Hey, not a problem. I hope your next semester does give you a chance to breathe a bit.
I pause for a minute. "Trafalgar....big naval battle, major defeat for Napoleon...I don't remember what happened to Nelson, though." I shrug a little, feeling rather dumb. Military history has never been my strong suit and even if I learned it at one point, well...battles, generals, who defeated whom where and why it mattered...that all kind of blurs in my head. Matt would know this stuff. I wish he were here. If his luck's like mine, he's probably stuck in some screwed up world where all disputes are settled, not by combat, but by diagramming sentences, someplace I'd be really useful, if I were there.
"Well, no matter. The whole stinks of meddling," says your Dad.
Suddenly, there is a burst of noise. All the frozen people around you shift slightly. The pigeon manages a single flap of its wings before freezing again.
"Oh, they're on to me! I need to go. Tell your mother not to paint the living room that awful maroon colour."
Well, that was bizarre. I have more questions, but apparently no time. So, I thank him. I expect time to start up again, and him to be gone when it does. When that happens, I'll continue on my way. It occurs to me that the money I just spent on a book could maybe have been better used for food or a hotel room, but, oh well. I have no doubt I'll figure something out.
My first goal is to just observe...get an idea what this world is like. Maybe catch a glimpse of a newspaper headline, see what people are talking about. I'll look for a library or newsstand, but I have an odd feeling that there may not be libraries here.
As you expect, he suddenly vanishes and with him you are barraged with a crush of sound and everything is moving again.
There is a man selling newspapers nearby, as well as a SmileyBurger and a Cafe with a television mounted on the wall.
Things seem fairly normal to you. It is a busy street in London - something you are quite familiar with - and the only thing that throws you off is that the fashion (and hair) is from the mid-80s. That, and the dirigible passing overhead.
There seems to be a software hiccough; hopefully this post will correct it.
Mid-eighties. Well, that puts me at a little disadvantage, at least where clothing is concerned. Maybe I need to acquire some leg warmers. And hairspray. Lots of hairspray.
I came up with money for the book before, and at the time I thought it was all I had. I scrounge through my pockets and various bags to see if I have any other currency. I can probably pay for lunch with French or American money if need be. A credit card won't be useful, unfortunately.
While I'm doing that, I glance at the newspaper headlines and listen to the TV, if it's loud enough to hear.
Also, looking around the cafe, I check to see if people are reading (books or newspapers, but I'm especially curious about books).
You've still got 20 quid in your pocket so lunch won't be a problem, and you've got more stashed in your bag.
People are reading newspapers and books.
The TV in the cafe is playing the news: "This is the Toad News Network. The Toad, bringing you News Global, News Updates, News NOW!" The anchorwoman introduces herself as Alexandria Belfridge.
It's a story on the UN Resolution for England and Russia to open negotiations regarding the Crimean Peninsula.
...I'll also post the headlines of the newspaper you read the day before, but have probably long forgotten by now:
"Crimean peninsula has again come under scrutiny this week as UN passed resolution PN 17296 insisting England and Imperial Russian government open negotiations concerning sovereignty. As Crimean war enters it’s one hundred and 31st year, pressure groups both at home and abroad are pushing for a peaceful end to hostilities."
"The government is raising duty on cheese to 83%."
"Border skirmish with the Socialist Republic of Wales. No one hurt, just a few shots exchanged across the River Wye near Hay. Typically rambunctious, the youthful President-for-Life Owain Glyndwr VII had blamed England’s imperialist yearnings for a unified Britain; equally typically, Parliament had not so much as even made a statement."
"New fusion plant opened in Dungeness and PM attended."
"Parliamentary bill to remove the dodo’s Protected Species status after their staggering increase in numbers."
Lunch taken care of, I'm going to see if I can find a library to go on-line. Tech here seems to be a weird mix of old and new, but I'm betting that if they've got fusion, they've got the web. Since the neverending Crimean War keeps coming up, I want to read about that--history, cause, current status, etc. I couldn't even tell you when it happened in my universe, so the basics would be helpful. Since I appear to have a double here, I'm also going to Google (or whatever search engine exists) my own name.
Once I've done some poking around, I'll spend some time reading my newly acquired book.
A couple things I should've added in that last post:
-If I can't get online for whatever reason, I want to do the same basic research I mentioned--finding stuff about the Crimean War should be easy in hard copy or on-line. The only thing I wouldn't be able to do is enter my own name into a search engine.
I don't remember if I brought my CD player, or if it has batteries, but if I have it, I'll listen to the Green album some too.
Wow, Kelly, long time! Aren't you amazed that we're still here? How are things with you?
It seems that here, as in the mid-80s of your home world, the internet has yet to find it's way to a public network. On top of that, although you see stores selling music CDs, the Beatles album your dad gave you is a vinyl LP.
You find yourself a library and research the Crimean War:
The Crimean War began in October 1853 and was basically a land grab by the major European powers for the territories of the declining Ottoman Empire. It was all started by Napoleon III bullying and bribing the Ottoman's into accepting France to the be the sovereign authority over the Holy Land. However Russia has treaties in the late 1700s stating that they were the protectors of the Orthodox Christians in the Ottoman Empire. Britain joined forces with France to prevent Russian expansion. The war is where Florence Nightengale revolutionized the practice of nursing, and is known for the ill-fated Charge of the Light Brigade.
English forces ejected the Russians from their last toehold on the peninsula in 1975. It was seen as a major triumph against overwhelming odds. However, a state of deadlock has been maintained since those days and the country’s mood was summed up recently by Sir Gordon Duff-Rolecks at an anti-war rally in Trafalgar Square.
"What began as an excuse to curb Russia’s expansionism in 1854, has collapsed over the years into nothing more than an exercise to maintain the nation’s pride…there can be little doubt that the Czar Romanov Alexei IV does have overwhelming rights to sovereignty of the peninsula and I for one look forward to the day when we can withdraw our troops from what can only be described as an incalculable waste of human life and resources.”
You read your book. The guy who sold it to you said it was a first edition. It has no dust jacket and looks dark and old. The title, "The Tragic Historie of Doctor Faustas", and author, C. Marlowe is pressed into the cover in faded gold lettering. The paper is yellowed and quite thick, with typed lettering, in English. It is a play about a man (Dr. Faustus) who sells his soul to a devil (Mephistopheles) for power and knowledge. It is fairly short, only 1485 lines.
You are unable to Google your own name but you do have a librarian on staff at the library.
Being in the library gives me a better grounding for where this world is tech-wise. The 80s fashions, mixed with the dirigible, mixed with the mention of the fusion plant, just had me hopelessly confused. At some point, I'm going to need to pick up a record player if I want to listen to the album.
While I'm doing research, it occurs to me to poke at the puzzle my dad, well, my dad's alternate, gave me. I want to look up information on Lord Nelson, the Battle of Trafalgar, and the Duke of Wellington.
I'll also ask the librarian how you would go about doing research on someone who died in Crimea, with not much more to go on but their name and dates. I'll tell him/her about the little memorial, and what little I know about my alternate--leaving out the fact that she's an alternate version of me, of course.
It occurs to me that I don't want to go by my real name here, not after asking about the alternate who shares my name. My last alter-ego, Nikitia, with such a Russian-sounding name, is probably similarly a bad idea. Fortunately, I've got lots of identities from the last world, and passports to go with them.
Hi, Graeme. Yeah, long time no see. Things are pretty good with me lately, though not much really new in the last few months. Work's still work, Matt's doing well, and my semester is just starting. I'm taking a class on proposal writing this time around. How's it going for you?