To: buckaroo@bbi.fen
From: dontcallmefox@bbi.fen
Subject: Jonas transcript
Mr. Banzai,
Please find attached transcript of a tape recorder I left with one of my agents in Central Asia, on the DU retrieval team. His methodology, while simple, is surprisingly effective, although I have not been able to duplicate the quantity of quality of his work with any other agent using this method.
The gentleman in question has a fairly unique contract - he denied any normal wage, just a retirement package and a resupply package, and was a surprisingly shrewd bargainer. The capsule form of the package is that when he's done, he decides, or he turns 100, he gets a ride Up, and a permanent dwelling and stipend 'suitable to his needs'. Given his nature and affiliation, I'm reccomending that he be sent to Hephaestus, I'm sure that crusty dwarven bastard could find a use for him.
I've ran some rough projections, and if Jonas keeps working at this pace until he turns 100, he'll have gotten _by himself_, 25% of our goal for Central Asia. This is beyond impressive. The man in question is pushing 80, and our younger agents simply can't keep up with him. I wish we had ten Jonas, five here, five in the sandbox cleaning up after Desert Storm and it's followups (though I have to admit, the 'pan droids' are working out wonderfully there).
So, find attached the transcript of his initial 'biographic interview', which I feel would make a wonderful color piece.. with suitable editing.
Respectfully submitted,
BBI #1302, James Mulder
BEGIN TRANSCRIPT BBI-001302-A17-AUD05
"And so they tell me they want a biographical piece, any information or stories I can tell, hmph."
"Well, I suppose, no real harm can come of it, and I am doing a good work here. My name's Jonas Salk, no, I don't know a damn thing about no polio vaccine, and I'm not interested. I'm a prospector, I've panned for gold on the Yukon, mined diamonds in Australia and pulled my fortune out of Lucky Gulch, back in Alaska. Spent most of it on whores and booze, but I wasted some!" *cackles, then tape clicks off*
*this portion is interspersed with chewing sounds* "Anyway, I'm here in Central Asia, and I'm after a different catch than my normal fare. Today, instead of gold or diamonds, I'm hunting depleted uranium. Them boys of ours were pretty wasteful of them Deee Ewww rounds when they was over here hunting the damn VC, and there's a lot left over. Seems that the DU is still radioactive enough to cause some trouble, so..
Well, so I'm here to get rid of it! Damn if I'm gonna make this all poetic, see you what."
*tape interruption, next portion has campfire background noise*
"Anyway, I ran into a gent in a shiny blue jacket, looked like one of them rock'n'rollers. He was hanging at the counter of the assayer I was bringing a poke into, and he seemed to think I was tired of this tramping life. Damn if he wasn't right, though. I'm getting on in years and it's a little tougher to outrun the security boys or keep up with them youngsters anymore, damnit. So this blue boy, he says he's with an outfit, thinks he can use a man like me. I told him that if he stood me to a square meal, I'd listen to him, right enough.
So we settled down at a grease stop in town there, out in the backwoods of Californy, and he lays it out for me. His outfit is what you call 'altruistic', and I never much cottoned to big honkin words like that, but he explains it real good. Seems they're settin themselves to make good, just to counteract what folks are makin' bad. I seem enough of them poor darkies out in Africa chained to their damn diamond mines that I can really get behind the idea of doin' good for those that can't do no doin themselves.. "
*tape interruption*
"So this feller sets me up a deal. I got what he calls a 'permanent contract of support', and what he explains is, they keep me in beans and bullets and pay for my gas, and I just.. roam around here in the jungle and the plains, and I pull out this DU stuff. I ain't got no stinking quota, I ain't got no nine-to-five hours, I ain't got to wear no suit nor tie. All this man wants, I use their squawky box to find me some DU, and I pull it out of the ground.
They were talking about some highfalutin safety precautions they wanted me to take, and they provided me with a kit of fancy stuff, but I whittled that down right enough. I did my research, wikipedia and google, then I verified it with a pal of mine who works in the Army. I ain't no spring chicken, but I ain't no damn fool, neither! Way it works now, I keep my damn mask on most of the time, and I'm glad I do. I've gone through dozens of the little white bastards and they do the trick. The squawky box will say the outside is getting hot, but the inside stays nice and cool, even if they're a bit hard to breathe through. So, no I just chase the DU down with the squawky box, pan and pick an area till the box says it's clean, then bag up the DU and put a little button on it. The man says they can hear that button hollerin' from wherever, and they mosey on down and pick up the bag, dispose of it safely."
"I reckon I'm shavin some years off my life, maybe making my little wigglers all cross-eyed, but I just don't worry about that. I ain't had no real use for womenfolk in years, and I figure I've had about enough out of this life. 'Sides, the man says when I say I'm done, they'll take me out into space, see the sights. I reckon that'll be a hoot. So here I am. Every now and then I get a ride from them blue coated folks, and by and large they're real nice people. I'm in some damn fine country, even if it can't compare to the Yukon, and I'm doin a good work with my last few turns 'round this whirl."
*tape interruption, background sound of children at play.*
"I figger you folks can't see this, whoever's gonna be listening to this, but this here is the reason I keep up with this. Sure, I got my needs met, I get to stay away from most of the damn city folk, and I get to do what I do.. but it's about the kids. I might have a couple, never stayed in one place long enough to know, but.. well, damnit. It's all about them. They didn't fight that damn war, they ain't VC, or Charlie, or gooks. They's just kids."
*tape interruption, background noise ends*
"I'm feeling good these days. I'm getting better feed than I usedta, I'm keepin busy, and these blue coats got a neat setup of tent I'm using, works real well against these tropical bugs. They got me the right gear to keep me from gettin' the damn runs or the fever, and they dosed me with the vaccine for the local gunk, so I ain't gotta worry. All I do, I wander the land, chasin' the squawky box, and if a blue coat shows up says they got a hot spot, well, away I go. It's a good life, I figure in another few years I might take that trip, go see what I can pan out of the stars. Wouldn't that be a hoot..."
*tape ends*Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979
From: dontcallmefox@bbi.fen
Subject: Jonas transcript
Mr. Banzai,
Please find attached transcript of a tape recorder I left with one of my agents in Central Asia, on the DU retrieval team. His methodology, while simple, is surprisingly effective, although I have not been able to duplicate the quantity of quality of his work with any other agent using this method.
The gentleman in question has a fairly unique contract - he denied any normal wage, just a retirement package and a resupply package, and was a surprisingly shrewd bargainer. The capsule form of the package is that when he's done, he decides, or he turns 100, he gets a ride Up, and a permanent dwelling and stipend 'suitable to his needs'. Given his nature and affiliation, I'm reccomending that he be sent to Hephaestus, I'm sure that crusty dwarven bastard could find a use for him.
I've ran some rough projections, and if Jonas keeps working at this pace until he turns 100, he'll have gotten _by himself_, 25% of our goal for Central Asia. This is beyond impressive. The man in question is pushing 80, and our younger agents simply can't keep up with him. I wish we had ten Jonas, five here, five in the sandbox cleaning up after Desert Storm and it's followups (though I have to admit, the 'pan droids' are working out wonderfully there).
So, find attached the transcript of his initial 'biographic interview', which I feel would make a wonderful color piece.. with suitable editing.
Respectfully submitted,
BBI #1302, James Mulder
BEGIN TRANSCRIPT BBI-001302-A17-AUD05
"And so they tell me they want a biographical piece, any information or stories I can tell, hmph."
"Well, I suppose, no real harm can come of it, and I am doing a good work here. My name's Jonas Salk, no, I don't know a damn thing about no polio vaccine, and I'm not interested. I'm a prospector, I've panned for gold on the Yukon, mined diamonds in Australia and pulled my fortune out of Lucky Gulch, back in Alaska. Spent most of it on whores and booze, but I wasted some!" *cackles, then tape clicks off*
*this portion is interspersed with chewing sounds* "Anyway, I'm here in Central Asia, and I'm after a different catch than my normal fare. Today, instead of gold or diamonds, I'm hunting depleted uranium. Them boys of ours were pretty wasteful of them Deee Ewww rounds when they was over here hunting the damn VC, and there's a lot left over. Seems that the DU is still radioactive enough to cause some trouble, so..
Well, so I'm here to get rid of it! Damn if I'm gonna make this all poetic, see you what."
*tape interruption, next portion has campfire background noise*
"Anyway, I ran into a gent in a shiny blue jacket, looked like one of them rock'n'rollers. He was hanging at the counter of the assayer I was bringing a poke into, and he seemed to think I was tired of this tramping life. Damn if he wasn't right, though. I'm getting on in years and it's a little tougher to outrun the security boys or keep up with them youngsters anymore, damnit. So this blue boy, he says he's with an outfit, thinks he can use a man like me. I told him that if he stood me to a square meal, I'd listen to him, right enough.
So we settled down at a grease stop in town there, out in the backwoods of Californy, and he lays it out for me. His outfit is what you call 'altruistic', and I never much cottoned to big honkin words like that, but he explains it real good. Seems they're settin themselves to make good, just to counteract what folks are makin' bad. I seem enough of them poor darkies out in Africa chained to their damn diamond mines that I can really get behind the idea of doin' good for those that can't do no doin themselves.. "
*tape interruption*
"So this feller sets me up a deal. I got what he calls a 'permanent contract of support', and what he explains is, they keep me in beans and bullets and pay for my gas, and I just.. roam around here in the jungle and the plains, and I pull out this DU stuff. I ain't got no stinking quota, I ain't got no nine-to-five hours, I ain't got to wear no suit nor tie. All this man wants, I use their squawky box to find me some DU, and I pull it out of the ground.
They were talking about some highfalutin safety precautions they wanted me to take, and they provided me with a kit of fancy stuff, but I whittled that down right enough. I did my research, wikipedia and google, then I verified it with a pal of mine who works in the Army. I ain't no spring chicken, but I ain't no damn fool, neither! Way it works now, I keep my damn mask on most of the time, and I'm glad I do. I've gone through dozens of the little white bastards and they do the trick. The squawky box will say the outside is getting hot, but the inside stays nice and cool, even if they're a bit hard to breathe through. So, no I just chase the DU down with the squawky box, pan and pick an area till the box says it's clean, then bag up the DU and put a little button on it. The man says they can hear that button hollerin' from wherever, and they mosey on down and pick up the bag, dispose of it safely."
"I reckon I'm shavin some years off my life, maybe making my little wigglers all cross-eyed, but I just don't worry about that. I ain't had no real use for womenfolk in years, and I figure I've had about enough out of this life. 'Sides, the man says when I say I'm done, they'll take me out into space, see the sights. I reckon that'll be a hoot. So here I am. Every now and then I get a ride from them blue coated folks, and by and large they're real nice people. I'm in some damn fine country, even if it can't compare to the Yukon, and I'm doin a good work with my last few turns 'round this whirl."
*tape interruption, background sound of children at play.*
"I figger you folks can't see this, whoever's gonna be listening to this, but this here is the reason I keep up with this. Sure, I got my needs met, I get to stay away from most of the damn city folk, and I get to do what I do.. but it's about the kids. I might have a couple, never stayed in one place long enough to know, but.. well, damnit. It's all about them. They didn't fight that damn war, they ain't VC, or Charlie, or gooks. They's just kids."
*tape interruption, background noise ends*
"I'm feeling good these days. I'm getting better feed than I usedta, I'm keepin busy, and these blue coats got a neat setup of tent I'm using, works real well against these tropical bugs. They got me the right gear to keep me from gettin' the damn runs or the fever, and they dosed me with the vaccine for the local gunk, so I ain't gotta worry. All I do, I wander the land, chasin' the squawky box, and if a blue coat shows up says they got a hot spot, well, away I go. It's a good life, I figure in another few years I might take that trip, go see what I can pan out of the stars. Wouldn't that be a hoot..."
*tape ends*Wire Geek - Burning the weak and trampling the dead since 1979