80 lines
4.7 KiB
Plaintext
80 lines
4.7 KiB
Plaintext
<-- begin transmission -->
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+++
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date = 4531-09-08-04-37
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from = stid1003@malu@244.21
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to = central@rs001@4.0
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importance = low
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note = as related by unknown malic sage - translation may contain errors
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+++
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This is the hard life, Provich thought as he walked through his ancient forest.
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The real thing. We are out here in the wilderness with the lyncoor cats and the
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trees, five million acres of pristine woodland protected by the Provich estate.
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He owned it, down to the last square inch. His name was in the books, he had
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purchased it for two krabas an acre from the Interplanetary Frontier Development
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Control Institute. It was government of the new land, for the billionaires, by
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the billionaires. Provich’s net worth was just short of a thousand million, but
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he had nestled his way into the billionaire club nonetheless. The land was
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supposedly untouched by human hands, but Provich’s agents had found evidence
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that the Malic peoples had inhabited its mountainous terrain in the Precorruo
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Age, and he felt confident his agents were right.
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Provich had bought the land without ever seeing it, and as soon as he could get
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away from his advisers’ barrage of emails regarding his numerous lawsuits, his
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latest stock investments, and his mental health exams, he got together a small
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group of himself and three other people - a hired Neomalic guide called Puma
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and two nature nerds, Sean and Janet - to accompany him into the wilds as the
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first modern humans to set foot on that land.
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Provich met with his group six months before the trip in his “office,” a one
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thousand square foot room with broad windows overlooking the city, expensive
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paintings covering the walls, and a broad circle of easy chairs encircling a
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hologram projector. When Sean and Janet arrived with their nose piercings and
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their expensive fur clothes, Provich introduced Puma (who he had met for the
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first time minutes before) as an very admirable person, someone Provich
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respected “really very deeply,” and proceeded to summarize the Neomalic’s life
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for the newcomers in a proud way, as if it were his own.
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They had set out almost a week ago. A helicopter had flown them into an IFDCI
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camp, they had been pointed in the direction of the “Provich Purchase,” as the
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beady-eyed IFDCI official called it, and they had left. Now, Provich felt, they
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were out in the wilderness alone, without the comfort and safety of modern
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society. Of course they had radio and GPS for emergencies, but he didn't like
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to think of that. He liked to pretend they were all alone, removed from
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humanity, surviving against the odds.
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Provich wanted to find gold and silver. He knew museums would pay top dollar for
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Malic artifacts, and he hoped to use the money to pay off some debt from the
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lunar project. Provich laughed out loud. He hoped this wouldn't turn out like
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the lunar project did. But he hadn’t been on the moon in person. Now, he felt he
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could stop things if they started going wrong.
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≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁≁
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On their sixth day of traveling, they reached the remains of an old road. To
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Provich, it was hardly distinguishable from the forest around it; but there were
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banks on either side, and above the banks, in two perfect rows, were lines of
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stately sugar maples, centuries old. He didn’t notice the road at first, and
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wouldn’t have seen it if Puma had not pointed out the banks. Then, after some
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puzzled staring, everything snapped into place in one moment, and Provich could
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see the lines of maples. He thought of it as his mind canceling out all the
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trees that grew in the road, and imagining the land as it had been in the
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Precorruo Age. Once he saw the road, he could follow it easily.
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The way was not straight. It wound through the hilly landscape like a tangled
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ball of yarn, avoiding steep uphill slopes while trying to reach the mountains
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all the time. Every now and then the wall of maples would break on one side, and
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they would find an old stone foundation and sometimes a dry well, but, to
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Provich’s disappointment, nothing of value. Sean and Janet, however, didn't seem
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to care. They excitedly took photographs of everything they came across, tapping
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away at their cameras. “As if these piles of rock matter,” grumbled Provich to
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himself. “I haven't seen a single valuable thing since we left the IFDCI camp.”
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But he stayed on the road, hoping it would eventually bring them to something
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worth his time. Half the time he marveled at the noise of the birds and the
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greens, blues, and browns that he now owned, half the time he excitedly
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anticipated the money he would receive upon returning with Malic gold.
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<-- end transmission -->
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