Moe Lane's Blog, page 805
November 28, 2020
Book of the Week: …I got nothing, sorry.
I’m putting this up, inviting people to give book recommendations for any good books on Amazon, putting up the music video, and going to bed. Hopefully I’ll be able to sleep, too.
Day 28, TINSEL RAIN NaNoWriMo: 57668/60000
I feel like junk (not the coronavirus: more like a gas attack of some kind), but I was able to get wordcount out. It may be all crap, though. I’ll know… later.
Patreon!“So, what can you tell me about Brigham?” More like what will you tell me about Brigham, I thought as I looked Chuck over. He had the look of a guy who’d try to squeeze every single red thalía out of the info he’d deign to pass along, and the gory details were never worth the asking price. Normally I don’t care so much, but one annoying ongoing thing about this Case was the lack of an expense account.
But it turned out Chuck was ready to flap his gums over Those Damn Mormons, Coming And Stealing Our Jobs: “That Brigham kid? He was a real pain in the ass. Real kiss-ass, too. They started him out, a couple hours a week; next thing I know, he’s got a full shift, just like that! I might’ve wanted those hours, hey. I got, you know, expenses.”
“They didn’t offer you any?” I pulled out the cigarettes I offer people who aren’t Shamuses and offered him a smoke. The gilipollas took three.
“We talked about it, but the boss, he didn’t wanna make it worth my while. Then this jerk shows up, takes their first offer, and then where am I? Not getting overtime, that’s where I am.” He shook his head. “There oughta be a law.”
“So, he was a rude kid, then? Pushy? No respect?” I hadn’t gotten that impression about Brigham, but I wanted to see what Chuck said.
He started to say something, grimaced, and said, “Nah, he was just a kid who didn’t know how to say no, you know what I mean? People leaned on him to get him to do their jobs. I would tell him what they were doing. Brigham, I’d say, you can’t just let them walk all over you. And he’d say, Thanks for the advice, Mister Charles, smile a little, and then just let people keep doing it. I would have figured he was simple, if he wasn’t, you know, that way.” Chuck wiggled his fingers a little. “Not that I ever saw him do anything like that. Even when his buddy showed up.”
Gypsy Shipping [The Day After Ragnarok]
Gypsy Shipping
Gypsy Shipping is a small company based out of California which does low-weight, high-value courier jobs between California, Texas, and Utah. The American successor states might talk a good game about tolls and borders and whatnot, but nobody has the manpower in the post-Serpentfall world to check all the traffic. Comes right down to it, nobody really wants to. Every Highway Patrolman or Ranger looking for contraband is a soldier that’s not killing mutated gila monsters or whatnot. So, if you don’t want anybody to know about a particular shipment, Gypsy Shipping will be happy to make sure it gets to where it needs to go without too much official interest. For a reasonable amount of money.
For a lot of money, Gypsy Shipping will go into the Poisoned Lands and bring somebody back. It’s usually somebody: there’s damned little in the Midwest or East Coast that’s worth sending somebody to fetch. But a lot of people got separated in the Evacuation of ‘46, and some of the people who made it to California are now rich enough to be able to afford sending somebody to collect their children, parents, or spouses.
To contract with Gypsy Shipping for this service, three things need to be understood:
Payment is in cash, and in advance. Including enough money to pay for the fuel to get there and back. And put up extra money anyway, because there’s going to be extra expenses and the courier is going to expect to be paid back for that.The client needs to provide good intelligence. Ideally, the package should be comfortably waiting at the destination, ready to go as soon as the courier hands over the ‘finders fee’ or ‘ransom’ or whatever else the local term is to the local warlord. …It’s never that easy, sure, but there has to be something that will let the courier track the package down. And if the situation is ‘he’s a slave in the local iron mines and the warlord’s a skull-and-spikes sort of person?’ Well, ‘hiring a band of mercenary raiders’ is going to be an expense. Fortunately, mercenary raiding bands go for pretty cheap in the Poisoned Lands.No guarantees. Rarely, a courier comes back empty-handed. They’re slightly more likely to not come back at all. This isn’t an easy job.
Darlene Dorgan (born 1910), CEO of Gypsy Shipping
Technically Darlene Bjorkman, but she uses her maiden name for the business. Darlene spent her prewar years driving all over the United States in a secondhand Model T Ford with a variety of companions, which proved to be remarkably good training for later events. Her first ‘run’ was to Bradford at the very height of the Evacuation (Dorgan was one of the few to drive east during the chaos), in order to rescue her parents and sisters. The success of that venture led to a few more high-paying jobs, and the success of those allowed Darlene to set up Gypsy Shipping as a courier company.
These days, Darlene and her first set of special couriers only rarely go on missions themselves, and only when the client is willing to pay ludicrous sums of money for the privilege. But there’s no shortage of people willing to risk their lives for the kind of money Gypsy Shipping can offer. Darlene is picky in who gets hired for special courier duty: she looks for a particular combination of skill, bravery, and stubbornness. They’re expected to know the geography of the Poisoned Lands at a level far beyond simply having an old gas station map; have the ability to repair or replace their vehicles as needed; and, naturally, be completely contemptuous of even the concept of giving up.
Orphans preferred.
November 27, 2020
Halfway through, and THE MANDALORIAN continues To Not Suck.
I was kind of worried that there would be bloat, but this last episode was excellent. While still being full of tons of references to all sorts of stuff from the video games and the animated shows and the Extended Universe and whatnot. I’m starting to wonder why the hell they just didn’t do all of this instead of all the movies except Rogue One (and, dammit, Solo). Alas, time travel is impossible and unethical.
Day 27, TINSEL RAIN NaNoWriMo: 55562/60000
Almost… there…
Patreon!“So, is this going to be dinner, or work?” Mira said as she looked at the menu.
“What’s the difference?”
“Dinner, I buy what I can afford. Work, I buy what you can expense.” Mira shook her head. “Really, Shamus, I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
I leaned back. “Let’s call it ‘work,’ then. It looks weird when somebody my age takes somebody yours age out to dinner.”
Mira shook her head. “Tell that to the rest of Cin City. And here I thought your job would require that you read the gossip rags!” she said, in a mock-disapproving tone.
“I do. It still looks weird.”
“Well, if you’re that old we’ll just have to make allowances. So, Tom – oh, can I call you Tom? Since this is work?”
“I think we can risk the familiarity,” I said gravely.
Tweet of the Day, NOOOOOOO NOT JEANS GUY! edition.
RIP JEANS GUY: The now infamous "Jeans Guy" blooper in Chapter 12 of #TheMandalorian has been digitally removed.
Christmas Shopping? Try FROZEN DREAMS and/or ANAGNORISIS!
FROZEN DREAMS is my first fantasy novel (post apocalyptic high urban fantasy pulp detective, because I WILL NOT BE CONSTRAINED), and ANAGNORISIS is my four story horror illustrated chapbook. Perfect for holiday purchases! Buy ten of each, and give them all to your loved ones!
And more books coming!
November 26, 2020
Day 26, TINSEL RAIN NaNoWriMo: 53511/60000.
Got more work done than I expected. Which is nice. Dinner went well, too.
Patreon!“So this is the famous Tom Vargas,” Howie Rowan said as the party hubbubbed around us. In contrast with everybody else, his formal wear looked Badlands-derived: polished boots, black denim pants and jacket, cotton shirt, and a black Stetson. Oh, and a bolo tie. He was tall and slim enough to pull the thing off,too. “So pleased you could join us.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I even brought my nose along. No thanks to that jackass you sent to collect it. How are his ribs, anyway?”
“Wouldn’t know, tell truthful,” Rowan replied. He shrugged. “He ain’t with my outfit no more.”
“He have time to pass on my message?”
“And what message would that be, Mr. Vargas?”
“That the rules are different, here.”
That got a laugh. An actual, genuine laugh. “No, they’re not. They’re the same rules as everywhere else. You can do whatever you can get away with, and when you’re on top? You can get away with a lot. I just didn’t figure you’d be too hard to just squash. My sincere apologies for the insult.”
“Well, that’s refreshing,” I said as I pulled out a cigarette. “Unless you mind?” A lot of foreigners still got this taboo about tobacco. I don’t know why: the stuff’s been safe for centuries.
“Feel free,” Rowan said. “Do I look like a Mormon?”
I looked him up and down. “Not particularly.” I didn’t offer him a smoke, but unfortunately he probably knew enough about Shamuses by now to realize me not offering him one wasn’t an insult.
