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275 lines
7.3 KiB
Text
275 lines
7.3 KiB
Text
.LP
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.ce
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.ps 16
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.CW
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A LARGE ROOM WITH NO LIGHT
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.R
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.ps 8
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.CW
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tags: 1993, albert_lunsford, calbert_whimsy, piro, plinth_mold, tab1
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.R
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.fp 1 R H
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.fp 2 I HI
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.fp 3 B HB
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.fp 4 BI HM
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.QP
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.I
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Hello, I'm Calbert Whimsy, Master Of Ethics at POLICY SCHOOL: WHISKEY
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TANGO FOXTROT\f(CW™\fR. For twenty\-five consecutive generations, the men of my
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family have stood watch over your children and their education.
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Granted, twenty of those generations were vat\-grown, simultaneously,
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over the last decade. And yes, we correspond. Ah ha ha ha. I've made a
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little joke. It is a pleasure to see you here, you all say. Likewise,
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I'm sure.
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.R
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.LP
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.fp 1 R GA
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.fp 2 I GI
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.fp 3 B GM
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.fp 4 BI GMI
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.PP
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.ps 10
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As you may have guessed, I'm not really Calbert Whimsy. Somehow,
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though, they've fitted me in here, floating paralyzed amongst these
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sharks. The Families. Their publicists, attorneys, clergy. And now
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I've got to give this speech to the
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.I
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Green Consortium
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.R
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assembled. I've
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had better days.
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.fp 2 I HI
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.fp 3 B HB
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.fp 4 BI HM
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.QP
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.I
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Thirty years ago I entered this profession, not knowing what to
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expect.
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.R
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.LP
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.fp 1 R GA
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.fp 2 I GI
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.fp 4 BI GMI
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.PP
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.ps 10
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THE STRAND\f(CW™\fR is a luxury liner, Old British flag and technically
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off\-limits to agents such as myself. This class of people are not
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supposed to be subjected to operational trifles such as political
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assassinations and internetwork intrigue. Let's just say I'm off the
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clock. The Lunsford affair was a wake\-up call nobody wanted to hear.
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The collective, meaty fist of the Green aristocracy simply mashed
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their alarm clock and rolled over on their 800 thread count sheets.
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Hopefully, right into the wet spot.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Overheard from my place behind the podium:
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.fp 4 BI HM
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.QP
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.I
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I'm warning you,
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.R
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don't
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.I
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try to kiss my ass. I mean that. Don't do it.
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I'm
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.R
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serious,
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.I
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now. Don't. I
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.R
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hate
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.I
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it when people try to kiss my ass.
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Oh, yes, you may kiss
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.R
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his
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.I
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ass as often as you please!
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.R
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.LP
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.fp 1 R GA
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.fp 2 I GI
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.fp 3 B GM
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.fp 4 BI GMI
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.PP
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.ps 10
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And:
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.fp 2 I HI
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.fp 3 B HB
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.fp 4 BI HM
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.QP
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.I
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He said it was life or death. He was pounding against the police
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vehicle, just going to town. My man at the dispatch center reported
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the machine wouldn't authorize his identoplate. So, no entry to the
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back seat. I told him, it must have been a clerical error. Nothing to
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be done, you see. I got the impression his partner was irritated, but
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he didn't say anything as he drove me away from the rioting crowd of
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students. I never found out what became of the officer we left behind.
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.R
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.LP
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.fp 1 R GA
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.fp 4 BI GMI
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Raucous laughter, all around. These people are far from funny, but
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they don't even know it.
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.fp 1 R H
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.fp 2 I HI
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.fp 3 B HB
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.fp 4 BI HM
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.QP
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.I
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From time to time, an exceptionally gregarious, obviously very
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special student will arrive in our class, and vex us all with their
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easy brilliance. I know what you're thinking. Each and every one of
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you is smiling now, convinced that I'm talking about your child. Well,
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I'm not. Ha ha. Let us stipulate that I'm not referring to your
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particular little brat.
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.R
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.LP
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.fp 1 R GA
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.fp 2 I GI
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.fp 4 BI GMI
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.PP
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.ps 10
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You might say that this is a bit of a roast. I'm not entirely
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comfortable, exposing myself like this on stage.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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But the weak humor is contagious. Someone in the audience gets
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clever and plays back the sound of crickets chirping. I squint at the
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crowd and realize that it's my support man, apparently trying to blow
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his cover. I want to yank on his bolo\-tie and force\-feed him a handful
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of the ship's platinum salad forks. Connecting us directly in this
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context is a mistake. But in spite of his gaffe, you simply can't
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launch a wetwork operation from aboard THE STRAND\f(CW™\fR without a hype\-man.
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Since the script is a shambles, we'll be ad\-libbing from here on in.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Mercifully, I complete my monologue without further interruption
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and I'm cleared to leave the stage. I'm not entirely sure what all
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I've just said, but the audience seems to more or less approve. My
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counterpart will have to sort it out later. I warned him I was no good
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in front of an audience.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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I check THE STRAND\f(CW™\fR's operating radius for other ships. This
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particular sector of the South Atlantic is out of bounds to commercial
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traffic. In fact, at this time of year, THE STRAND\f(CW™\fR is the only ship
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permitted to ply its waters at all. But that doesn't mean we're alone
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out here.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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I've got to keep an eye out for Piro.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Before I know it I've been scooped back up on stage. This time the
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lights are dimmed and I can make out the players from the various
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fandoms that were listed in the mission brief. I throw in some
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targeted references to key episodes of the relevant series. It goes
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over very well.
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.fp 1 R H
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.fp 2 I HI
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.fp 3 B HB
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.fp 4 BI HM
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.QP
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.I
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We've heard from a lot of educators tonight! But no one has even
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mentioned the litigators! Let's hear it for general counsel!
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.R
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.LP
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.fp 1 R GA
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.fp 2 I GI
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.fp 3 B GM
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.fp 4 BI GMI
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.PP
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.ps 10
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This brings on a spate of vigorous cheering and I am once again
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whisked offstage.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Four thespians in black tights approach the boards, each with
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brightly colored puppets sewn onto the fronts of their shirts. The
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effect, in combination with the carefully controlled lighting, is one
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of disembodied cartoon animals who glide back and forth across the
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stage, seemingly disconnected from the floor. The performance itself
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is protected by copyright. I refer to these creatures as thespians,
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but in reality they are
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.I Consortium
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members, plucked at random from
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the crowd. An annual tradition with this group, the script, such as
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it exists, is familiar, and the audience members
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.I cum
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dancers have
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little trouble falling into the routine. Their friends and family are
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by this time well and truly soused, voicing their approval at
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considerable volume. Monitors throughout the ship pipe the performance
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into the corridors, and even into the head. Men are pissing
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themselves listening to it.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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I catch myself drumming on the table and immediately shove my hand
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back into the pocket of my tuxedo jacket.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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I'm here for a reason.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Not to participate in the show.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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On schedule, I spasm wildly and vomit across the lap of my
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companion. Over her protestations (etiquette, you see) I am pulled
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away from the table and assisted to my cabin. Once alone, I remove my
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outer garments and verify that my stresspants boot up at optimum
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capacity. Impulsively, I clip the bow\-tie from my stage costume onto
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my wetsuit, directly under my chin. I regard myself in the mirror and
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then squeeze myself out, through the porthole, exiting the cabin
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forever.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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The ocean is slick with rain, a flickering black mirror of
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half\-reflected moonlight. My visor activates as I dip below the
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surface, attempting to compensate for the darkness. Short\-range sonar
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detects no walls, floors or obstructions anywhere nearby. I'm
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momentarily blinded in a large room with no light.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Gradually, my testicles shrink up, triggering my stresspants to
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activate.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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At length, mission intel streams to life, glittering into my field
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of vision across the back of an enormous gray whale.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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Plinth Mold.
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.PP
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.ps 10
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It is time.
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