Excellent. I have no idea what works and what doesn't, but I've got a few gadgets I picked up there--probably nearly worthless here, but I'll check them later.
What's on the board at RBW this week? I settle in for sleep Sunday night and rise for work on Monday.
--M. J. Young
The design of the beer-powered giant fighting robot is still on the go. Desi has you measuring the details of standard pickup, car and large truck chassis and preparing drawings for him to work with.
About mid-week Jim-Bob has a problem. "MJ, I need this here doo-hickey for the flywheel system. I doubt you're going to be able to find it lying in a junk heap. I need you to head on down to Newark and see if you can't buy something at the auction."
He gives you 250 bottlecaps to take with you. You have permission to use the beer truck if you promise to refill it.
First, I need to examine the doohickey closely; in doing so, I will ask questions concerning what aspects of it are critical--e.g., the most obvious characteristic of the transformer/rectifier I use to power my electronic piano is that it is a large black rectangular prism, but neither the shape nor the color matters to the function. I need to know what it is I'm seeking.
I also need to know how big/heavy/awkward it is, so I know whether this is something I can carry back if I walk.
I also need to know how far it is to the auction and how I get there--I'm new around here, and have never been there yet. The distance is going to make a big difference to whether or not I take the truck, since having the truck will be important if it's too far to walk.
I'm not eager to have to refill the truck; I've never bought beer in this world, and don't know what it costs, but the idea that I should take the company car on a company errand, and then pay for the fuel myself, doesn't sit well with me. I'm not going to make an issue of it, but if the auction isn't that far or the doohicky that big, I'll walk.
Meanwhile, I'm also going to ask about the "auction". I've heard that word used for a place where you have to bid on items brought forward for sale, but also for a place like a farmers market where people set up small stores to hawk their goods and are ready to haggle over prices. I'm not much for haggling, but I'll do what must be done, if I can.
--M. J. Young
He explains the function/purpose of the doohickey. It will be about the size of a bulky computer printer and quite heavy (it's mostly made of steel) but could easily be carried in a backpack or cart. You've been hauling scrap for a couple of weeks now, so it's old hat.
Newark is beyond the Duke farm. They walk there in a few hours so it will take you all day to walk to Newark from RBW.
The auction is much like you know. Things go up for sale, and people bid for them. If they aren't popular, they go cheap; if they are in high demand, the prices get driven up.
I find a backpack to take with me, plus an extra bag for supplies.
I tell Jim-Bob that I can't afford to pay for fuel, so I'll have to walk, and I'll see him in a few days.
Assuming he does not object, I will depart. I'm going to leave some inoccuous object from my pockets here at RBW for a homing signal, but I'll take the rest of what I've got here.
From your description, I return by way of the Duke farm. I will go there and spend the night--no point getting to the auction after it closes. I will then leave most of my stuff there, and the next morning I will rise early and head to the auction.
--M. J. Young
When you arrive at the Duke farm, you are met with a glum Uncle Jesse and Daisy. It turns out Bo and Luke were arrested by Sherrif Roscoe P. Coltrane for violating their probation. It's going to be hard-going on the farm without them - and who knows if they'll be able to get the crop to market and pay the mortgage...
"Well, we knew they were idiots likely to go off half-cocked. How much is the mortgage, and when is it due?"
"You don't happen to know a petroleum engineer, do you? I mean, I figure from what you say, and all the oil fields in the Louisiana Delta and the Gulf, there must have been some petroleum people exiled. I've got an idea for how to get more gasoline, and given the state of the current economy, that should be worth a lot of money."
--M. J. Young
"The mortgage is 5000 bottlecaps and it's due at the end of the fall (a few months from now). And no, I have never heard of a petroleum engineer on Joisey. Most of anyone who was rich was on the side of the government and so weren't on the redneck side of the war."
(GE=29)
I snort. "Well, my Uncle Bob was a petroleum engineer, and I would not have thought him exactly rich--no better off than automotive engineers like Billy-Bob. But if we have to work from scratch, we've done it before."
I make a note to myself. I figure we are sitting on a gold mine. About ninety percent of this trash is hydrocarbons--organics, papers, plastics, synthetics. We need to find a chemical engineer somewhere, and work with him to find a process to extract petrol from it. Find a good process for that, and we could raise five thousand bottlecaps in a week, probably.
And that's not to mention the benefit to the landscape.
I'll enjoy supper and breakfast, and continue my trip to the auction in the morning. Oh, and I'll ask Daisy May how she did with the stories.
--M. J. Young
Daisy says she hasn't heard back from the paper yet, but she's still hopeful.
You spend a pleasant morning walking through the fields, which give way to the South Joisey Fens. They have a particularly rank odour and brown foam often floats on the surface of the water. Just after mid-day you start entering the city of Newark. It is ramshackle by necessity since it is constructed entirely out of recycled materials salvaged from the dumpsites. You pass businesses like Bud's Suds, Big Bob's Tours & Clambake, Real Dang Television Inc. and the First Fidelity Mutual Bank & Feed Shop.
The auction is not hard to find. It is in a large open market square. There are some covered areas and many makeshift and tattered awnings extend from stalls around the edges. There are a lot of people crowded around shouting out bids for the items up on 'the block' (which is a stage made out of a raft of refrigerators). An auctioneer rattles off the going price. Around the edges people have set up stalls, selling various things - mostly food.
I find myself wondering how much of the pollution in the water here is hydrocarbon based, and how difficult it would be to produce motor fuels from it; but at the moment I'm on another mission.
It occurs to me that I could wait all week for the particular object I want to appear on the auction block and never see it. I need to discover how one learns what objects are scheduled when. This will require a bit of exploring and a bit of kibbutzing.
I have a few bottlecaps with me, I'm sure. Let me find a vendor selling something that looks like a decent consumable (preferably not hot dogs or other sausages), including a decent non-alcoholic beverage like root beer. Assuming I find one, I will buy lunch and then chat with the proprietor.
"It's my first time at the auction," I say. "Boss sent me to try to pick up something for a company project. How does one do this? How do you find out what's for sale, or what's going to be for sale--or do you just sit here for weeks waiting for the right moment? Or is there some other way to buy stuff around here, without waiting for it to hit the block?"
--M. J. Young
You pick up some fried chicken and root beer for 1 bottlecap.
The vendor indicates a large blackboard to the side of the auction stage. It has a timetable of when the lots go on the block. It also lists the major items in each lot. You can view most of the lots behind the stage.
Checking the board, you notice that over the next three 2-hour blocks (taking you to closing time) there are no doohickeys listed. Some of the items listed in the lots, however, say "general salvage" or "car parts".
(GE=16)
Now I'm going to have to get more observant.
Someone must have put these thing on the board; and someone must be bringing the items forward for the auctioneer. I'm going to do my best to figure out who that is.
Assuming I can figure it out, I'm going to talk to someone involved about talking to someone involved who can answer questions about the upcoming lots. If necessary, I'll give my contact a couple bottlecaps to get an invite.
I'm going to explain to whoever has some authority that I'm looking for a doohickey, and would like to know whether there are any in any of the upcoming lots. I don't mind checking for myself, or taking their word for it.
--M. J. Young
It is easy to find the guy in charge of the lots. He's running back and forth, adding and deleting items from the chalkboard. When you approach, he is happy to talk with you as long as you're willing to jog along next to him. He never seems to stand still. He talks like an auctioneer, too, or at least as fast as one. He introduces himself as 'Slow Gin'. He's got a recycled notebook of upcoming lots for the next few days from stuff stored in their warehouse. (He modifies it based on the demand trend he sees each day.) A lot of the stuff just shows up from salvagers the day of, though, and those get dropped into the lots in the morning so he doesn't have any record of those.
Checking his book, you notice that there's a doohickey scheduled for a lot tomorrow afternoon.
(GE=12)
"Look, Slow Gin, this is my first time at the auction, and I don't know the protocols or anything, but I'm here to get a doohickey. I have no use for the rest of what's in that lot, and will wind up leaving it here so I don't have to carry it back to RBW. It's worth something to me to be able to buy just the doohickey, and start heading back to work with it. Who would I see to get that? Or is that just impossible?"
I'm going to attempt to read his mind as I do this; I see a 2@7 BRA and 1@4 SAL with a 6@ psi bias, so my chance of success is between 41 and 53 (depending on the bias of the world) unless he's using some sort of defense.
--M. J. Young
(Sorry, I wasn't clear enough about the auction lots.)
"Eh? Bub, them lots is merely the group of items that will be sold in a time slot. They's sold individually. As long as you gots the highest bit, you can buy just your doohickey."
Your attempt to read his mind is awfully difficult - like pushing through a fog of cotton - but you find yourself a tunnel. He's wondering where you're from, why you'd want a doohickey, and whether you're a Ford or Chevy man (He's a Chevy man).
(Dice roll=15)
"Oh, got it. Sorry. First time I've been to an auction like this. What time to you reckon that lot will be up tomorrow?"
I'm seriously considering whether I can hoof it back to the Duke farm for the night and get back in time to bid on that, or whether I'm going to have to find a place to stay around here. If the doohickey isn't likely to hit the block before mid-afternoon tomorrow I'll head back to the farm; if it's going to be earlier than that, I'm going to have to look at options for staying in town.
--M. J. Young
The lot is scheduled for the next afternoon. You head back to the Duke farm and return the next day.
When the doohickey hits the block, the whole crowd just stares disinterestedly at it. The auctioneer is calling "50bottlecaps, 50, do I hear 50 caps, you sir?, 50 bottlecaps, anyone for 50 caps?"
(GE=6)
I'm thinking he has inflated the opening bid because he knows I want it; on the other hand, I don't really want to low-ball him, and I was given two hundred fifty bottlecaps to obtain this.
"Thirty-five," I call. No one else seemed interested, and I've got room to maneuver from here if necessary; it also will make it appear that I'm not all that interested in it myself, so I'm not likely to spark interest in the object among others.
If he won't take a bid of thirty-five, I'll make it forty-five, fifty if he insists on it, and see where it goes from there.
--M. J. Young
The auctioneer pauses ever so slightly, then keeps going "I hear 35. Do I hear 40? 40 anyone? The bid is 40. 35 going once. 35 going twice. Sold! Sold for 35 to the man in the braid."
A grubby individual shows up shortly to give you your claim ticket. It is a simple matter from there to claim the doohickey.
Do you stick around Newark?
I got a chance to look over the other lots earlier; is there anything else that might interest me coming up before suppertime?
If so, I will wait to see how the bidding goes on whatever it is.
If not, I will claim my prize, and give three bottlecaps to the organizer who let me look over the lots. I'll tell him that he saved me a lot of time, and I'm happy with my purchase. Then I'll return to the farm to spend the night, Doohickey in my pack.
I think I picked up all my stray equipment. If that's true, then I want to resume wearing my monomolecular blade. If it's not true, then not this trip but the next I'll have to run my course through the last pickup point to get the rest of my things.
Either way, I expect to get the Doohickey today, sleep at the farm tonight, and return to RBW tomorrow with the Doohickey and 212 bottlecaps change.
--M. J. Young
Yes, you recovered all of your equipment.
What would interest you? Electrical components for your electricity-based weapon? What else?
Yes, particularly large capacitors of the sort that would be found in CRT-based monitors and television sets, and heavy wire that would be able to carry a high voltage high current flash jolt without overheating severely.
Also, I would be very interested in books in the chemistry/biochemistry/petroleum engineering/chemical engineering fields--I think the future of this world more likely lies in converting more of their trash to useful product, and top of the list would be extracting petroleum products from the voluminous quantity of waste hydrocarbons.
I'm also interested in at least looking at anything that suggests the current state of Earth technology--discarded computers, cell phones, calculators, but more so anything that has the look of Japanada stuff, holographic imaging, and anything technological that is above what I knew in twencen Earth. I've been to a couple different futures, and I'd like to try to guage how advanced Earth is.
I would be interested in musical instruments of any sort. I can play just about anything, and anything I can't play I can learn to play in a couple of hours (taught myself the fife in one afternoon while touring Williamstown as a high school kid; taught myself the tin whistle in one afternoon at a Ren Faire with my own kids), and anyway, I think that Daisy might be pleased if I bought her a musical instrument and taught her to play something on it, and there are quite a few instruments I'd attempt to repair and keep for myself.
--M. J. Young
The lots indicate that Earth technology has made some significant advances in certain areas - better batteries, improved engines (space travel), laser technology - but nothing of use has made it to auction, only discarded casings and other incidentals.
Musical instruments seem to be a popular item at auction. You see a drum set, a Jew's harp, a few banjos, a fiddle, harmonicas, several from the flute family, and an electronic 'key-tar' (a keyboard with a handle to be played like a guitar). All are in fair condition as far as you can tell.
Books, however, are not present. The only books you've seen besides the raggedy bibles and the tabloid newspapers are within easy reach of the inside of an outhouse.
There is a lot with some electrical equipment that you could use, but the bidding starts at 100 bottlecaps and there are two bids immediately, pushing it up to 125. Do I hear 150?
(GE for electrical equipment: 18, for books: 23, for musical instruments: 6)
I can't bid the company's money on items for my own interest or use, and I don't have that kind of money, so the electronic parts are right out.
I must have three or four bottlecaps left from my pay, which isn't much. I'd like to land an instrument, but I'm not going above two bottlecaps for anything. My first choice would be the fiddle, because I don't play it but have wanted to learn; the Key-tar sounds interesting as a second choice, but barring those a flute is next or a banjo. If I can get any of those for one bottle cap, I'll try to get another for one or two. However, if it's evident in the early bidding that musical instruments go for more than I've got, I'm not going to hang around for that.
I am, however, going to see if I can find where they store their surplus toilet paper, and look through the as yet unused books for anything on my list of science texts. I'm a bit of a book hound, though, so I'll also be looking for theology, classic fiction, and other informative books from which I can learn something.
--M. J. Young
You have 4 bottlecaps. The fiddle you can probably get for 3 bottlecaps, the keytar for 2, the others 5+. Note, that the keytar requires electricity and an amp to function properly. You hunt around town for a place to buy toilet paper and browse the piles but it is all mostly romance like Danielle Steele or other pulp fiction.
(GE's fiddle: 14, keytar: 12, flute: 16, banjo: 18)
If I can get the fiddle for three bottlecaps, I will buy it.
I have reason at least to suspect that my portable piano has an internal power supply and amplifier. I'll have to figure out impedance matching, but it shouldn't be that difficult to patch an external instrument into it--indeed, my own midi keyboard has such a function, although it handles midi data not analog audio. For that, it might be that a key-tar outputs in midi/datastream format or other digital output. In any case, if I cannot get the fiddle for three, I will attempt to acquire the key-tar for two. If I do not succeed at that, either, I will go home with my prize doohickey, and spend the night at the farm.
--M. J. Young
You get the fiddle for 3 bottlecaps, leaving you with 1 left.
The trip back to the farm is uneventful. The mood at the Duke Farm is still dampened by the fact that Bo and Luke are in jail.
Well, there's not much I can do about Bo and Luke. I mean, I could probably break them out of jail easier than I could build a new mecha that runs on beer, but they'd only wind up back in jail probably with me next to them, and although somehow I can see myself doing the A-Team escape sort of thing anyway, I really am not interested in being a fugitive from the law on a planet where Earth dumps its garbage.
I'll tune up the violin; I know the tuning pattern, and I've got a couple of musical instruments with me that I can use for a reference note. I'm assuming it came with a bow. I'll check it for damage and see whether it needs any repairs. I've done a lot of repair work on guitars over the years, and violins are not that much different. They're tuned circle of fifths, G-D-A-E. I probably don't have rosin for the bow, but I probably have soap, and it will do the same thing.
"Daisy, I've always wanted to learn to play this instrument; but once I've learned it I probably won't have much use for it, so I'm thinking I'll teach you how to play it and let you have it. Bring a bit of music to the house. Sound good to you?"
--M. J. Young
You tune up the fiddle and tighten the bow. Despite some bad scratches to the body, it's in decent shape.
"That would be mighty fine, Emma-Jay! I've never met anyone who could play so many instruments. I'd love to be able to play."
You start the lessons that night - much to the distress of Uncle Jesse. He complains loudly about the squawks and squeaks and finally goes outside to find some peace and quiet.
I assume you spend the night and head on back to RBW the next day.
That sounds right to me. I'll check on everything here, and have a quick practice session with the robot to keep in shape.
I will ask Daisy-May to take care of the violin for me, and leave it at the farm; I don't think I'd have that much opportunity to use it at the plant anyway, and there's no sense risking damaging it, and she might be able to get better at it if she practices. I will admonish her to try to play it more when her father is out so he doesn't get too upset with it.
Then I'm headed back to RBW with my doohickey in tow.
--M. J. Young
Jesse is Daisy's uncle.
After a large and well-cooked breakfast served to you by a doting Daisy, you head out on the trail again. After lunch-time, you are once again within the familiar walls of Really Big Weapons, Inc. Jim-Bob is very excited that you managed to find the doohickey and invites you to help him install it in a partially-built prototype of the beer-energy flywheel system.
It is basically the converted engine rigged through a modified transmission to a huge flywheel. There is a scaffolding framework built around it to mount the beer tank and support the piping. A spaghetti of lines flow from the transmission box and lead to the old TV from the rec room and to a shotgun, both mounted on the scaffolding. The shotgun is mounted in some kind of triggering mechanism but it is hard to make out the details for all the duct tape.
There is a break for a bbq chicken supper but excitement is high at RBW and everyone wants to be around for the test run that evening. One of the mechanics rolls up a large cask of beer.
"Where do you want this, Boss?"
Anything you want to add/do?
(Note to GM - need some mechanic skills for MJ. Might be worth investigating a Scrounging skill as well - ability to identify useful items amongst trash...maybe this is just an Intuition roll...??)
"Daisy, maybe when I leave you'll go with me. Trouble is, I don't know when I'm going and I don't know where, and I can't promise it will be better than here--could be worse. Well, we'll see. Probably that's not going to happen for a while yet."
I'm also returning a substantial amount of change to the company; I got the doohickey for considerably less than they were prepared to spend, as I recall.
I'd probably make a scrounge skill a P3@0 variant, a sort of heightened perception that lets the character identify things that will do what he wants. I probably have such a skill, based on the years in the band when I had to jerry-rig equipment to do the job I needed. But it's your call.
--M. J. Young
Yes, I like the P3@0 idea. The only alternative I see is a M0@1 Survival:Urban variant.
Dice rolls for skill acquisition: 49, 72, 47. All successes, one enough for 1@2.
1@1 Repair combustion engine T8@2
1@2 Build combustion engine T8@3
1@1 Scrounge for parts P3@0
Are you taking any actions in preparation for the RBW test?
I forgot to mention that the beer-energy conduit pipes flow from the flywheel to a control panel with a large lever in front of Jim-Bob. From the lever, separate energy pipes lead to the shotgun and the T.V. and back again.
Body armor comes to mind; in fact, do I see any of those shelter structures like they built for observing nuclear bomb blasts? I think I'd like to have something solid between me and the machine.Are you taking any actions in preparation for the RBW test?
Barring that, I guess not. But I'm not looking for front-row seats on this; I'm content to watch from the roof of the adjacent building or something.
--M. J. Young
You slip back to the fringes while Jim-Bob says a few words.
"Before you stands the future of RBW! If Sammy finally gets his act together, it will eventually be able to stand on it's own two legs!"
There is general laughter and Sammy's hair gets ruffled.
"This is the prototype of our newest weapon system. Well, it is the propulsion system for the vehicle that will carry our weapons, but you get the idea. This will revolutionize clan feuds. We will upset the balance of power. More importantly, they will be damn fun and that will have rednecks pounding on our door to hand over their bottlecaps for the newest, biggest, baddest weapons around! And we owe it all to beer."
He holds up his can of beer in salute. "To beer!"
"TO BEER!" shouts everyone.
There is a technician clambering around the scaffolding opening valves and such. He gives the thumbs up to Jim-Bob, who nods. The technician starts up the engine which chugs along and begins spinning the flywheel. The scaffold rocks and shakes under the strain, but it holds.
Jim-Bob switches the lever over and the TV turns on. It is tuned to Wrestling. Everyone cheers. Jim-Bob then slams the lever over and the shotgun begins firing. It fires repeatedly, the firing mechanism automatically cocking it, until it is empty.
Everyone cheers and pulls out their own handguns and begins firing them in the air in celebration.
(dice roll=54)
I'm shaking my head, right hand on forehead, looking down.
"Well," I say to myself, "we did it. I guess I'll get a cut of some of this, so that's a good thing, but I doubt it will come fast enough to help the Dukes.
"Probably not much I can do to fix this world, anyway. Still, it would be nice if I could find a way to turn that trash into fuel. Even a trash-to-steam plant would be better than acres of trash."
I'll find my way to the cafeteria to get some food.
--M. J. Young
Cookie serves you up some grub. You are the only one in the cafeteria. "You don't look like you're enjoying the celebrations," he says.
"Eh. Sometimes I feel like the people here are really smart, and I can learn a lot from them--like how to make an engine run on beer--but then other times, I think that if any of them had another brain it would be lonely. I mean, why did I have to suggest using beer as motor fuel? They've had the problem for a long time, and they not only knew that beer could be used, they knew how to adjust the engine to do it.
"Now, I keep thinking that we're all idiots. Where I came from, there were a lot of things done with trash. There was a trash-to-steam plant in one town where I lived, making energy while using trash. There were processing systems to make crude oil and then refined fuels from plastics and organic garbage. There were recycling systems that turned old paper into new paper, old plastic into new plastic, old glass into new glass. And here, this planet is absolutely buried in garbage, and no one has had the first thought of really tapping it as a resource.
"But I'm the wrong guy. I'm not an engineer--I'm a theologian, a lawyer, a musician, an author, about as tech savvy on these things as Daisy Mae. It needs to be done; it can revolutionize life on this planet.
"But not only are these brilliant engineers not doing it, they're all excited about having built a new machine that will make it easier for people around here to kill each other. Forgive me. I've been to places where they could easily destroy entire planets. I'd like to see this place improve, but if these are the bright lights of research around here, I'm going to watch several generations come and go before anyone starts trying to make the world a better place.
"Of course, if you know where I can find some books on organic and petroleum chemistry, maybe I can use those generations to become the guy who does it. No? Didn't think so."
--M. J. Young
Cookie shrugs and says, "Do you want some more pie?"
The week continues as normal. After the excitement of the test run it is a bit of a anti-climax to return to the drudgery of the design spiral. But things are progressing.
The weekend comes and you head back to the Duke farm. Things are in a bit of a disarray. With Bo and Luke in jail, Uncle Jesse is up to his eyeballs in work and it shows on his aged frame. Daisy is helping out, of course, and you find her feeding chickens. It is hot so she is dressed in very short cut-off shorts and her shirt is tied up to bare her midriff. She has a handkerchief tied around her hair.
She is very glad to see you. "Em-Jay! I've been practicing the violin. I'll show you after dinner."