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The Great Escape, Day Three – Part One
From the diary of Presidential Nominee Velociryx
Good news, and bad
Someone died today.
I guess in the backs of our minds, we all new it would happen eventually, but I do not believe that any of us predicted that Death would find the island so quickly, and it drove home the point that we are totally alone out here.
Isolated.
Beyond help, save for that we can provide for each other.
It happened during the survey expedition of Liberty.
Solo had found three eager volunteers to assist him in his efforts, and our four stalwarts headed out to map, chart, survey and report back.
Ludd checked out one of our eighteen wireless radios to the group, took one for himself, and I kept a third belted to my waist, so we could maintain contact with the group as they went about their business.
The morning hours went by uneventfully, with Mara of the Gypsy Harem continuing to direct her group, overseeing the task of assembling more Geodesics in order to give everyone some additional elbow room as we worked, LoA and company continued their wrestling match with the windmill, which proved fairly easy to assemble, but somewhat fickle when it came to actually generating power. They installed it on a low ridge, not far from the Quartermaster’s Hut, and the wind’s just fine. She’s spinning like crazy, but so far…no juice.
They’re working on it.
Flubber and the fishing crew departed well before sunup, so I didn’t get the chance to wish them luck today, but if the catch today is even two thirds as abundant as the one yesterday, they won’t need it. One thing I feel certain of after our first full day here, we might tire of the menu now and again, but this is a land of plenty, and even without our crops in the ground, we seem to be in no danger of starving. (found out later though, that he had already arranged to check out one of the wireless radios the night before…wise man)
Water, on the other hand….a bit more vexing, but for now, the local streams are holding, and we shall do our best to conserve what we’ve got.
Q’s been busy all day, cataloging our CD-Library and trying to put some order behind what we’ve got, and Ludd has been organizing the supply warehouse, giving everybody a little cubby space to stow their goods when not in use, and implementing a “checkout” system so that there’s no claims of “you took my stuff” later. A wise precaution, I think.
Someone, I don’t know who, displayed a fair bit of genius and rigged up a PA system, making innovative use of a bit of copper wire and some Conch Shells, mounted on poles approximately ten feet high, so now, if you’re in the immediate vicinity of the Quartermaster’s Hut, you can hear the snatches of conversation with the outside world as DF plies the bands in search of anything that might help us in our cause.
And speaking of DF, his continuing quest to locate Tubes met with some success, although not in the way we had expected.
Rather than Tubes himself, he made contact with a wealthy businessman in Kidatopia who seems most sympathetic to our cause, and eager to depart…eventually.
This news was greeted with much excitement by everyone as we continued going about the business of getting ourselves organized. That someone of prominence seemed to take a genuine interest in us and our chances bodes very well, and apparently this businessman, (a fellow named aneeshm) has a vast pool of assets at his disposal.
In the absence of a formal government, we informed him that we were not yet in a position to negotiate specifics, but agreed on a few things in principle, and there’s a tentative arrangement made to begin our first bit of importing! Rumors circulated throughout the morning hours of a transport ship carrying potato chips in an assortment of flavors was preparing to leave Kidatopia, bound for Liberty! (and apparently free, to boot!—for now, of course).
Advantage – apparently, the packaging the chips come in can sub for toilet paper…a thing we, in all our collected wisdom, forgot about entirely.
Well, not entirely.
One family apparently brought a quite limited supply, and I overheard the man (I’m afraid I never did learn his name) discussing the possibility of bartering some of it to another family.
His wife informed him in no uncertain terms that it would be the last deal he ever brokered, and I’m willing to bet she won that argument.
As for me, I put my impromptu shovel to good use, and arranged to borrow LoA’s mini-shovel, to put in the hands of a volunteer who wandered by, and we began digging a ditch around the Quartermaster’s hut.
As I bent my back into the work, I could not help but smiling, wondering what Kidicious Prime might think of one of the Presidential Nominees on Liberty out in the sun, breaking his back right alongside everyone else.
Probably, he would assume that it pointed to our latent Communist leanings. Never in his wildest imagining would it be possible for a Capitalist-Pig-Dog to display such a desire to labor along side those he means to exploit later.
Of course, this only served to demonstrate in my mind that he truly has not the least understanding of us or our ways.
Mayhaps, if I am elected as our first President, I shall write to him to open a dialogue, and attempt to explain the charted course of our progress.
Likely, that would meet with about as much success as our earlier conversations, but it was where my mind was wandering as I spent the time before lunch digging the ditch.
Eventually, we’ll install gutters here, to collect rain as it falls off the dome, and direct it into a cistern. With a bit of filtration, we should be able to augment our supply of drinking water thusly. At least, that’s the plan.
I stopped digging around lunchtime and had…I don’t actually know what to call it. It’s a broad, green leafy plant that manages to taste sweet and earthy at the same time. Whatever it’s called, it’s quickly becoming my favorite food on the island. Very refreshing.
And as I sat munching happily, with juices from the broadleaf dribbling down my chin, Flubber called up on the radio to report that the day’s catch was going to be even better than yesterday’s, and to save my appetite.
I glanced at the broadleaf almost guiltily, responded that I surely would, and then took another oversized bite.
Absolutely delicious.
Mrs. Flubber’s second day was a bit busier than her first, as we had no less than half a dozen sprains, abrasions, and other minor boo-boos reported throughout the day, and they kept her quite busy.
Not unexpected, but nothing major.
At least not until the death got called in.
About an hour past lunch, I was back to my digging…making good progress, too, when the radio chirped to life at my belt.
Solo has an even head on his shoulders, but the tone of his voice when he radioed in sent a chill down my spine.
“What’s the word?” I asked him quietly, stepping away from my volunteer in the trenches and speaking low.
“Sully’s down.” He called back. “I…we had just finished lunch near a ravine, spanned by an old log bridge. Three of us made it across safe, but a freak gust of wind hit Sully on the way over….lost his balance and fell….”
It felt like I had been kicked in the stomach.
Damn.
I didn’t know Sully well (he arrived yesterday in the evening with another boat of refugees), but this….I shook my head.
“Can you see him?”
“No…the rock wall is blocking our view. I heard him hit at least twice, and now we….”
There was a burst of static on the radio.
“No wait!….oh God…”
“Solo…what is it? What’s going on out there?”
“He’s alive….I can hear him calling us.”
Another kick in the stomach.
“Tell us where you are, and we’ll send help!”
He radioed their position and Mrs. Flubber was dispatched, along with a makeshift stretcher and four assistants, but the tickle in my gut told me it would be in vain.
Sadly, that tickle was not wrong.
Solo radioed back in less than half an hour later with the report that all sound from the ravine had ceased. It took the medical crew another two hours to reach the site on foot, and two additional hours to rig for climbing and make the descent.
We cannot say for certain how far down the ravine goes, but Sully landed on a small outcropping some sixty feet down.
I rigged up one of the radios and tied it into our PA system to keep everyone from asking me questions about what was going on, and for the rest of the afternoon, our band listened sadly to the rescue operation that was doomed to fail from the start.
And as the sun was sinking low in the sky, and we prepared for the evening’s election, we did so with a heavy heart, and with the report that the first of our fallen was coming home.
(to be continued…)
-=Vel=-
From the diary of Presidential Nominee Velociryx
Good news, and bad
Someone died today.
I guess in the backs of our minds, we all new it would happen eventually, but I do not believe that any of us predicted that Death would find the island so quickly, and it drove home the point that we are totally alone out here.
Isolated.
Beyond help, save for that we can provide for each other.
It happened during the survey expedition of Liberty.
Solo had found three eager volunteers to assist him in his efforts, and our four stalwarts headed out to map, chart, survey and report back.
Ludd checked out one of our eighteen wireless radios to the group, took one for himself, and I kept a third belted to my waist, so we could maintain contact with the group as they went about their business.
The morning hours went by uneventfully, with Mara of the Gypsy Harem continuing to direct her group, overseeing the task of assembling more Geodesics in order to give everyone some additional elbow room as we worked, LoA and company continued their wrestling match with the windmill, which proved fairly easy to assemble, but somewhat fickle when it came to actually generating power. They installed it on a low ridge, not far from the Quartermaster’s Hut, and the wind’s just fine. She’s spinning like crazy, but so far…no juice.
They’re working on it.
Flubber and the fishing crew departed well before sunup, so I didn’t get the chance to wish them luck today, but if the catch today is even two thirds as abundant as the one yesterday, they won’t need it. One thing I feel certain of after our first full day here, we might tire of the menu now and again, but this is a land of plenty, and even without our crops in the ground, we seem to be in no danger of starving. (found out later though, that he had already arranged to check out one of the wireless radios the night before…wise man)
Water, on the other hand….a bit more vexing, but for now, the local streams are holding, and we shall do our best to conserve what we’ve got.
Q’s been busy all day, cataloging our CD-Library and trying to put some order behind what we’ve got, and Ludd has been organizing the supply warehouse, giving everybody a little cubby space to stow their goods when not in use, and implementing a “checkout” system so that there’s no claims of “you took my stuff” later. A wise precaution, I think.
Someone, I don’t know who, displayed a fair bit of genius and rigged up a PA system, making innovative use of a bit of copper wire and some Conch Shells, mounted on poles approximately ten feet high, so now, if you’re in the immediate vicinity of the Quartermaster’s Hut, you can hear the snatches of conversation with the outside world as DF plies the bands in search of anything that might help us in our cause.
And speaking of DF, his continuing quest to locate Tubes met with some success, although not in the way we had expected.
Rather than Tubes himself, he made contact with a wealthy businessman in Kidatopia who seems most sympathetic to our cause, and eager to depart…eventually.
This news was greeted with much excitement by everyone as we continued going about the business of getting ourselves organized. That someone of prominence seemed to take a genuine interest in us and our chances bodes very well, and apparently this businessman, (a fellow named aneeshm) has a vast pool of assets at his disposal.
In the absence of a formal government, we informed him that we were not yet in a position to negotiate specifics, but agreed on a few things in principle, and there’s a tentative arrangement made to begin our first bit of importing! Rumors circulated throughout the morning hours of a transport ship carrying potato chips in an assortment of flavors was preparing to leave Kidatopia, bound for Liberty! (and apparently free, to boot!—for now, of course).
Advantage – apparently, the packaging the chips come in can sub for toilet paper…a thing we, in all our collected wisdom, forgot about entirely.
Well, not entirely.
One family apparently brought a quite limited supply, and I overheard the man (I’m afraid I never did learn his name) discussing the possibility of bartering some of it to another family.
His wife informed him in no uncertain terms that it would be the last deal he ever brokered, and I’m willing to bet she won that argument.
As for me, I put my impromptu shovel to good use, and arranged to borrow LoA’s mini-shovel, to put in the hands of a volunteer who wandered by, and we began digging a ditch around the Quartermaster’s hut.
As I bent my back into the work, I could not help but smiling, wondering what Kidicious Prime might think of one of the Presidential Nominees on Liberty out in the sun, breaking his back right alongside everyone else.
Probably, he would assume that it pointed to our latent Communist leanings. Never in his wildest imagining would it be possible for a Capitalist-Pig-Dog to display such a desire to labor along side those he means to exploit later.
Of course, this only served to demonstrate in my mind that he truly has not the least understanding of us or our ways.
Mayhaps, if I am elected as our first President, I shall write to him to open a dialogue, and attempt to explain the charted course of our progress.
Likely, that would meet with about as much success as our earlier conversations, but it was where my mind was wandering as I spent the time before lunch digging the ditch.
Eventually, we’ll install gutters here, to collect rain as it falls off the dome, and direct it into a cistern. With a bit of filtration, we should be able to augment our supply of drinking water thusly. At least, that’s the plan.
I stopped digging around lunchtime and had…I don’t actually know what to call it. It’s a broad, green leafy plant that manages to taste sweet and earthy at the same time. Whatever it’s called, it’s quickly becoming my favorite food on the island. Very refreshing.
And as I sat munching happily, with juices from the broadleaf dribbling down my chin, Flubber called up on the radio to report that the day’s catch was going to be even better than yesterday’s, and to save my appetite.
I glanced at the broadleaf almost guiltily, responded that I surely would, and then took another oversized bite.
Absolutely delicious.
Mrs. Flubber’s second day was a bit busier than her first, as we had no less than half a dozen sprains, abrasions, and other minor boo-boos reported throughout the day, and they kept her quite busy.
Not unexpected, but nothing major.
At least not until the death got called in.
About an hour past lunch, I was back to my digging…making good progress, too, when the radio chirped to life at my belt.
Solo has an even head on his shoulders, but the tone of his voice when he radioed in sent a chill down my spine.
“What’s the word?” I asked him quietly, stepping away from my volunteer in the trenches and speaking low.
“Sully’s down.” He called back. “I…we had just finished lunch near a ravine, spanned by an old log bridge. Three of us made it across safe, but a freak gust of wind hit Sully on the way over….lost his balance and fell….”
It felt like I had been kicked in the stomach.
Damn.
I didn’t know Sully well (he arrived yesterday in the evening with another boat of refugees), but this….I shook my head.
“Can you see him?”
“No…the rock wall is blocking our view. I heard him hit at least twice, and now we….”
There was a burst of static on the radio.
“No wait!….oh God…”
“Solo…what is it? What’s going on out there?”
“He’s alive….I can hear him calling us.”
Another kick in the stomach.
“Tell us where you are, and we’ll send help!”
He radioed their position and Mrs. Flubber was dispatched, along with a makeshift stretcher and four assistants, but the tickle in my gut told me it would be in vain.
Sadly, that tickle was not wrong.
Solo radioed back in less than half an hour later with the report that all sound from the ravine had ceased. It took the medical crew another two hours to reach the site on foot, and two additional hours to rig for climbing and make the descent.
We cannot say for certain how far down the ravine goes, but Sully landed on a small outcropping some sixty feet down.
I rigged up one of the radios and tied it into our PA system to keep everyone from asking me questions about what was going on, and for the rest of the afternoon, our band listened sadly to the rescue operation that was doomed to fail from the start.
And as the sun was sinking low in the sky, and we prepared for the evening’s election, we did so with a heavy heart, and with the report that the first of our fallen was coming home.
(to be continued…)
-=Vel=-
Crab...it's what's for dinner!
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