Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2019 9:10 pmle snip!
NationStates
Because sometimes even national leaders just want to hang out
https://forum.nationstates.net/
Personification Life, the Universe & Everything 2 [OOC OPEN]
Page 9 of 9
Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2019 9:10 pmle snip!
Posted: Wed Oct 23, 2019 7:20 pmAnger.
So much anger.
And fear as well.
The fear that sits in the deepest pit of one's soul, making one totally lose appetite.
Gordon Felton knew that eating such a large breakfast on a Thursday morning was a mistake. He should've gone for his normal protein bar but he just had to splurge on sausages and eggs.
The toast was worth it, though. Bread you baked yourself always did taste a little better.
Dozens of protesters surrounded his car, jerking it too and fro with the combined might of sixty or so hands. He'd just gotten it repainted, after that asshole on the 15 who had nodded off at the wheel nearly killed him. But he was far from the 15 now, on a little road that led up to his office.
One of them tore off his left mirror.
He could hear the yelling quite clearly through the thin glass and frame. Their anger was quite justified, he figured, but they were fools if they thought they could stop it now.
Proctor-Nagel was the largest general goods supplier this side of the world. Row upon row of pallets, stacked high with column upon column of boxes, awaited him a mere 30 feet from where the rowdy mass had congregated. Today was the first shipment to Argyre-Major, the United States' premier colonial holding on the Red Planet.
Flash-frozen food, brick and mortar, steel pipes and tubes, syringes and pills - all these were wrapped tight in plastic and then sheathed in plastic containers to protect them from solar radiation. The cardboard was just for show - a nice reminder of the normalcy of home, and also a convenient place to stamp all kinds of corporate logos.
After all, acquiring exclusive rights had been quite expensive.
He wondered if Arjun from legal had been stopped as well. Probably would've yelled at them to get out of his way and then tried to run them over - 20 years a consultant tended to inspire as much irritation as it did patience.
One of the crowd jumped on the hood of the car. He looked young - couldn't have been more than 19 - and real scared. Was probably trying to impress the girl in the crowd who reached an arm after him, trying to save him from his own stupid bravado.
The kid punched the window. That would be an expensive replacement.
Tears ran down his face, blood down his wrist. He slipped off the hood and licked at his wounds. The crowd swallowed him up, no doubt some of them going to render medical aid. He turned back for a moment, his face contorted in an ugly mess of snot and salt. He was defeated by himself.
But his eyes, Gordon thought, such life in those eyes.
"Gordon? Are you listening?"
"Hm?"
"Look, if you're not interested, I can go."
Gordon looked up from his plate. Before him sat her.
He had ended up in middle-management, pissing away his life on optimizing workflows while she had gone on to cover the Red-Blue War. Three long-forms on the life of Martian insurgents - their struggles, their families, and their daily bread. Endless praise from social media, and of course from a few respectable talking heads on TV and podcasts.
Naturally, because it wouldn't do to be accused of turning Red, two long-forms on the brave Terran soldiers going over to restore order and keep the minerals flowing back to a hungry blue marble. They didn't win as many awards, and she got accused of being a worthless centrist, but for what it was worth he thought they were well-written anyways.
Wrong, of course, but well-written. The bureaucrats of the world needed cheering up now and again, assurances that their pencil-pushing would one day bear fruits for the betterment of all humankind. She delivered admirably, even if it probably cost her a place in the history books.
"I'm sorry, I'm just... I've had a long day at work."
"Ah, haven't we all? It's good to see you again, anyways. Seems like I never see you anymore."
She cultivate a little herb garden on her balcony, always liked to prune from it whenever he was over for dinner. She had a dozen pots of lemongrass scattered around the house.
"Yeah, well, work's been busy since the war ended."
"Right, right... You're going on the Unity next week, right? Hope you prepared for zero-G, it's kind of nauseating at first."
He got up, his phone flashing a page from management. He leaned in for a hug.
"Sorry, gotta take this. I'll talk to you more once I get back, yeah?"
She sighed. He thought it was cute, how she bothered to make time for him after all this. She leaned in.
"You trying out some new cologne?"
"You don't like it?"
"No, no. I mean, it's a little off. Fruity smells aren't very stylish. But it's... nice."
"Figured you'd like it."
So much anger.
And fear as well.
The fear that sits in the deepest pit of one's soul, making one totally lose appetite.
Gordon Felton knew that eating such a large breakfast on a Thursday morning was a mistake. He should've gone for his normal protein bar but he just had to splurge on sausages and eggs.
The toast was worth it, though. Bread you baked yourself always did taste a little better.
Dozens of protesters surrounded his car, jerking it too and fro with the combined might of sixty or so hands. He'd just gotten it repainted, after that asshole on the 15 who had nodded off at the wheel nearly killed him. But he was far from the 15 now, on a little road that led up to his office.
One of them tore off his left mirror.
He could hear the yelling quite clearly through the thin glass and frame. Their anger was quite justified, he figured, but they were fools if they thought they could stop it now.
Proctor-Nagel was the largest general goods supplier this side of the world. Row upon row of pallets, stacked high with column upon column of boxes, awaited him a mere 30 feet from where the rowdy mass had congregated. Today was the first shipment to Argyre-Major, the United States' premier colonial holding on the Red Planet.
Flash-frozen food, brick and mortar, steel pipes and tubes, syringes and pills - all these were wrapped tight in plastic and then sheathed in plastic containers to protect them from solar radiation. The cardboard was just for show - a nice reminder of the normalcy of home, and also a convenient place to stamp all kinds of corporate logos.
After all, acquiring exclusive rights had been quite expensive.
He wondered if Arjun from legal had been stopped as well. Probably would've yelled at them to get out of his way and then tried to run them over - 20 years a consultant tended to inspire as much irritation as it did patience.
One of the crowd jumped on the hood of the car. He looked young - couldn't have been more than 19 - and real scared. Was probably trying to impress the girl in the crowd who reached an arm after him, trying to save him from his own stupid bravado.
The kid punched the window. That would be an expensive replacement.
Tears ran down his face, blood down his wrist. He slipped off the hood and licked at his wounds. The crowd swallowed him up, no doubt some of them going to render medical aid. He turned back for a moment, his face contorted in an ugly mess of snot and salt. He was defeated by himself.
But his eyes, Gordon thought, such life in those eyes.
"Gordon? Are you listening?"
"Hm?"
"Look, if you're not interested, I can go."
Gordon looked up from his plate. Before him sat her.
He had ended up in middle-management, pissing away his life on optimizing workflows while she had gone on to cover the Red-Blue War. Three long-forms on the life of Martian insurgents - their struggles, their families, and their daily bread. Endless praise from social media, and of course from a few respectable talking heads on TV and podcasts.
Naturally, because it wouldn't do to be accused of turning Red, two long-forms on the brave Terran soldiers going over to restore order and keep the minerals flowing back to a hungry blue marble. They didn't win as many awards, and she got accused of being a worthless centrist, but for what it was worth he thought they were well-written anyways.
Wrong, of course, but well-written. The bureaucrats of the world needed cheering up now and again, assurances that their pencil-pushing would one day bear fruits for the betterment of all humankind. She delivered admirably, even if it probably cost her a place in the history books.
"I'm sorry, I'm just... I've had a long day at work."
"Ah, haven't we all? It's good to see you again, anyways. Seems like I never see you anymore."
She cultivate a little herb garden on her balcony, always liked to prune from it whenever he was over for dinner. She had a dozen pots of lemongrass scattered around the house.
"Yeah, well, work's been busy since the war ended."
"Right, right... You're going on the Unity next week, right? Hope you prepared for zero-G, it's kind of nauseating at first."
He got up, his phone flashing a page from management. He leaned in for a hug.
"Sorry, gotta take this. I'll talk to you more once I get back, yeah?"
She sighed. He thought it was cute, how she bothered to make time for him after all this. She leaned in.
"You trying out some new cologne?"
"You don't like it?"
"No, no. I mean, it's a little off. Fruity smells aren't very stylish. But it's... nice."
"Figured you'd like it."
Posted: Thu Oct 24, 2019 4:49 pmAgy, niiice!
Alright hip cats and crazy kittens, it's time to shuffle over to here:
Consider this thread closed. No posting. I won't request a Mod lock yet; I may need to grab code.
Alright hip cats and crazy kittens, it's time to shuffle over to here:
Consider this thread closed. No posting. I won't request a Mod lock yet; I may need to grab code.