M.J. stands for Mainly Junk - M.J. game continues · Page 7

Those are English inches.

I developed the idea for the skill with another character, but thought I'd bring it here. It gives me one foot of warning for sharp or fast-moving objects approaching me, and so gives me some opportunity to avoid. The idea is that if a knife or a bullet or anything is going to hit me, I will feel it penetrate the field before it does damage, and might be able to react to it.

--M. J. Young

Wodium - Hah! By old-school gaming inches, do you mean 120 ft? That used to confuse the hell out of me while reading the dragon's breath weapon stats in the monster manual.

MJ - Regarding your 12" clairtactile field of advanced warning, you might get enough time to react to a knife but a bullet passing the 12" mark is only about 0.001 seconds away from hitting you. You're probably lacking the skills to react in that amount of time.

I guess you should decide exactly what you want these abilities to do if you want to practice them:
1@3 Location Centering P3@2 (which if memory serves enables me to identify my own position relative to other points, but I am not certain of this)
1@2 Internal Mapping P3@2 (which I believe enables me to scan an area and know where things are within it, but again I do not completely remember the details of it)

You continue scrounging for the week while practicing your psionic. They aren't very reliable and you can't even get your clairtactile field to give you advance warning of the black flies buzzing around your head. But practice makes perfect, as they say.

You don't find any decent electrical gear for your weapon plans but you dig up some other mundane parts required for the project. You inform RBW of the location of the alternator and they mark it on a map to investigate when they have the manpower.

The big news at the end of the week is that the project has been going for 4 weeks and there is going to be a big BBQ to celebrate the beginning of actual assembly. There is still a lot of design to be done, but the basic structure is going to be started on.

Wodium - Hah! By old-school gaming inches, do you mean 120 ft? That used to confuse the hell out of me while reading the dragon's breath weapon stats in the monster manual.

That depends - are we indoors or outdoors?

Exactly! Wow, not many people understand that these days.

This is exciting. I would invite Daisy, but then, it's a bit of a walk and I don't have transportation. Did I ever (successfully) read her mind? I might attempt to contact her telepathically if I've got a mental frequency for her. That might really freak her, but that's something I'll have to consider after I know whether such contact is remotely possible.

--M. J. Young

I don't think you did. The only time I remember you trying was when you botched and turned yourself invisible.

Well, it's a couple hours to walk. I don't know whether my teleport spell would work, but I've probably freaked everyone out enough with my oddities.

I'll finish out the week and attend the barbecue alone.

--M. J. Young

The BBQ is a popular event. The weather cooperates and all the employees and their families are wandering about the RBW yard enjoying themselves. Massive charcoal bbqs are rolled out and are cooking chicken and pork chops. There is more than ample beer as well as soft drinks for the children. There are the usual bbq games like tug-of-war and a baseball game on the firing range. A 3-legged race is scheduled for after the speeches.

Jim-Bob makes his speech, thanking all the employees for their hard work, etc.
Then there is a ceremonial first weld of some steel and everyone cheers.

Anything specific you mean to do?

It strikes me that Jim-Bob's family is the Dukes, and if this is that big a deal, he probably sent word to them some time back that they were going to have this party. This seems more likely, if he's important enough in this company that he gets to make the speech. Did any of them make it here?

Is anyone going to object if I drink soft drinks with the children? I'm not a beer person at all.

--M. J. Young

(Sorry for the absence. I forgot to mention I was heading out of town for a bit of a vacation.

GE for Dukes: 12
GE for BBQ: 21)

The Dukes do show up after all. Jim-Bob remembered their kindness and sent them an invite (though he is not as close as family).

Things are going well at the barbeque, no one objects to you avoiding alcohol and you are chatting with Daisy. The wind picks up a bit and suddenly, there is a loud snap! You look up and you see a wood brace supporting the robot chassis that was set up for the ceremonial weld give way. The chassis begins to topple in the direction of the 3-legged race!

I don't have a lot of time here, but my best hope is to catch the chassis with my 1@2 Heavy Object TK P4@3. My bias is 6@ and my BRA is 2@7; if the world bias is 0@ then my chance of success, excluding any other modifiers you apply, should be 39%; it would not be higher than 51%, if I get the full bonus for my 6@ bias and there are no other modifiers in my favor.

If I catch it, I will attempt to shift it back to an upright balanced position, or else lower the falling object in what appears to be a slow-motion fall to an open space on the ground.

If that fails and there is still time, I will attempt to use 1@4 TK Pulse P4@1 to push it away from the surrounding people and back toward an upright position; it might at least buy some time for people to get out from under it. Obviously, the 1@4 SAL instead of 1@2 gives me a 2% better chance with this.

--M. J. Young

Daisy screams out but you easily manage to catch it. It is clearly unstable the way it is so you lower it gently in a clear space away from the children.

There is a mad dash of parents who scoop up their children, which soon turns into a mob of tangled confusion owing to the fact that the children are tied together.

Those with more presence of mind angrily denounce Jim-Bob's safety. They are justifiably concerned that a company engineering weapons for their feuds can't engineer proper bracing scaffolding.

(Dice roll=22)

I'm undecided as to whether I want to step into this ring. I wonder about trying to invent some story about how Jim-Bob's antigrav safety devices obviously worked, but that would probably create much more trouble than it would help. I can't think of a better explanation at the moment, and in any case I expect it will blow over pretty quickly.

I grab a refill on the sarsaparilla or whatever I'm drinking, and a refill of whatever I see Daisy drinking, and turn my attention back to her. Offering her her drink, I say, "You all right? I think maybe we should talk. Walk with me somewhere?"

--M. J. Young

Jim-Bob is organizing a semblance of an investigation into the accident to appease the public as you walk away with Daisy. You're not convinced that much will come of it considering how much beer they are all drinking.

(Are you walking inside or outside the RBW compound?)

"It sure is a nice night," says Daisy admiring the setting sun. "You can barely smell Funk Hill."

I laugh. "Barely," I say, with a bit of tease.

I am moving away from people. If there's no real security for coming and going, we'll leave the area; if there appear to be private spaces inside, we'll head that way.

Once away from the crowd, I'll continue.

"Well, I have been meaning to talk about this for a while, from even before I disappeared that day you had the deputy over for dinner. See, you know that I'm not from around here. I'm not even from this planet. Truth is, I'm not even from this universe--I just sort of bounced in here from somewhere else. So you might say I'm about as alien as they come, even though my people are all human. And I've been to several other universes, and learned to do a few things that, well, seem a bit weird, maybe even a bit frightening. For example, I caught that falling chassis back there; I caught it with my mind, and put it on the ground gently.

"I thought I should tell you, because sometimes these strange things don't work the way they're supposed to. In fact, when I disappeared back at the farm, I quite literally disappeared--I apparently accidentally set up some sort of invisibility field around me so that no one could see me. Ask Jim-Bob, if you like; he sent me to spy on a competitor, and I came back with information because they couldn't see me at all. In any case, I might try something like that and have it go so badly that I get knocked into yet another universe, and if you didn't go with me and never saw me again, I wouldn't want you to think I'd run out on you."

I'll stop talking and give her a chance to digest and maybe reply.

--M. J. Young

"Well gosh darn!" she says. "Why didn't you tell me before? The Newark Nightly News printed my story about the aliens among us - that's you - and talking about mind powers would have been a great addition. I didn't have any pictures so NNN put they're own in. They don't look much like you, I'm afraid. Maybe I'll give them a new story when I go in next week to record my song."

Then the rest of what you said begins to sink in.

"I thought that was odd that you just up and left like that at dinner. I'm so glad you weren't hurt permanently! You're a hero for saving those children! But it sounds so dangerous. Thanks for telling me. Is there anything I can do to help if something bad happens next time?"

"Good question--and very thoughtful of you," I say with a bit of a smile. "Of course, the problem is that when things go wrong, there's no telling what will happen, so there's not really any certain way to prepare for it. Like this time, I tried to figure out how to communicate with everyone, and it wasn't until I got back up here to RBW that it occurred to me that I could write a note and leave it where someone would read it. For as smart as I'm supposed to be, I sure am stupid sometimes. You're right--it is dangerous to do stuff like that, because it can go very wrong. On the other hand, the only way to get better at anything is to practice, and it sure is good to be able to do something like that at times like today, when someone has to do something and I'm the only one who can.

"Oh, and it doesn't bother me in the least that the pictures they put with the stories don't look like me. I'd really rather people didn't know that I can do these strange things. Part of that is because they don't always work and they sometimes go wrong, so I don't want people depending on me to do it only to have it fail. Part of it is because I know that even Jesus grew tired and a bit impatient of all the people who wanted Him to do this or that for them because He had special powers, instead of just listening to what He was trying to tell them, and I don't have near the patience He has."

I'll pause for a few steps. If she says something, I'll follow her turn in the conversation; otherwise, I'll say this.

"You know, you're probably the best thing this world has, at least that I've yet found. You're gorgeous to the eye, hard-working, kind-hearted, and a great cook on top of all that. I sometimes wonder about taking you away from this world, but I don't know whether that would be better for you, only that it would be much worse for this world."

If the conversation turns otherwise, I'll tuck that bit away and probably use it later.

--M. J. Young

You say your piece. She blushes furiously. "You sure know how to flatter a gal, M.J. It sure would be an adventure to see the places you've been but what would Uncle Jesse do without me?"

I smile forlornly. "I suppose you are right. This world needs you; what else has it got? It would be cruel of me to deprive them of the sunshine of your presence.

"Of course, if the manage to blow themselves to oblivion, and you want to come with me then, consider this an open invitation.

"Well, we'd better get back to that party. My sarsaparilla's running out."

I smile again.

--M. J. Young

"Aw shucks, M.J. You are very sweet!" She takes your arm for the walk back.

When you get back there is a large bonfire made out of the support structure of the fallen chassis and musical instruments have been brought out. It is getting quite lively and people will start dancing pretty soon.

Ah, she called me sweet.

My mind races back to the main character in Promises, Promises. As I recall, he has discovered that the girl of his dreams, Fran, is having an affair with his boss, who borrows the key to his apartment for their trysts so that his wife won't find out, and--well, Fran attempts suicide and the guy saves her, and in the aftermath she says, "Why couldn't I have fallen in love with someone nice, like you." He becomes quite pleased, repeating it for the audience, and then says, "Of course, the fact that she just tried to commit suicide over someone else takes something out of it, but still...."

Well, she's probably going to stay with Uncle Jesse for a long time. Maybe if I'm here long enough and establish myself with a decent paycheck and a place to live, I can persuade her to marry me; but maybe I'm just feeling the loneliness of my lifestyle, remembering the poor girl who was killed at the club by thugs trying to steal my robot, the lives lost--all mine, lives I left behind.

I sigh and pat her hand as she holds my arm. A fresh glass of sarsaparilla sounds like the best thing I'm likely to get from this party, and I'd better get it; but having her on my arm when I return is a good thing and might win me a bit of status (or maybe a few enemies).

After I get my refill, I'll get my guitar. I'm sure I can keep up with anything these guys can play, and girls love a guy who plays the guitar--or at least, that's what I keep telling myself.

--M. J. Young

The party goes on all night. Your guitar is very appreciated and so is Daisy dancing in her short shorts. It is the weekend so you and she walk back to the farm together. She is still worried that they won't make the mortgage payments and Boss Hogg will foreclose on them. Still, the Dukes have faced many a challenge over their long history and Uncle Jesse is sure that the Good Lord will watch over them this time as well.

Deputy Enos drops by over the weekend. He tries to hide the fact he's here to see Daisy and in the end he's too shy to really say much to her. He chats to Bo and Luke a bit (they grew up together) and drives off.

You head out on Sunday for RBW and Daisy is very excited about her trip to Newark. She is headed out on Monday for a couple of days to the music company about the song she has written.

At the party, I'll sing my country song, "Not Going to Notice".

You know that Jesus said he'd come again,
And raise us all from death, immortal men,
And then he'll take us home
With a body like His own,
And we will be in heaven with Him then.

But I'm not going to notice, no siree,
'Cause when I fin'ly reach eternity
Through the laughter and the tears
For at least a million years
My precious savior Jesus is all I'll see.

They say the dead will rise out of their graves.
Now that's the kind of news that should make waves
And then we're going to fly
Just to meet Him in the sky,
And all the world will know that Jesus saves.

But I'm not going to notice....

They say that I can walk through any wall,
Or step off of high buildings and not fall,
And I'll mount with eagle's wings,
And do a million crazy things
That now I just can't understand at all.

But I'm not going to notice....

Maybe I'll meet Moses or have a chat with Paul.
Andrew, Peter, James and John--I'm sure to meet them all!
I'll have a chance to get to know each famous chosen man,
Eat breakfast with Isaiah and lunch with Abraham

Many of my friends will meet me there.
We'll have a great reunion in the air.
Won't you come now? Don't be late.
Turn to Jesus, then go straight.
It's a party to which nothing can compare.

But I'm not going to notice....

No, I'm not going to notice, no, not me.
'Cause when I finally reach eternity
Through the laughter and the tears
For at least a million years
My precious savior Jesus is all I'll see.

"So," I say to Daisy as we watch Enos and the boys through the window, "Do you think you'll marry him? You know he's sweet on you, but much too shy to say anything. Of course, you could have any guy on the planet, I expect, so choose well. You're a bit like my sister, you know. She wasn't the only American in Taiwan, but there weren't many, and she could speak Chinese fluently, teaching English to Chinese children but able to speak their own language more precisely than they could; and she was a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, a Korean martial arts style. One of the guys she knew told her one day that if she was going to get married, she was going to have to pick the groom, because everyone was too intimidated to ask her. But I dare say if you walked up to any guy on this planet--and particularly Enos--and said you were going to marry him, and he was going to have to live with you on the farm so you could continue to care for your uncle, you'd have a wedding planned and executed by the end of the week.

"I'm just saying. Of course, the music would be great, too. One thing, though, that I had to ask myself about my own music is, why am I doing this? Is it for fame, for money, to get the attention of girls, to preach the gospel, why? Think about that as you get together with the music company."

Back to work on Monday.

--M. J. Young

Daisy laughs when you mention Enos. "Oh, I know! He grew up with Bo and Luke and is very sweet but who knows if he'll ever get around to asking. It's too bad he works for that rotten sheriff. I guess he means well, but it would be a betrayal to the Duke clan to marry him. But anyways, even if I could have any man on the planet, I've got too many things to do before I settle down to marriage!"

You spend the week scrounging around. Your streak of bad luck with electrical parts continues but by the end of the week you bring some useful stuff back to RBW. The design is progressing fairly well. The chassis is finished being welded up and all the systems start taking on life now that there is some structure to attach them to.

(GE=23, Scrounge roll=07)

I praise their progress.

It's back to the farm for the weekend, then; and where to I get a bath or shower? Scrounging the dumps can't be the cleanest job on the planet.

--M. J. Young

There are showers at RBW, though not usually with hot water and access is restricted to save water. The water has a weird smell but it's better than what you're trying to get off. At the Duke farm, they take baths but not often more than once a week.

Daisy is over the moon when you see her. "Oh MJ, it was so exciting! I went in to Starr Studios and there were records everywhere. They said they couldn't do no recording that day but when they heard that I wrote my own songs they were real interested. So I gave them my best one and they're gonna find someone famous to record it. It only cost me 50 bottlecaps but it's gonna be on the radio! I'm gonna be famous!"

I cringe when Daisy says that she paid fifty bottlecaps to get her song recorded, but what do I know? In my world, that would be a sure sign she was being cheated. In this world, it may be the way people become famous, and from that wealthy. I tell her to keep me informed, but not to pay them any more money until they've actually done something she can confirm--the song plays on the radio, or at least she has a copy of the record herself.

I'll help with meals again while I'm at the Duke's, and catch up on news.

--M. J. Young

There is some other news. Daisy has taken a job as a waitress at the Boar's Nest to help make money to pay the mortgage on the farm that they're behind on.

While you're helping fry eggs and rat strips for breakfast, a woman comes in. She's pretty, with light brown hair and Bo immediately takes notice.

"Little Jilly-Rae Dobson? Is that you?"

"It's Jill now. I've just come to see if anyone can spare any bottlecaps for the orphanage fund."

I wish her luck with her job, and ask how much she's being paid.

"Do we have an orphanage around here, or are we trying to build one? Or is this an orphanage somewhere else?"

"How did a pretty young girl like you wind up collecting for an orphanage?"

"Well, the Dukes are pretty short of cash, struggling to meet their mortgage, and I'm afraid they're my favorite charity--what little I make at RBW goes to them, after meeting my expenses. But tell me more about this orphanage--maybe I can think of a way to help."

--M. J. Young

Second post

I suddenly find myself wondering how it is that the Dukes have a mortgage--how could someone else have owned the entire planet, or enough of it that they had to buy a farm instead of simply claiming a bit of land of their own? Something's odd about the the economics here.

--M. J. Young

It turns out that while everyone had originally staked their own claims to property when they first arrived on the planet, about 20 years ago there was a massive acid storm that devastated the countryside. The Hogg clan, who had been experimenting with hydroponics were spared most of the problems as they were the first to put their crops inside. They took advantage of the economic disaster to buy up most of the land in Bio-Hazzard County, pitching it as a sort of bailout to stimulate the economy. The mortgages were set up to allow the tenants to buy back their land, at significant interest.

Jill explains that she grew up at the orphanage, but now Boss Hogg wants the land back to tear it down and build a hotel or some shops. It's pretty run-down and they need to money for repairs or it will be shut down.

Bo is stricken by the news, "There's got to be something we can do to help!" It is pretty obvious all he really wants is to catch the eye of beautiful Jill.

Where is the Leverage team when you need them? Well, my character has no knowledge of them, so I guess it's up to me to think of something here.

So, Hogg holds the mortgage on pretty much everything then. Probably not RBW or that other business I visited--Fred's or whatever--because the acid storm wouldn't have made much difference to the junk business.

"I'm going to have to think on this a bit," I say.

"You know, Daisy's song is going to be on the radio soon, or at least, that's what was promised. I sing a bit, too; was a professional for a while, some time back. Maybe we could throw a benefit concert somewhere, sell tickets for people to come here Daisy and whoever else we can get. All proceeds to the orphanage. I'd devote a bit of practice and a concert to the cause. I'm sure Daisy would, too, particularly as it will get her more exposure and push her singing career forward. Bo, what other musicians are here somewhere that are worth paying to hear? Any we might be able to contact for help?"

--M. J. Young

"Why, that's a great idea, MJ!" says Bo. "I'll bet we can get the boys from the Jim-Jam Jamboree to play." He jumps up and heads off to see what he can do.

The rest of the weekend is filled with chores and singing after dinner, etc. You head back to work and things are progressing nicely on the project. No scrounging this week - you are needed crunching numbers in the engineering office and you are requested by the shop to help run some cabling through the chassis. It is an exhausting week.

Before I return to RBW, I do want to makes sure I didn't speak out of turn, as it were. I'll check with Daisy as to whether she's comfortable with performing her songs in public. I tell her I think it would be good for her singing career to get the public exposure, but I don't want to push her into something she doesn't want.

Also, sometime this weekend I want to see if the robot is sufficiently functional to run me through some practice.

I've had tough weeks before, and at least the work isn't dull and repetitious. I'm impressed by the project, and I compliment everyone involved.

Still, it's good to drag myself back to the farm at the end of the week.

--M. J. Young

Daisy is excited about the opportunity to sing for charity.
The robot operates fine for sparring and you get some practice in.

When you return to the farm, you make your greetings to Uncle Jesse and the boys. Bo has favourable reports of several musicians that would like to take part. While you are talking, Daisy runs out holding her radio. "I'm on the radio!" she cries. You listen. It isn't her singing but Daisy explains it is her song that the woman is singing.

"Well, good," I say. "You'll have to be certain to practice that one, so we can introduce you as the girl who wrote it."

Speaking of which, I need to practice my music this weekend. My guitar should be in good shape, since it's been coated with that super polymer to protect it against just about everything.

I am suddenly somewhat confused by this item:

Break-apart Yamaha replica portable piano, self-transporting electronic amplification, 500#

I know that I got it in Starsong Trinary System. I also know that when I versed out from that world I went to Haston City-State, and I used the 1@1 All My Things M+12@3 Teleport Objects In calls all my equipment to my location -20 skill to bring stuff to me from space--which definitely included the piano, which went with me after that, too. But it seems to be outside my weight limit, if 500# means that many pounds. Even now, this is my ninth world, and that gives me a 428# limit for equipment not on person.

I can understand if I don't have the piano; if I do, I'll certainly want to use it for the concert, assuming it's still in working order, and I'll be checking that.

I'll start putting together a list of songs, focusing on songs that I don't already use for magic.

--M. J. Young

I guess your piano slipped under the radar. We'll just say it didn't follow, it doesn't change anything.

Bo and Luke are working on arranging all the bands. The big question is where to hold the concert. A stage will have to be built.

Your guitar is in good shape and it is a lively weekend of songs.

Another busy week at RBW follows. You scrounge a bit at the beginning of the week and find some electrical components that might be serviceable to build your electrical weapon but the parts are quite corroded. You doubt that a weapon built out of these components would be trouble-free and likely wouldn't last very long.

(GE=13, Scounge=15)

On the other hand, electrical components which might manage the power necessary for a weapon would have to have some fairly heavy wiring in them--and even if it's only aluminum wiring (and who ever thought aluminum made good wiring?) it could be melted and retasked, and that would eliminate a fair amount of the corrosion. Even better if it's copper.

I'll examine the parts I found to see whether I think salvaging the metal from them is practical. That makes me wonder whether anyone on this planet does metallurgical work--it doesn't strike me as all that difficult to build a furnace for the purpose, and there's ample scrap. I'll ask about it.

--M. J. Young

RBW and others definitely have the capability to repurpose scrap metal by melting it down and reforging or whatever. They do it regularly but they prefer it when they can just tinker with what they find and repurpose it that way. It's up to you.

I'll get hold of whoever manages the quality of scrap (from observation, I'm sure someone will have emerged as the guy who says, "yeah, we can use that" or "no, that's no good"), and I'll present it to him. I take it from your description that there is good metal in these wires, and we could make better metal by melting it and burning off the corrosion. I ask if they know how to draw wire. (If not, I might be trying to figure out how to do something like that myself.)

--M. J. Young