Hmmm.
And now here I sit, thinking that this idea is just Really Cool, and totally stumped for what my avatar might do that wouldn't be totally derivative.
Yeah, there's classic cars and there's cool stuff... but the one thing characteristic of my living habits is, I like to -sprawl-. I like lots of space, and I like it relatively stable. I constantly complain that my current apartment is just too small, not enough space for bookshelves, my minis, gaming space...
Oh, and a solid, reliable internet connection, so I can keep up with things like this.![[Image: smile.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/smile.gif)
Hm. Ok. Idea percolating.
-----
So, the day had finally arrived. The set of converted trailers that would form my residence and office for the duration were currently being towed into place, courtesy of a few other fen who thought the idea was cool... and who liked the same sort of gaming I did, which was a big advantage in my plans. Their personal and financial support was a big part of what had made it all possible, after all.
It started with a simple idea. Like a lot of fen, I wanted to make the move Out. But I didn't like the idea of abandoning all the comforts of home, and I'd been cooped up in a small apartment for years. I wanted space, not just Space, if you'll pardon a few dice of pun damage. So I got together with a few friends and planned out the basics, talked Dad into getting a 'dane lawyer to write up the contract, and settled in with a rep from Dolomite to hack the finances into place.
The deal was simple. We, the fen, would head out into the Belt, find a nice solid chunk of nickle-iron (and hopefully some titanium, platinum, or other worthwhile shinies), and haul it into orbit. (We actually had a plan for this, which was what made them willing to talk to us, unlike some wild-sky'ers who'd popped the idea before us. Just say it involved some Israeli-designed catalytic hydrogen generators and most of the handwavium the bunch of us had been able to put together when we'd gotten started.)
We would provide a suitable habitat, thanks to said handwavium and some cargo containers and trailers, and lift Dolomite's crew and equipment into orbit. Then they'd mine the thing out, we'd ferry the results down to a landing site somewhere in Arizona, and we'd walk away with a rather nicely hollowed-out space rock and a wad or three of cash.
The ink wasn't even dry before we had five offers from various scientific and manufacturing concerns to buy it off of us when it was done. A ready-made habitat in orbit, of that size? All sorts of uses for that, from manufacturing to pharmaceuticals to the kind of esoteric research that most fen just say "slap some 'waves on it, dude, don't get so emo about it" to.
The result was that this was actually asteroid number seven that I was setting up on; by the time we had the third one in orbit other fen had seen the market potential and we ended up passing on a lot of the interest to them. Mostly because we'd made a metric buttload of money on the whole deal, and so had Dolomite, and I was getting tired of hauling. A year in space and I wanted my SPACE. So here we were, moving in at last.
I had to grin, once again, as I brought the last trailer-load down to the dock/airlock we'd set up, and saw the sign one of my partners had painted there.
It read, simply, "Turtles Welcome Here".--
"I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered...
R!
DOROTHY!
WAYNERIGHT!
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.
And now here I sit, thinking that this idea is just Really Cool, and totally stumped for what my avatar might do that wouldn't be totally derivative.
Yeah, there's classic cars and there's cool stuff... but the one thing characteristic of my living habits is, I like to -sprawl-. I like lots of space, and I like it relatively stable. I constantly complain that my current apartment is just too small, not enough space for bookshelves, my minis, gaming space...
Oh, and a solid, reliable internet connection, so I can keep up with things like this.
Hm. Ok. Idea percolating.
-----
So, the day had finally arrived. The set of converted trailers that would form my residence and office for the duration were currently being towed into place, courtesy of a few other fen who thought the idea was cool... and who liked the same sort of gaming I did, which was a big advantage in my plans. Their personal and financial support was a big part of what had made it all possible, after all.
It started with a simple idea. Like a lot of fen, I wanted to make the move Out. But I didn't like the idea of abandoning all the comforts of home, and I'd been cooped up in a small apartment for years. I wanted space, not just Space, if you'll pardon a few dice of pun damage. So I got together with a few friends and planned out the basics, talked Dad into getting a 'dane lawyer to write up the contract, and settled in with a rep from Dolomite to hack the finances into place.
The deal was simple. We, the fen, would head out into the Belt, find a nice solid chunk of nickle-iron (and hopefully some titanium, platinum, or other worthwhile shinies), and haul it into orbit. (We actually had a plan for this, which was what made them willing to talk to us, unlike some wild-sky'ers who'd popped the idea before us. Just say it involved some Israeli-designed catalytic hydrogen generators and most of the handwavium the bunch of us had been able to put together when we'd gotten started.)
We would provide a suitable habitat, thanks to said handwavium and some cargo containers and trailers, and lift Dolomite's crew and equipment into orbit. Then they'd mine the thing out, we'd ferry the results down to a landing site somewhere in Arizona, and we'd walk away with a rather nicely hollowed-out space rock and a wad or three of cash.
The ink wasn't even dry before we had five offers from various scientific and manufacturing concerns to buy it off of us when it was done. A ready-made habitat in orbit, of that size? All sorts of uses for that, from manufacturing to pharmaceuticals to the kind of esoteric research that most fen just say "slap some 'waves on it, dude, don't get so emo about it" to.
The result was that this was actually asteroid number seven that I was setting up on; by the time we had the third one in orbit other fen had seen the market potential and we ended up passing on a lot of the interest to them. Mostly because we'd made a metric buttload of money on the whole deal, and so had Dolomite, and I was getting tired of hauling. A year in space and I wanted my SPACE. So here we were, moving in at last.
I had to grin, once again, as I brought the last trailer-load down to the dock/airlock we'd set up, and saw the sign one of my partners had painted there.
It read, simply, "Turtles Welcome Here".--
"I give you the beautiful... the talented... the tirelessly atomic-powered...
R!
DOROTHY!
WAYNERIGHT!
--
Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.