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[ TRANSMISSION BEGIN ]
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[ DATATYPE: Text ]
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[ TRANSMIT-SIGNATURE: e48898b0-571f-11ea-93da-525400010444 ]
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[ TRANSMIT-ORIGIN: 400927c2b217a4ac811785d30497ffda ]
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This is the first of a series of interviews conducted on the minor planet
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AFZ118-28, requisite to the mission of the light jumpship "Gazellier".
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Interviews are recorded and transcribed, and relayed to QEC for public record.
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||||
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||||
The mining colony on minor planet AFZ118-28, much like its host planet, was
|
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never given a true name. Those who work and live here, rather than using the
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||||
unwieldy planetary designation, refer to their home among the stars as "Hot
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Rock". This name derives from the fact that the primary resource being
|
||||
extracted, hydrogen, has a nasty habit of exploding when handled improperly.
|
||||
"Hot Rock incidents" punctuate the historical narrative the locals tell.
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Everyone knows someone, or a friend of a someonem, who's run afoul of the safety
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||||
standards and paid the - often capital - price for it.
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||||
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AFZ118-28 has a dense and unwelcoming atmosphere. The people who live and work
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here are relegated to their vast indoor compound at all times, except by the use
|
||||
of a protective suit which can be worn in the outside atmosphere for no more
|
||||
than a few hours. Extraction itself is done remotely with drone units, however
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refining and preperation for shipping is still overseen by human hands owing to
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||||
the rather ancient nature of the equipment they are outfitted with. The Hot Rock
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||||
doesn't see a lot of visitors. Save for the occasional hauler ferrying away the
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products of their efforts, the laborers and their families sit more-or-less
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||||
alone in their stellar neighborhood, relying on their own hydroponics and
|
||||
livestock systems to maintain themselves in an adequate self-sufficience.
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||||
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Ainlen Delorrey is a dock operator with an uncharacteristic softness about them.
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Their voice and demeanor pose a striking contrast to the rather dangerous nature
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of the work they do. We meet at the commissary-cum-cafe to talk over a pot of
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tea.
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---
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Not bad huh? One of the folks who came up initially was a big fan of tea back
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home, brought some clippings with her on the journey here. We grow it in the
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community hydroponics bay. I was always more of a coffee person myself, but,
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being a fair few lightyears from earth, I'm not going to complain about a nice
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little treat like this. It's grown on me. I like the roasted tea we make from the
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late-season leaves the most. Sometimes I get lucky though, a hauler passing
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through will have a bit of coffee they're willing to part with. Keeps me from
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forgetting the taste. I do wish we had a hot garden, I could try my hand at
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parenting a coffee tree. Not that I've had much of a green thumb. I was a
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fueling operator before I came here, and before that a warehouse grunt. You
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know, a bit of a meathead.
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(At this, they smirk and make a mocking 'flexing' motion.)
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I'm not even sure why I put in the job-transfer request to come up here. I think
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I just got bored. Needed a change of scenery. Apparently that change was from a
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vibrant life-supporting world to a labrynth of steel-clad hallways and a minor
|
||||
existential risk of an explosion at any time. You know we're sitting on top of a
|
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massive core of frozen hydrogen? Luckily the planet's atmosphere doesn't have
|
||||
any oxygen to spark an explosion, but, once it's in the refinery it becomes a
|
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real risk. We had a small incident a few weeks ago when a piece of refining
|
||||
equipment failed and caused a spark. Luckily no one was nearby, but we lost a
|
||||
few hundred tonnes of hydrogen in the subsequent leak the blast caused. All in
|
||||
all pretty mundane compared to some of the other stories people around here will
|
||||
tell ya.
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||||
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So, dock work, right? Not the most exciting stuff honestly, not entirely sure
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why you're so interested in chatting with me about it. Those guys in refining
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have way better stories. They're a solid mix of mad scientists and floor
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||||
supervisors angry at the mad scientists. Fun folks to have a drink with.
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The sort of dock work I do is just moving stuff from storage to haulers, and
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organizing the warehouse stock when there's no ships around. I've got a pretty
|
||||
good safety record for myself, so it's been pretty dull as far as jobs go.
|
||||
|
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I have had a close call, though. Exactly one. See, on the smaller ships we can't
|
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use our lifts, since they're designed for large ships, and instead we just have
|
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to use muscle-suits. Real old-fashioned dockwork, picking stuff up and moving it
|
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from point A to point B, piece by piece. Those muscle-suits are helpful but that
|
||||
sort of work still puts a heck of a lot of strain on your muscles. Luckily we
|
||||
don't get a whole lot of small ships in here. So, we're loading up this
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short-jump hauler. It's only going to the next system over, so I guess the
|
||||
buyers didn't see fit to pay for a more well-equipped ship. I'm not sure when
|
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this thing was built, but it was missing most of the modern safety provisions
|
||||
you see on basically any other ship. I'm not even sure why the ground crew
|
||||
cleared them for loading. They must have been paying a big premium.
|
||||
|
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Anyways, I'm rambling. The incident. I was carrying a load of hydrogen canisters
|
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over to the ship, grumbling a bit in my head about how much I hate
|
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muscle-loading. Well, I must not have been paying great attention because I hit
|
||||
the edge of the box against the loading bay door. From what I can guess, that
|
||||
caused a cansiter head-gasket to fail and, well, gas under pressure likes to
|
||||
leak. Since this ship didn't have any sensors or failsafes in its cargo bay for
|
||||
flammables, the leak went unnoticed. We finished loading the ship, and waited
|
||||
for ground crew to send our customers off to their next destination. Something
|
||||
must have sparked inside. Because the next thing I see is a giant piece of the
|
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rear doors of the ship making a bee-line for my head. Either there's some kind
|
||||
of god watching out for me, or my reflexes were just working overtime, but in a
|
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fraction of a second I watched as this giant, angry piece of shrapnel sped
|
||||
uncomfortably close past my ear. I still remember the weird sort of wave of
|
||||
pressure I felt as it passed by. The ship was... well, at least the cockpit
|
||||
safety measures were working. The crew had to spend a good week and a half in
|
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the med quarters recuperating from their burns and explosive shock. I'm not sure
|
||||
what became of them after they were picked up by their "rescue-ship", but I have
|
||||
yet to see another ship land for loading that didn't have proper safety sensors.
|
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It's anyone's guess as to wether that's because ground crew won't let 'em land,
|
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or because the people sending them finally got some sense into their heads.
|
||||
|
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Y'know, I remember when I was in school I read about some explosives mishaps
|
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that happened way way back in the 1920s and 30s. I think I always figured that
|
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was just carelessness. It's not like those little stories went into detail about
|
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the sort of failures-of-the-system to actually take precaution with their cargo.
|
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Didn't even consider it was really a threat, now, y'know, given we've figured
|
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out how to travel hundreds of light years in a sort of ice-bath coma. Guess it's
|
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an easy thing to overlook.
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(They look at their wrist, checking the time)
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I'm sorry, I've gotta be on shift in a few minutes and I like to take my time
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getting ready. Enjoy the tea! If you're still around later in the year, you'll
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have to try some of that roast tea I was telling you about.
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||||
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[ TRANSMISSION END ]
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|
@ -1,3 +1,4 @@
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|||
0Gazellier - Explosion at the Docks /Gazellier/02_the_docks.txt
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0Gazellier - hello to the great abyss /Gazellier/01_hello_to_the_great_abyss.txt
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0reypen - Voice Command Initiated... /reypen/23200219.txt
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0reypen - Figured It Out /reypen/23200209.txt
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|
127
gopher/rss.xml
127
gopher/rss.xml
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@ -2,6 +2,133 @@
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|||
<title>Cosmic Voyage</title>
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||||
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage</link>
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||||
<description>Messages from the human stellar diaspora</description>
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||||
<item>
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||||
<title>Gazellier - Explosion at the Docks</title>
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<author>totooria@cosmic.voyage (totooria)</author>
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<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Gazellier/02_the_docks.txt</link>
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<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Gazellier/02_the_docks.txt</guid>
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<pubDate>Mon, 24 Feb 2020 17:27:09 GMT</pubDate>
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<description><![CDATA[<pre>
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||||
[ TRANSMISSION BEGIN ]
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||||
[ DATATYPE: Text ]
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||||
[ TRANSMIT-SIGNATURE: e48898b0-571f-11ea-93da-525400010444 ]
|
||||
[ TRANSMIT-ORIGIN: 400927c2b217a4ac811785d30497ffda ]
|
||||
|
||||
This is the first of a series of interviews conducted on the minor planet
|
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AFZ118-28, requisite to the mission of the light jumpship "Gazellier".
|
||||
Interviews are recorded and transcribed, and relayed to QEC for public record.
|
||||
|
||||
The mining colony on minor planet AFZ118-28, much like its host planet, was
|
||||
never given a true name. Those who work and live here, rather than using the
|
||||
unwieldy planetary designation, refer to their home among the stars as "Hot
|
||||
Rock". This name derives from the fact that the primary resource being
|
||||
extracted, hydrogen, has a nasty habit of exploding when handled improperly.
|
||||
"Hot Rock incidents" punctuate the historical narrative the locals tell.
|
||||
Everyone knows someone, or a friend of a someonem, who's run afoul of the safety
|
||||
standards and paid the - often capital - price for it.
|
||||
|
||||
AFZ118-28 has a dense and unwelcoming atmosphere. The people who live and work
|
||||
here are relegated to their vast indoor compound at all times, except by the use
|
||||
of a protective suit which can be worn in the outside atmosphere for no more
|
||||
than a few hours. Extraction itself is done remotely with drone units, however
|
||||
refining and preperation for shipping is still overseen by human hands owing to
|
||||
the rather ancient nature of the equipment they are outfitted with. The Hot Rock
|
||||
doesn't see a lot of visitors. Save for the occasional hauler ferrying away the
|
||||
products of their efforts, the laborers and their families sit more-or-less
|
||||
alone in their stellar neighborhood, relying on their own hydroponics and
|
||||
livestock systems to maintain themselves in an adequate self-sufficience.
|
||||
|
||||
Ainlen Delorrey is a dock operator with an uncharacteristic softness about them.
|
||||
Their voice and demeanor pose a striking contrast to the rather dangerous nature
|
||||
of the work they do. We meet at the commissary-cum-cafe to talk over a pot of
|
||||
tea.
|
||||
|
||||
---
|
||||
|
||||
Not bad huh? One of the folks who came up initially was a big fan of tea back
|
||||
home, brought some clippings with her on the journey here. We grow it in the
|
||||
community hydroponics bay. I was always more of a coffee person myself, but,
|
||||
being a fair few lightyears from earth, I'm not going to complain about a nice
|
||||
little treat like this. It's grown on me. I like the roasted tea we make from the
|
||||
late-season leaves the most. Sometimes I get lucky though, a hauler passing
|
||||
through will have a bit of coffee they're willing to part with. Keeps me from
|
||||
forgetting the taste. I do wish we had a hot garden, I could try my hand at
|
||||
parenting a coffee tree. Not that I've had much of a green thumb. I was a
|
||||
fueling operator before I came here, and before that a warehouse grunt. You
|
||||
know, a bit of a meathead.
|
||||
|
||||
(At this, they smirk and make a mocking 'flexing' motion.)
|
||||
|
||||
I'm not even sure why I put in the job-transfer request to come up here. I think
|
||||
I just got bored. Needed a change of scenery. Apparently that change was from a
|
||||
vibrant life-supporting world to a labrynth of steel-clad hallways and a minor
|
||||
existential risk of an explosion at any time. You know we're sitting on top of a
|
||||
massive core of frozen hydrogen? Luckily the planet's atmosphere doesn't have
|
||||
any oxygen to spark an explosion, but, once it's in the refinery it becomes a
|
||||
real risk. We had a small incident a few weeks ago when a piece of refining
|
||||
equipment failed and caused a spark. Luckily no one was nearby, but we lost a
|
||||
few hundred tonnes of hydrogen in the subsequent leak the blast caused. All in
|
||||
all pretty mundane compared to some of the other stories people around here will
|
||||
tell ya.
|
||||
|
||||
So, dock work, right? Not the most exciting stuff honestly, not entirely sure
|
||||
why you're so interested in chatting with me about it. Those guys in refining
|
||||
have way better stories. They're a solid mix of mad scientists and floor
|
||||
supervisors angry at the mad scientists. Fun folks to have a drink with.
|
||||
The sort of dock work I do is just moving stuff from storage to haulers, and
|
||||
organizing the warehouse stock when there's no ships around. I've got a pretty
|
||||
good safety record for myself, so it's been pretty dull as far as jobs go.
|
||||
|
||||
I have had a close call, though. Exactly one. See, on the smaller ships we can't
|
||||
use our lifts, since they're designed for large ships, and instead we just have
|
||||
to use muscle-suits. Real old-fashioned dockwork, picking stuff up and moving it
|
||||
from point A to point B, piece by piece. Those muscle-suits are helpful but that
|
||||
sort of work still puts a heck of a lot of strain on your muscles. Luckily we
|
||||
don't get a whole lot of small ships in here. So, we're loading up this
|
||||
short-jump hauler. It's only going to the next system over, so I guess the
|
||||
buyers didn't see fit to pay for a more well-equipped ship. I'm not sure when
|
||||
this thing was built, but it was missing most of the modern safety provisions
|
||||
you see on basically any other ship. I'm not even sure why the ground crew
|
||||
cleared them for loading. They must have been paying a big premium.
|
||||
|
||||
Anyways, I'm rambling. The incident. I was carrying a load of hydrogen canisters
|
||||
over to the ship, grumbling a bit in my head about how much I hate
|
||||
muscle-loading. Well, I must not have been paying great attention because I hit
|
||||
the edge of the box against the loading bay door. From what I can guess, that
|
||||
caused a cansiter head-gasket to fail and, well, gas under pressure likes to
|
||||
leak. Since this ship didn't have any sensors or failsafes in its cargo bay for
|
||||
flammables, the leak went unnoticed. We finished loading the ship, and waited
|
||||
for ground crew to send our customers off to their next destination. Something
|
||||
must have sparked inside. Because the next thing I see is a giant piece of the
|
||||
rear doors of the ship making a bee-line for my head. Either there's some kind
|
||||
of god watching out for me, or my reflexes were just working overtime, but in a
|
||||
fraction of a second I watched as this giant, angry piece of shrapnel sped
|
||||
uncomfortably close past my ear. I still remember the weird sort of wave of
|
||||
pressure I felt as it passed by. The ship was... well, at least the cockpit
|
||||
safety measures were working. The crew had to spend a good week and a half in
|
||||
the med quarters recuperating from their burns and explosive shock. I'm not sure
|
||||
what became of them after they were picked up by their "rescue-ship", but I have
|
||||
yet to see another ship land for loading that didn't have proper safety sensors.
|
||||
It's anyone's guess as to wether that's because ground crew won't let 'em land,
|
||||
or because the people sending them finally got some sense into their heads.
|
||||
|
||||
Y'know, I remember when I was in school I read about some explosives mishaps
|
||||
that happened way way back in the 1920s and 30s. I think I always figured that
|
||||
was just carelessness. It's not like those little stories went into detail about
|
||||
the sort of failures-of-the-system to actually take precaution with their cargo.
|
||||
Didn't even consider it was really a threat, now, y'know, given we've figured
|
||||
out how to travel hundreds of light years in a sort of ice-bath coma. Guess it's
|
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an easy thing to overlook.
|
||||
|
||||
(They look at their wrist, checking the time)
|
||||
|
||||
I'm sorry, I've gotta be on shift in a few minutes and I like to take my time
|
||||
getting ready. Enjoy the tea! If you're still around later in the year, you'll
|
||||
have to try some of that roast tea I was telling you about.
|
||||
|
||||
[ TRANSMISSION END ]
|
||||
</pre>]]></description>
|
||||
</item>
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||||
<item>
|
||||
<title>Gazellier - hello to the great abyss</title>
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||||
<author>totooria@cosmic.voyage (totooria)</author>
|
||||
|
|
Loading…
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