I forgot the cheese.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
SF 3 day vacation post
Seward Street Slides (part 1 of 2)
“I can’t believe this exists.”
“Well, it does, now help us with the cardboard.”
“No, I mean it doesn’t make any sense. Some city council had to get together and decide that ‘Yes, we will build this deathtrap…for the kids.’”
“Just hold it like this and make yourself into a cardboard taco,” Jean demoed the method a rider would take to make it down. “And make sure you keep your hands tucked in when you pull the sides up.”
We were enclosed in a valley between two lines of housing whose incline had so much more rise than run that a fall backwards while climbing up had been a seriously possibility.
I looked down the concrete slides. Their twisting paths ran parallel to each other and into a sand pit filled with all manner of discarded cardboard: pizza…Amazon…Office Depot. The wear and tear from the weight of a million asses wore off the original preschool green and smoothed the inside of the slides to a reflective grey. From up here they seemed to advance about 10 feet forward for a 40 foot drop.
“I mean, this wasn’t repurposed from being some sort of San Francisco garbage chute or something?” I implored the local residents for an answer as I heard the tentative scraping of one aligning himself before takeoff behind me. I turned around in time to see the top of Tony’s head disappear over the edge.
Halfway down, the slide flattened out for just long enough to launch him in the air as it dropped a final time.
“Uaah!”
Hmm…that was a sound we’ve never heard Tony make before.
He skidded to a stop and said with his usual composition, “Whoa, got air that time.” Tony climbed up the side of the slide with our white piece of cardboard from a microwave box. A large, smooth sticker on the bottom made it the “fast one” compared to another random brown piece we brought. He placed it back at the top of the slide.
I stared down the length of the concrete chute and said to no one in particular, “Can someone hold my cell?” I sat down on top of the cardboard and skidded forward, tentatively. I pictured bloodied knuckles trying impossibly to clutch each other to stop the bleeding. I toyed with the idea of the cardboard disintegrating going down and burning me in the fires of some impossible hyper-friction. In half a second I thought all the things diving boards, rooftops, and modified fireworks made me think. What was I doing? 24 and still putting myself in situations where physical damage was a possible consequence.
“I can’t believe this exists.”
“Well, it does, now help us with the cardboard.”
“No, I mean it doesn’t make any sense. Some city council had to get together and decide that ‘Yes, we will build this deathtrap…for the kids.’”
“Just hold it like this and make yourself into a cardboard taco,” Jean demoed the method a rider would take to make it down. “And make sure you keep your hands tucked in when you pull the sides up.”
We were enclosed in a valley between two lines of housing whose incline had so much more rise than run that a fall backwards while climbing up had been a seriously possibility.
I looked down the concrete slides. Their twisting paths ran parallel to each other and into a sand pit filled with all manner of discarded cardboard: pizza…Amazon…Office Depot. The wear and tear from the weight of a million asses wore off the original preschool green and smoothed the inside of the slides to a reflective grey. From up here they seemed to advance about 10 feet forward for a 40 foot drop.
“I mean, this wasn’t repurposed from being some sort of San Francisco garbage chute or something?” I implored the local residents for an answer as I heard the tentative scraping of one aligning himself before takeoff behind me. I turned around in time to see the top of Tony’s head disappear over the edge.
Halfway down, the slide flattened out for just long enough to launch him in the air as it dropped a final time.
“Uaah!”
Hmm…that was a sound we’ve never heard Tony make before.
He skidded to a stop and said with his usual composition, “Whoa, got air that time.” Tony climbed up the side of the slide with our white piece of cardboard from a microwave box. A large, smooth sticker on the bottom made it the “fast one” compared to another random brown piece we brought. He placed it back at the top of the slide.
I stared down the length of the concrete chute and said to no one in particular, “Can someone hold my cell?” I sat down on top of the cardboard and skidded forward, tentatively. I pictured bloodied knuckles trying impossibly to clutch each other to stop the bleeding. I toyed with the idea of the cardboard disintegrating going down and burning me in the fires of some impossible hyper-friction. In half a second I thought all the things diving boards, rooftops, and modified fireworks made me think. What was I doing? 24 and still putting myself in situations where physical damage was a possible consequence.
The Swimmer Part 3 (Draft)
Repairs on The Indigo Virgo were coming along smoothly. With the ship berthed, the crew could work on exterior damage without need for bulky EVA suits. Anton stood on the floor of the docking bay, supervising. He concentrated on the work schedule on his clipboard, but couldn’t help looking around the bay. It was massive to hold their merchant vessel and it was only a part of a much larger ship. They had negotiated terms via written messages. Their host did not ask for any repayment and even offered additional supplies and assistance. His father had turned down their host’s offer, he seemed keen on having the crew keep to itself during their stay. He wanted to repair the ship and leave ASAP. But even without the extra help, The Indigo Virgo was on time to be operational before the pirate vessel was likely to return. The radio clasped on Anton’s hip hissed to life.
“Anton my boy, you there?” It was the chief engineer.
“Go ahead chief,” he replied.
“I need an extra set of engine parts down here, can you grab them for me in the machine shop?”
“On my way.” Anton pushed off from the ground and floated up in the direction of one of The Indigo Virgo’s hatches. He entered the ship and made his way down to the machine shop. Anton was gathering tools into a crate when his raid hissed with a burst of static. “Chief, is that you? I’m at the machine shop.”
“No it’s not. Hi there.” It was a feminine sounding voice Anton didn’t recognize.
“Hello, who’s this?”
“I’m the pilot of the ship you’re docked in.”
Anton raised an eyebrow, this had to be a joke. “Okay, really. Who is this?”
“I’m serious Anton. I’ve tuned in to your radio frequency.”
“Why would you do something like that?”
“I wanted someone to talk to. It’s so rare for me to get the chance to. But the others on your ship, they’re all suspicious of me. You’re the only one that seems to have my… curiosity.”
“You’re serious?” Anton looked down at the radio in his hand. “Listen, I’d like to talk to you too, but I can’t right now.”
“I know. Go finish up your work shift.”
“I have about two hours left to go on my shift. How can I contact you to tell you I’m done?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll contact you.”
Monday, October 5, 2009
The Swimmer Part 2 (draft)
A beeping from Tracy’s station interrupted the command crew’s staring at the new ship on screen. She began, a hint of disbelief in her voice, “We’re getting a message from it skipper, text only. It’s offering to render assistance.”
Anton watched his father sit back down in his chair and mull over the information. A moment of silence passed before Anton spoke up, “It wants to help. Isn’t that a good thing?”
“We don’t know anything about that ship,” he replied. “It comes out of nowhere and happens to want to help? It can’t be that simple.” Anton’s father shook his head.
Anton offered, “We’d offer help if we came across a damaged ship, wouldn’t we?”
“It’s not the same.”
“We’re sitting ducks out here. You said so yourself, the raider ship is coming back. What have we got to lose?”
Anton’s father nodded slowly. “Alright. Send a reply. We’ll accept any aid it’s willing to give.”
Tracy relayed the message. As soon as she did, the massive ship began to draw towards The Indigo Virgo. As it came closer, the crew saw that the hull of the ship was not a smooth contiguous surface. Its surface was arrayed with spires and antennae, all seemingly reaching out from the ship. It soon dwarfed The Indigo Virgo and still it continued course.
“Skipper?” Tracy said nervously, her eyes affixed on the looming ship.
“Hold fast. We couldn’t outrun it at this point anyways.”
It passed over them and came to a halt. Along a section of its underside, a sliver of light emerged and began to widen. It continued to enlarge and the crew realized it was an opening hatch. The ship lowered, taking The Indigo Virgo aboard into a vast bay. The bay door closed beneath them and mechanical arms from overhead came down to securely clamp The Indigo Virgo into place.
“For a moment there I was almost expecting it to have artificial gravity,” Anton commented.
“Well,” said Anton’s father. “Shall we go meet our would-be savior?”
Sunday, October 4, 2009
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