Perplex City Wiki - User contributions [en]

User:Hituro

2005-12-20T14:02:54Z

Hituro:

== Hituro ==

My name is Hituro (or in the real world David Donachie). I am a Perplexcity player from Edinburgh, Scotland. I am quite new to the game, and ARGs in general, but I am certainly enjoying myself! I've contributed a couple of stories for Tales from Earth, solved most cards I can get my hands on, and generally made a nuisance of myself.

In the real world I am a web designer and gamer, happily married, living in a house full of pets, and running an online game of my own (http://www.grophland.com) as well.

Talk:Leaked E-mails

2005-12-20T14:00:04Z

Hituro:

I've just updated this page with the two mails I received today (20th december 2005). Neither of these mails were actually associated with solving any set of cards, I haven't solved a card in more than a week, and both mails show a wildly different number of solved cards despite coming on the same day. One was a repeat in a new format, one was new.

[[User:Hituro|Hituro]]

Leaked E-mails

2005-12-20T13:56:59Z

Hituro: /* 27 April 2005 8.54am */

On Wendesday 16th November 2005, Perplex City players who had completed the set of four blue hex cards were sent an e-mail congratulating them from the Academy.

However, it seems that the Academy's e-mail system managed to ''leak'' some internal e-mails at the bottom of these e-mails sent out to players. Each player so far has received a different e-mail fragment. They are arranged below in date order.

The top portion of the e-mail reads:

<div style="background-color: #d6d6d6; border: thin grey solid; padding: 10px;">"Dear [player name],

Congratulations, you've solved a set of four Perplex City cards. We've rewarded you by [[Leaderboard|doubling your points]] for each of the cards in the set.

Your Perplex Point total is now ''[total]''. You have solved ''[x]'' cards.

We in Perplex City would like to thank you for your continued dedication to our cause. With your help, we are certain that the Receda Cube will be found and returned safely.

Sincerely, 
The Puzzle Scribe Team 
Perplex City Academy"</div>

Then follows an error code:

<div style="background-color: #d6d6d6; border: thin grey solid; padding: 10px;">
"f8080:xx95034 
internal error academail 
criticalerror 420 
error-authconflict 
error-redirect 
error-handover 
error-output 
fatal-close"</div>

From 20th December 2005 it appears as if some of these emails have been sent again, although at this time they don't appear to be related to the actual solving of a set (i.e. although the email refers to solving a set, no card was solved at the time the email was sent). The resent email has an additional header at the start of the mail as follows.

<div style="background-color: #d6d6d6; border: thin grey solid; padding: 10px;">
Failure in Centre for Reality Research Sandbox Mail Transport Daemon (daemon 
subprocess 3ea5). Mind Candy unavailable. Final resend attempt follows. 
----------------------------------------------------------------------------</div>

'''The E-mails'''

Please post your leaked e-mail here, in chronological order. Feel free to add relative links to topics as you see fit.

==Senior Fellows Meet with Sente==
--------------

===10 Oct. 2003 3.18pm===

From: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.18pm

Lord, that was a difficult meeting.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.19pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.19pm

Ah, yes. Our dear [[Inari Ekeba|Professor Ekeba]] can become a little... agitated.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.21pm===

From: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.21pm

I can't say that Prof Kiteway was being particularly reasonable.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.21pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.21pm

There's a history there, you know. They've been arguing about that issue for years.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.22pm===

From: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.22pm

So why won't he just allow her to do her Cube research then? It seems a perfectly sensible request - she's head of Natural Sciences, one would have thought it was her field of expertise.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.24pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.24pm

Ah. Wheels within wheels.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.25pm===

From: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.25pm

What do you mean?

===10 Oct. 2003 3.27pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.27pm

Just that he has his own research interests and perhaps doesn't want anyone else
to encroach on them.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.28pm===

From: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.28pm

Oh. Right. Heh. Not too sinister then... I thought she might have had some actual reason for that threat to steal the thing.

==Super Sneaky!==
--------------

===22 Dec. 2003 5.48pm===

From: name withheld 
To: name withheld 
Subject: 
Date: 22 Dec. 2003 5.48pm

As you well know, there are those who are attached to our cause who are more
senior than you. They know where their true allegiance lies. Make your excuses
and leave the meeting.

V.

==Sneaky!==
--------------

===8 Jan. 2004 2.28am===

From: name withheld 
To: name withheld 
Subject: 
Date: 8 Jan. 2004 2.28am

It's not my fault. I simply mistook the contact. The contact gave the
appropriate response to the feeder line and correctly completed the
third element. I barely gave anything away before realising the error. She
didn't appear suspicious. Contact correctly identified within two
hours. I don't think this need go further up the line. Please do not refer
to [[V]].

===8 Jan. 2004 2.31am===

From: name withheld 
To: name withheld 
Subject: 
Date: 8 Jan. 2004 2.31am

I don't think you appreciate the gravity of the situation. With only a week to
go, the entire project could have been compromised. I will need to consider this
further.

==Sick Kiteway on Ball-Night==
--------------

===15 Jan. 2004 3.28pm===

From: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Re: Party arrangements 
Date: 15 Jan. 2004 3.28pm

Hiya - sorry, you know I said I was coming down with something? Well, it's
turned into definite flu: headache, achey joints etc. I don't think I can make
it tonight. Scarlett's coming, though, isn't she? I'm sure it'll be a great
success as usual.

V.

===15 Jan. 2004 3.51pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
Subject: Re: Re: Party arrangements
Date: 15 Jan. 2004 3.51pm

Do you want me to send someone over to take a look at you?

S.

===15 Jan. 2004 3.55pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Party arrangements 
Date: 15 Jan. 2004 3.55pm

No no. I'll be fine. Already got a diagnosis from the home system. It's just
flu. A night in bed and I'll be fine tmrw. Bad timing I know.

V.

==Lettie wants a favour==
--------------

===3 April 2005 12.17pm===

From: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Favour.... 
Date: 3 April 2005 12.17pm

[[Sente Kiteway|Dad]].... would you let [[Violet Kiteway|Violet]] know that I borrowed [[Violet Kiteway's Embroidered Bag|her embroidered bag]] and, well, kind of spilled juice on it.... I promise I'll get her a new one, honest, but I know she'll be cross and it'd be so better coming from you... Pleeease?

xxx
[[Scarlett Kiteway|Lettie]]

===3 April 2005 1.56pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
Subject: Favour.... 
Date: 3 April 2005 1.56pm

Dear [[Scarlett Kiteway|Lettie]],

Yes, I've told [[Violet Kiteway|Violet]]. You're right, she was cross. Don't worry about getting her a new one - I've told her to treat herself to a new bag and I'll pay for it. Just don't do it again!

Love,
[[Sente Kiteway|Dad]]

===3 April 2005 3.35pm===

From: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Favour.... 
Date: 3 April 2005 3.35pm

<nowiki>:-D</nowiki>. Thanks [[Sente Kiteway|Dad]] you're the best!

xxx
[[Scarlett Kiteway|Lettie]],

==Unknown to Unknown==
--------------

===27 April 2005 8.54am===

From: name withheld 
To: name withheld 
Subject: 
Date: 27 Apr. 2005 8.54am 

And Q? Do we wish to take any other retributive measures? As a message to anyone else who might be tempted to try to steal from us? 

V.

==Uncle calls Nieces==
--------------

===10 June 2005 2.27pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Violet Kiteway]], [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 2.27pm

Your Aunty [[Annaliese Adamek]] and I feel it's far too long since we last saw you. Would you girls be free for tea tomorrow afternoon? Say 4pm?

Love, 
Uncle Sanj

===10 June 2005 2.32pm===

From: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 2.32pm

Ooooh... lovely! Don't suppose Aunty [[Annliese Adamek|Annaliese]] is going to make her *coffee cake* is she....?

===10 June 2005 2.33pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 2.33pm

Could be ;)

===10 June 2005 8.27pm===

From: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 8.27pm

Sorry Uncle Sanj, I can't this weekend, I've got a big project I'm working on. Maybe another time?

===10 June 2005 8.48pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 8.48pm

Oh dear, that is disappointing. You can't even take an hour off to come and tell us about this big exciting project?

===10 June 2005 8.54pm===

From: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 8.54pm

Not this weekend, sorry. Maybe next weekend?

==Sente Calls Anna, Urgently==
--------------

===14 June 2005 4.01pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.01pm

[[Anna Heath|Anna]] -

Can you come and see me immediately? There's an extremely urgent matter
I need to discuss with you.

S.

===14 June 2005 4.03pm===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.03pm

I'm just going into a meeting of the CRT. Can it wait half an hour?

===14 June 2005 4.04pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.04pm

I'm afraid not. Cancel your meeting.

===14 June 2005 4.38pm===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.38pm

[[Aiko Entrescore|Aiko's]] personnel file is attached. As you can see we've always been aware that
she was strongly religious. I do not see that this has the slightest implication
for her work.

===14 June 2005 4.39pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.39pm

I disagree. This information is certainly evidence in the theft of the Cube. I'm turning it over to the proper authorities now.

===14 June 2005 4.46pm===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.46pm

Honestly, I can't believe [[Aiko Entrescore|Aiko]] had anything to do with that! I'm surprised you're being taken in by what is obviously a piece of spiteful misinformation. And even if it is true, surely it would be logical for [[Aiko Entrescore|Aiko]] to be particularly motivated to bring the [[Receda Cube|Cube]] home, rather than wanting to transport it to another world? This simply doesn't make sense.

===14 June 2005 4.48pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.48pm

[[Anna Heath|Anna]] -

I respect your abilities as a team leader, but this is out of our hands now. The
matter is closed.

[[Sente Kiteway|S]].

===14 June 2005 4.54pm===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Roberto Solitano]] 
Subject: Confidential 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.54pm

Can I come and see you urgently this afternoon, please? I have a problem and really need to talk it through.

==Kurt is NOT dating Violet!==
--------------

===7 Sept. 2005 3.21pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.21pm

Hey - [[Anna Heath|Anna]] said you weren't doing anything tonight. Want to come out with me and [[Violet Kiteway|Violet]] and a couple of her friends? There's a classic movie programme at [[Ascendancy Point]] with lectures beforehand, then we'll probably grab some dinner.

===7 Sept. 2005 3.23pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.23pm

Great! Don't suppose any of [[Violet Kiteway|Violet's]] friends coming tonight are girls, are they? :-D

===7 Sept. 2005 3.26pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.26pm

Don't know. I'm sure she can rustle someone up for you though. She knows everyone.

===7 Sept. 2005 3.27pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.27pm

<nowiki>:-D</nowiki>. I'll make sure I wear a clean shirt. Hey - how long have you and Violet been together?

===7 Sept. 2005 3.38pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.38pm

Ummm. We're not really *together*, you know.

===7 Sept. 2005 3.45pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.45pm

Really? ***Blush*** I just thought... since you guys seem to hang out together
so much... and you don't have another girlfriend... I just assumed.... Sorry.

===7 Sept. 2005 3.46pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.46pm

Grrr. Does no one remember that girl in the anthro team I went out with for *six weeks* in the spring?!

===7 Sept. 2005 3.48pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.48pm

Sorry... :-(

===7 Sept. 2005 3.50pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.50pm

Hey, it's OK. Everyone seems to think so.

==Camaraderie==
--------------

===9 Sept. 2005 9.38am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.38am

How are you feeling this morning?

===9 Sept. 2005 9.40am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.40am 

Wishing my key didn't make so much noise?

===9 Sept. 2005 9.41am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.41am

I thought you had the Rambler X50? Absolutely silent running?

===9 Sept. 2005 9.42am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.42am

Still. Too. Loud.

===9 Sept. 2005 9.43am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.43am

Ah. Yes. I see. Still, it was a good night.

===9 Sept. 2005 9.44am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.44am

Yeah, thanks for coming! Shame no one else from the team made it - we were on fire last night!

===9 Sept. 2005 9.45am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.45am

Literally, at one point, as I recall.

===9 Sept. 2005 9.46am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.46am

Oh yeah, cheers for chucking your lemonade over that. :-)

''This item was supposedly posted at 9.36, however I believe this is incorrecct. It seems to make good sense here at 9.46 [[User:Scott|Scott]]''

===9 Sept. 2005 9.47am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.47am

No problem. This kind of emergency is just what they train us for in the Defence Forces. That and escorting the drunk-and-disorderly home.

===9 Sept. 2005 9.48am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.48am

Yeah, cheers for that too! Don't remember a huge amount after that third Mazy Slammer....

===9 Sept. 2005 9.50am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.50am

Oh don't worry, you were perfectly civil if a bit emphatic on the subject of the things you insisted I didn't tell anyone else ever ever ever.

===9 Sept. 2005 10.12am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.12am

What -things- exactly?

===9 Sept. 2005 10.13am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.13am

Ah, that would be telling.

===9 Sept. 2005 10.14am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.14am

No, seriously, what -things-?

===9 Sept. 2005 10.15am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.15am

Remember, I've been trained to withstand torture. You have no need to fear. Your secret is safe with me, Tristan....

===9 Sept. 2005 10.16am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.16am

I'm going to be buying you drinks from now until forever, aren't I?

===9 Sept. 2005 10.17am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.17am

Oh yes.

==Scarlett reports from Tanraga==
--------------

===21 Sept. 2005 9.34pm===

From: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]], [[Violet Kiteway]] 
Subject: Pix! 
Date: 21 Sept. 2005 9.34pm

Hey guys

Just to let you know I'm having a great time! Soooo beautiful here, as you can see from attached pic - it's tiring though... see the tall pine in the distance? That's where we had to get to by nightfall!

Love,
[[Scarlett Kiteway|Scarlett]]

==Caine's Mischief in the Founder's Gallery==
--------------

===23 Sept. 2005 8.38am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 8.38am

Have you been through Founder's Gallery this morning

===23 Sept. 2005 8.40am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 8.40am

I'm not telling you. You have to see it for yourself. Seriously. Go now
before they wash it off.

===23 Sept. 2005 9.12am===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.12am

That's brilliant! Who did it?

===23 Sept. 2005 9.15am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.15am

If I tell you, are you sure you can keep it to yourself?

===23 Sept. 2005 9.16am===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.16am

Of course. Cross my heart and hope to die.

===23 Sept. 2005 9.17am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.17am 

Is that one of your weird Earthisms?

===23 Sept. 2005 9.18am===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.18am

Yeah. It means - honestly, I completely promise, I won't tell anyone.

===23 Sept. 2005 9.20am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.20am

OK. It was [[Caine Johansson|Caine]].

===23 Sept. 2005 9.21am===

From: [[Von Lubick]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.21am

No!!!!!!! How do you know???????

===23 Sept. 2005 9.22am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.22am

Take a look at his hands, boy wonder ;-).

===23 Sept. 2005 9.40am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: I would say 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.40am

That today would be a good day to go back home and call in sick a bit later.
Fortunately for you, only Von and I are in the office so far to see your
telltale fingernails. My advice is, cut them as short as you can and use
McWhirter's Reliable Remover. Old fashioned but it works. It was a nice piece of performance theatre, though.

==Wrapped around her pinky==
--------------

===23 Sept. 2005 11.22am===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Coffee 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 11.22am

Hey - can you be a sweetie and just go out and get me a latte? With a muffin?
Blueberry if possible? And please remember to bring napkins because last time
you forgot.

===23 Sept. 2005 12.34am===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: [[Von Lubik|Von]] 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 12.34pm

Kurt... asking this because I know Von looks up to you. Do you think you could find some way to let him know that getting coffee for Tippy isn't part of his job description? He doesn't need to be rude, just tell her that he has work to be getting on with. I'll have a word with her privately.

===23 Sept. 2005 1.53pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: [[Tippy Ankron|Tippy]] 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 1.53pm 

Don't mean to interfere but you know that you don't have to get coffee for Tippy, right? She's perfectly capable of doing it herself.

===23 Sept. 2005 1.57pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: Coffee 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 1.57pm

<nowiki>:-D</nowiki>. I know, but I guess I'm the office junior so it's kind of my job, right? I mean, she wouldn't ask me if it wasn't, would she? :-).

==Laundry List==
--------------

===29 Sept. 2005 7.15am===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Patrick Azadian]] 
Subject: 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 7.15am

P -

1. Pls check with CRR et al for status report. 
2. Do we have the agenda for the 3pm [[PCAG]] meeting? 
3. Pls chase [[Estelle Sedgewick|Sedgewick]] for her budget proposals. Again.

S.

===29 Sept. 2005 7.22am===

From: [[Patrick Azadian]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 7.22am

Agenda is attached. CRR promise to revert shortly. Have chased Sedgewick but don't expect a great deal of joy. Shall I arrange a meeting with [[Roberto Solitano|Solitano]]?

===29 Sept. 2005 7.29am===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Patrick Azadian]] 
Subject: 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 7.29am

That wd be helpful. Thank you. Today if possible. I may need you this evening as well - CS is looking for a financial report asap.

===29 Sept. 2005 7.32am===

From: [[Patrick Azadian]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Apologies 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 7.32am

Might have to cancel raquetball tonight - S is trying to churn through some financial stuff today. Can we reschedule?

==Confidential Conscription==
--------------

===29 Sept. 2005 7.38am===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Lyssa Ling]] 
Subject: Briefing this afternoon 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 7.38am

Lyssa -

Could you make time this afternoon for a meeting of the special project
team? We would appreciate your expertise in some areas that are
concerning us. I'm sure I need not remind you that the existence of this
meeting is to be kept strictly confidential. If necessary, I can tell [[Henrik Tanner|Henrik]]
I need you to assist the puzzle scribes. 5pm?

S.

===29 Sept. 2005 9.54am===

From: [[Lyssa Ling]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Briefing this afternoon 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 9.54am

Sure. It's no problem re: [[Henrik Tanner|Henrik]].

==Stapler Wars==
--------------

===3 Oct. 2005 1.59pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]], [[Garnet Reed]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Caine Johansson]], [[Von Lubik]], [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 1.59pm

For the last time, PLEASE will you ALL stop taking my stapler!

===3 Oct. 2005 2.04pm===

From: [[Caine Johansson]], 
To: [[Anna Heath]], [[Garnet Reed]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Tippy Ankron]], [[Von Lubik]], [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.04pm

Nobody's taken your stapler, [[Tippy Ankron|Tipper]]. We've all got our own.

===3 Oct. 2005 2.05pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]], [[Garnet Reed]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Caine Johansson]], [[Tippy Ankron]], [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.05pm

Maybe it was the janitor?

===3 Oct. 2005 2.06pm===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.06pm

Shhh! Don't give her ideas! She'll only start blaming him instead of us.

===3 Oct. 2005 2.07pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.07pm 

But maybe it really was him? Maybe he put it somewhere out of the way...?

===3 Oct. 2005 2.08pm===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.08pm

It wasn't him.

===3 Oct. 2005 2.09pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.09pm

How do you know?

===3 Oct. 2005 2.10pm===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.10pm

I just know, OK?

===3 Oct. 2005 2.15pm===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.15pm

Put it back. She'll only end up blaming Von again, and you know how he can't say
no to her.

==Tippy Advances, Aiko Recrudesces==
--------------

===7 Oct. 2005 3.23pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Tonite 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 3.23pm

Hey - Don't suppose you'd fancy getting together after work tonight? Am sooo
exhausted, was thinking just a quiet dinner at [[Melinda]]'s? Just the two of us - I
promise no discussion of work!

Tips

===7 Oct. 2005 3.29pm===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 3.29pm

Sorry, I have plans tonight.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.02pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Anna Heath]], [[Aiko Entrescore]], [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.02pm

Hey guys - How do you lot fancy a wild night tonight? Dinner at [[Conundra]]? Dancing at [[Didakoi]]? Out till morning? Let's party!

Tips.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.06pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Anna Heath]], [[Aiko Entrescore]], [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.06pm

Hey, did you leave Garnet off the list? Shouldn't we ask him too?

===7 Oct. 2005 4.08pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Anna Heath]], [[Aiko Entrescore]], [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.08pm

No, I think [[Garnet Reed|Mr Chest-full-of-medals]] has more important things to be doing than hanging out with us.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.09pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Anna Heath]], [[Aiko Entrescore]], [[Caine Johanssen]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.09pm

<nowiki>:-D</nowiki> What did Garnet ever do to you?

===7 Oct. 2005 4.11pm===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.11pm

[[Tippy Ankron|Tippy]]. I would appreciate it if you did not refer to [[Garnet Reed|Garnet]] in such a disrespectful way. He has been a member of the defence forces of this city for many years, has assisted in the capture of numerous criminals and has been awarded every one of those "chest full of medals" for distinguished service. When you've done anything so worthwhile, you'll have earned the right to criticise.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.13pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.13pm

Hey! Who tipped your wheel Aiko? Garnet can be a bit stuck-up is all I was trying to say.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.15pm===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.15pm

Well, don't say it to me.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.17pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.17pm

What did he ever do for you? You got the hots for him or something?

===7 Oct. 2005 4.24pm===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.24pm

OK. If you want to know what he did for me, this is it: when I was arrested (remember that? remember how you *didn't* come to see me, send me a message....?) [[Garnet Reed|Garnet]] stayed with me in the police station. He came to see me and talk to me. He helped me find good defence lawyers. And when I was released, he switched apartments with me, so that I didn't have to deal with all that media for a while. OK? That's what he did for me. Come back when you've done as much. Oh, and I won't be coming to dinner this evening.

Leaked E-mails

2005-12-20T13:53:32Z

Hituro:

On Wendesday 16th November 2005, Perplex City players who had completed the set of four blue hex cards were sent an e-mail congratulating them from the Academy.

However, it seems that the Academy's e-mail system managed to ''leak'' some internal e-mails at the bottom of these e-mails sent out to players. Each player so far has received a different e-mail fragment. They are arranged below in date order.

The top portion of the e-mail reads:

<div style="background-color: #d6d6d6; border: thin grey solid; padding: 10px;">"Dear [player name],

Congratulations, you've solved a set of four Perplex City cards. We've rewarded you by [[Leaderboard|doubling your points]] for each of the cards in the set.

Your Perplex Point total is now ''[total]''. You have solved ''[x]'' cards.

We in Perplex City would like to thank you for your continued dedication to our cause. With your help, we are certain that the Receda Cube will be found and returned safely.

Sincerely, 
The Puzzle Scribe Team 
Perplex City Academy"</div>

Then follows an error code:

<div style="background-color: #d6d6d6; border: thin grey solid; padding: 10px;">
"f8080:xx95034 
internal error academail 
criticalerror 420 
error-authconflict 
error-redirect 
error-handover 
error-output 
fatal-close"</div>

From 20th December 2005 it appears as if some of these emails have been sent again, although at this time they don't appear to be related to the actual solving of a set (i.e. although the email refers to solving a set, no card was solved at the time the email was sent). The resent email has an additional header at the start of the mail as follows.

<div style="background-color: #d6d6d6; border: thin grey solid; padding: 10px;">
Failure in Centre for Reality Research Sandbox Mail Transport Daemon (daemon 
subprocess 3ea5). Mind Candy unavailable. Final resend attempt follows. 
----------------------------------------------------------------------------</div>

'''The E-mails'''

Please post your leaked e-mail here, in chronological order. Feel free to add relative links to topics as you see fit.

==Senior Fellows Meet with Sente==
--------------

===10 Oct. 2003 3.18pm===

From: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.18pm

Lord, that was a difficult meeting.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.19pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.19pm

Ah, yes. Our dear [[Inari Ekeba|Professor Ekeba]] can become a little... agitated.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.21pm===

From: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.21pm

I can't say that Prof Kiteway was being particularly reasonable.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.21pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.21pm

There's a history there, you know. They've been arguing about that issue for years.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.22pm===

From: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.22pm

So why won't he just allow her to do her Cube research then? It seems a perfectly sensible request - she's head of Natural Sciences, one would have thought it was her field of expertise.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.24pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.24pm

Ah. Wheels within wheels.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.25pm===

From: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.25pm

What do you mean?

===10 Oct. 2003 3.27pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.27pm

Just that he has his own research interests and perhaps doesn't want anyone else
to encroach on them.

===10 Oct. 2003 3.28pm===

From: [[Astrid Lindstrom]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: SFC 
Date: 10 Oct. 2003 3.28pm

Oh. Right. Heh. Not too sinister then... I thought she might have had some actual reason for that threat to steal the thing.

==Super Sneaky!==
--------------

===22 Dec. 2003 5.48pm===

From: name withheld 
To: name withheld 
Subject: 
Date: 22 Dec. 2003 5.48pm

As you well know, there are those who are attached to our cause who are more
senior than you. They know where their true allegiance lies. Make your excuses
and leave the meeting.

V.

==Sneaky!==
--------------

===8 Jan. 2004 2.28am===

From: name withheld 
To: name withheld 
Subject: 
Date: 8 Jan. 2004 2.28am

It's not my fault. I simply mistook the contact. The contact gave the
appropriate response to the feeder line and correctly completed the
third element. I barely gave anything away before realising the error. She
didn't appear suspicious. Contact correctly identified within two
hours. I don't think this need go further up the line. Please do not refer
to [[V]].

===8 Jan. 2004 2.31am===

From: name withheld 
To: name withheld 
Subject: 
Date: 8 Jan. 2004 2.31am

I don't think you appreciate the gravity of the situation. With only a week to
go, the entire project could have been compromised. I will need to consider this
further.

==Sick Kiteway on Ball-Night==
--------------

===15 Jan. 2004 3.28pm===

From: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Re: Party arrangements 
Date: 15 Jan. 2004 3.28pm

Hiya - sorry, you know I said I was coming down with something? Well, it's
turned into definite flu: headache, achey joints etc. I don't think I can make
it tonight. Scarlett's coming, though, isn't she? I'm sure it'll be a great
success as usual.

V.

===15 Jan. 2004 3.51pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
Subject: Re: Re: Party arrangements
Date: 15 Jan. 2004 3.51pm

Do you want me to send someone over to take a look at you?

S.

===15 Jan. 2004 3.55pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Party arrangements 
Date: 15 Jan. 2004 3.55pm

No no. I'll be fine. Already got a diagnosis from the home system. It's just
flu. A night in bed and I'll be fine tmrw. Bad timing I know.

V.

==Lettie wants a favour==
--------------

===3 April 2005 12.17pm===

From: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Favour.... 
Date: 3 April 2005 12.17pm

[[Sente Kiteway|Dad]].... would you let [[Violet Kiteway|Violet]] know that I borrowed [[Violet Kiteway's Embroidered Bag|her embroidered bag]] and, well, kind of spilled juice on it.... I promise I'll get her a new one, honest, but I know she'll be cross and it'd be so better coming from you... Pleeease?

xxx
[[Scarlett Kiteway|Lettie]]

===3 April 2005 1.56pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
Subject: Favour.... 
Date: 3 April 2005 1.56pm

Dear [[Scarlett Kiteway|Lettie]],

Yes, I've told [[Violet Kiteway|Violet]]. You're right, she was cross. Don't worry about getting her a new one - I've told her to treat herself to a new bag and I'll pay for it. Just don't do it again!

Love,
[[Sente Kiteway|Dad]]

===3 April 2005 3.35pm===

From: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Favour.... 
Date: 3 April 2005 3.35pm

<nowiki>:-D</nowiki>. Thanks [[Sente Kiteway|Dad]] you're the best!

xxx
[[Scarlett Kiteway|Lettie]],

==Unknown to Unknown==
--------------

===27 April 2005 8.54am===

From: name withheld
To: name withheld
Subject:
Date: 27 Apr. 2005 8.54am

And Q? Do we wish to take any other retributive measures? As a message to anyone else who might be tempted to try to steal from us?

V.

==Uncle calls Nieces==
--------------

===10 June 2005 2.27pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Violet Kiteway]], [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 2.27pm

Your Aunty [[Annaliese Adamek]] and I feel it's far too long since we last saw you. Would you girls be free for tea tomorrow afternoon? Say 4pm?

Love, 
Uncle Sanj

===10 June 2005 2.32pm===

From: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 2.32pm

Ooooh... lovely! Don't suppose Aunty [[Annliese Adamek|Annaliese]] is going to make her *coffee cake* is she....?

===10 June 2005 2.33pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 2.33pm

Could be ;)

===10 June 2005 8.27pm===

From: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 8.27pm

Sorry Uncle Sanj, I can't this weekend, I've got a big project I'm working on. Maybe another time?

===10 June 2005 8.48pm===

From: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
To: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 8.48pm

Oh dear, that is disappointing. You can't even take an hour off to come and tell us about this big exciting project?

===10 June 2005 8.54pm===

From: [[Violet Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sanjean Adamek]] 
Subject: Tea 
Date: 10 June 2005 8.54pm

Not this weekend, sorry. Maybe next weekend?

==Sente Calls Anna, Urgently==
--------------

===14 June 2005 4.01pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.01pm

[[Anna Heath|Anna]] -

Can you come and see me immediately? There's an extremely urgent matter
I need to discuss with you.

S.

===14 June 2005 4.03pm===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.03pm

I'm just going into a meeting of the CRT. Can it wait half an hour?

===14 June 2005 4.04pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.04pm

I'm afraid not. Cancel your meeting.

===14 June 2005 4.38pm===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.38pm

[[Aiko Entrescore|Aiko's]] personnel file is attached. As you can see we've always been aware that
she was strongly religious. I do not see that this has the slightest implication
for her work.

===14 June 2005 4.39pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.39pm

I disagree. This information is certainly evidence in the theft of the Cube. I'm turning it over to the proper authorities now.

===14 June 2005 4.46pm===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.46pm

Honestly, I can't believe [[Aiko Entrescore|Aiko]] had anything to do with that! I'm surprised you're being taken in by what is obviously a piece of spiteful misinformation. And even if it is true, surely it would be logical for [[Aiko Entrescore|Aiko]] to be particularly motivated to bring the [[Receda Cube|Cube]] home, rather than wanting to transport it to another world? This simply doesn't make sense.

===14 June 2005 4.48pm===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]] 
Subject: Confidential matter 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.48pm

[[Anna Heath|Anna]] -

I respect your abilities as a team leader, but this is out of our hands now. The
matter is closed.

[[Sente Kiteway|S]].

===14 June 2005 4.54pm===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Roberto Solitano]] 
Subject: Confidential 
Date: 14 June 2005 4.54pm

Can I come and see you urgently this afternoon, please? I have a problem and really need to talk it through.

==Kurt is NOT dating Violet!==
--------------

===7 Sept. 2005 3.21pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.21pm

Hey - [[Anna Heath|Anna]] said you weren't doing anything tonight. Want to come out with me and [[Violet Kiteway|Violet]] and a couple of her friends? There's a classic movie programme at [[Ascendancy Point]] with lectures beforehand, then we'll probably grab some dinner.

===7 Sept. 2005 3.23pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.23pm

Great! Don't suppose any of [[Violet Kiteway|Violet's]] friends coming tonight are girls, are they? :-D

===7 Sept. 2005 3.26pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.26pm

Don't know. I'm sure she can rustle someone up for you though. She knows everyone.

===7 Sept. 2005 3.27pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.27pm

<nowiki>:-D</nowiki>. I'll make sure I wear a clean shirt. Hey - how long have you and Violet been together?

===7 Sept. 2005 3.38pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.38pm

Ummm. We're not really *together*, you know.

===7 Sept. 2005 3.45pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.45pm

Really? ***Blush*** I just thought... since you guys seem to hang out together
so much... and you don't have another girlfriend... I just assumed.... Sorry.

===7 Sept. 2005 3.46pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.46pm

Grrr. Does no one remember that girl in the anthro team I went out with for *six weeks* in the spring?!

===7 Sept. 2005 3.48pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.48pm

Sorry... :-(

===7 Sept. 2005 3.50pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Sept. 2005 3.50pm

Hey, it's OK. Everyone seems to think so.

==Camaraderie==
--------------

===9 Sept. 2005 9.38am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.38am

How are you feeling this morning?

===9 Sept. 2005 9.40am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.40am 

Wishing my key didn't make so much noise?

===9 Sept. 2005 9.41am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.41am

I thought you had the Rambler X50? Absolutely silent running?

===9 Sept. 2005 9.42am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.42am

Still. Too. Loud.

===9 Sept. 2005 9.43am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.43am

Ah. Yes. I see. Still, it was a good night.

===9 Sept. 2005 9.44am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.44am

Yeah, thanks for coming! Shame no one else from the team made it - we were on fire last night!

===9 Sept. 2005 9.45am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.45am

Literally, at one point, as I recall.

===9 Sept. 2005 9.46am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.46am

Oh yeah, cheers for chucking your lemonade over that. :-)

''This item was supposedly posted at 9.36, however I believe this is incorrecct. It seems to make good sense here at 9.46 [[User:Scott|Scott]]''

===9 Sept. 2005 9.47am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.47am

No problem. This kind of emergency is just what they train us for in the Defence Forces. That and escorting the drunk-and-disorderly home.

===9 Sept. 2005 9.48am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.48am

Yeah, cheers for that too! Don't remember a huge amount after that third Mazy Slammer....

===9 Sept. 2005 9.50am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 9.50am

Oh don't worry, you were perfectly civil if a bit emphatic on the subject of the things you insisted I didn't tell anyone else ever ever ever.

===9 Sept. 2005 10.12am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.12am

What -things- exactly?

===9 Sept. 2005 10.13am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.13am

Ah, that would be telling.

===9 Sept. 2005 10.14am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.14am

No, seriously, what -things-?

===9 Sept. 2005 10.15am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.15am

Remember, I've been trained to withstand torture. You have no need to fear. Your secret is safe with me, Tristan....

===9 Sept. 2005 10.16am===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.16am

I'm going to be buying you drinks from now until forever, aren't I?

===9 Sept. 2005 10.17am===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Morning after 
Date: 9 Sept. 2005 10.17am

Oh yes.

==Scarlett reports from Tanraga==
--------------

===21 Sept. 2005 9.34pm===

From: [[Scarlett Kiteway]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]], [[Violet Kiteway]] 
Subject: Pix! 
Date: 21 Sept. 2005 9.34pm

Hey guys

Just to let you know I'm having a great time! Soooo beautiful here, as you can see from attached pic - it's tiring though... see the tall pine in the distance? That's where we had to get to by nightfall!

Love,
[[Scarlett Kiteway|Scarlett]]

==Caine's Mischief in the Founder's Gallery==
--------------

===23 Sept. 2005 8.38am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 8.38am

Have you been through Founder's Gallery this morning

===23 Sept. 2005 8.40am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 8.40am

I'm not telling you. You have to see it for yourself. Seriously. Go now
before they wash it off.

===23 Sept. 2005 9.12am===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.12am

That's brilliant! Who did it?

===23 Sept. 2005 9.15am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.15am

If I tell you, are you sure you can keep it to yourself?

===23 Sept. 2005 9.16am===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.16am

Of course. Cross my heart and hope to die.

===23 Sept. 2005 9.17am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.17am 

Is that one of your weird Earthisms?

===23 Sept. 2005 9.18am===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.18am

Yeah. It means - honestly, I completely promise, I won't tell anyone.

===23 Sept. 2005 9.20am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.20am

OK. It was [[Caine Johansson|Caine]].

===23 Sept. 2005 9.21am===

From: [[Von Lubick]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.21am

No!!!!!!! How do you know???????

===23 Sept. 2005 9.22am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Yellow 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.22am

Take a look at his hands, boy wonder ;-).

===23 Sept. 2005 9.40am===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: I would say 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 9.40am

That today would be a good day to go back home and call in sick a bit later.
Fortunately for you, only Von and I are in the office so far to see your
telltale fingernails. My advice is, cut them as short as you can and use
McWhirter's Reliable Remover. Old fashioned but it works. It was a nice piece of performance theatre, though.

==Wrapped around her pinky==
--------------

===23 Sept. 2005 11.22am===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Coffee 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 11.22am

Hey - can you be a sweetie and just go out and get me a latte? With a muffin?
Blueberry if possible? And please remember to bring napkins because last time
you forgot.

===23 Sept. 2005 12.34am===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: [[Von Lubik|Von]] 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 12.34pm

Kurt... asking this because I know Von looks up to you. Do you think you could find some way to let him know that getting coffee for Tippy isn't part of his job description? He doesn't need to be rude, just tell her that he has work to be getting on with. I'll have a word with her privately.

===23 Sept. 2005 1.53pm===

From: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: [[Tippy Ankron|Tippy]] 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 1.53pm 

Don't mean to interfere but you know that you don't have to get coffee for Tippy, right? She's perfectly capable of doing it herself.

===23 Sept. 2005 1.57pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Kurt McAllister]] 
Subject: Coffee 
Date: 23 Sept. 2005 1.57pm

<nowiki>:-D</nowiki>. I know, but I guess I'm the office junior so it's kind of my job, right? I mean, she wouldn't ask me if it wasn't, would she? :-).

==Laundry List==
--------------

===29 Sept. 2005 7.15am===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Patrick Azadian]] 
Subject: 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 7.15am

P -

1. Pls check with CRR et al for status report. 
2. Do we have the agenda for the 3pm [[PCAG]] meeting? 
3. Pls chase [[Estelle Sedgewick|Sedgewick]] for her budget proposals. Again.

S.

===29 Sept. 2005 7.22am===

From: [[Patrick Azadian]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 7.22am

Agenda is attached. CRR promise to revert shortly. Have chased Sedgewick but don't expect a great deal of joy. Shall I arrange a meeting with [[Roberto Solitano|Solitano]]?

===29 Sept. 2005 7.29am===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Patrick Azadian]] 
Subject: 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 7.29am

That wd be helpful. Thank you. Today if possible. I may need you this evening as well - CS is looking for a financial report asap.

===29 Sept. 2005 7.32am===

From: [[Patrick Azadian]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Apologies 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 7.32am

Might have to cancel raquetball tonight - S is trying to churn through some financial stuff today. Can we reschedule?

==Confidential Conscription==
--------------

===29 Sept. 2005 7.38am===

From: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
To: [[Lyssa Ling]] 
Subject: Briefing this afternoon 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 7.38am

Lyssa -

Could you make time this afternoon for a meeting of the special project
team? We would appreciate your expertise in some areas that are
concerning us. I'm sure I need not remind you that the existence of this
meeting is to be kept strictly confidential. If necessary, I can tell [[Henrik Tanner|Henrik]]
I need you to assist the puzzle scribes. 5pm?

S.

===29 Sept. 2005 9.54am===

From: [[Lyssa Ling]] 
To: [[Sente Kiteway]] 
Subject: Briefing this afternoon 
Date: 29 Sept. 2005 9.54am

Sure. It's no problem re: [[Henrik Tanner|Henrik]].

==Stapler Wars==
--------------

===3 Oct. 2005 1.59pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]], [[Garnet Reed]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Caine Johansson]], [[Von Lubik]], [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 1.59pm

For the last time, PLEASE will you ALL stop taking my stapler!

===3 Oct. 2005 2.04pm===

From: [[Caine Johansson]], 
To: [[Anna Heath]], [[Garnet Reed]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Tippy Ankron]], [[Von Lubik]], [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.04pm

Nobody's taken your stapler, [[Tippy Ankron|Tipper]]. We've all got our own.

===3 Oct. 2005 2.05pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Anna Heath]], [[Garnet Reed]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Caine Johansson]], [[Tippy Ankron]], [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.05pm

Maybe it was the janitor?

===3 Oct. 2005 2.06pm===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.06pm

Shhh! Don't give her ideas! She'll only start blaming him instead of us.

===3 Oct. 2005 2.07pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.07pm 

But maybe it really was him? Maybe he put it somewhere out of the way...?

===3 Oct. 2005 2.08pm===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.08pm

It wasn't him.

===3 Oct. 2005 2.09pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.09pm

How do you know?

===3 Oct. 2005 2.10pm===

From: [[Caine Johansson]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.10pm

I just know, OK?

===3 Oct. 2005 2.15pm===

From: [[Anna Heath]] 
To: [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Stapler 
Date: 3 Oct. 2005 2.15pm

Put it back. She'll only end up blaming Von again, and you know how he can't say
no to her.

==Tippy Advances, Aiko Recrudesces==
--------------

===7 Oct. 2005 3.23pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Garnet Reed]] 
Subject: Tonite 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 3.23pm

Hey - Don't suppose you'd fancy getting together after work tonight? Am sooo
exhausted, was thinking just a quiet dinner at [[Melinda]]'s? Just the two of us - I
promise no discussion of work!

Tips

===7 Oct. 2005 3.29pm===

From: [[Garnet Reed]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
Subject: Tonight 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 3.29pm

Sorry, I have plans tonight.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.02pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Anna Heath]], [[Aiko Entrescore]], [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.02pm

Hey guys - How do you lot fancy a wild night tonight? Dinner at [[Conundra]]? Dancing at [[Didakoi]]? Out till morning? Let's party!

Tips.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.06pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Anna Heath]], [[Aiko Entrescore]], [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.06pm

Hey, did you leave Garnet off the list? Shouldn't we ask him too?

===7 Oct. 2005 4.08pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Von Lubik]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Anna Heath]], [[Aiko Entrescore]], [[Caine Johansson]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.08pm

No, I think [[Garnet Reed|Mr Chest-full-of-medals]] has more important things to be doing than hanging out with us.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.09pm===

From: [[Von Lubik]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]], [[Kurt McAllister]], [[Anna Heath]], [[Aiko Entrescore]], [[Caine Johanssen]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.09pm

<nowiki>:-D</nowiki> What did Garnet ever do to you?

===7 Oct. 2005 4.11pm===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.11pm

[[Tippy Ankron|Tippy]]. I would appreciate it if you did not refer to [[Garnet Reed|Garnet]] in such a disrespectful way. He has been a member of the defence forces of this city for many years, has assisted in the capture of numerous criminals and has been awarded every one of those "chest full of medals" for distinguished service. When you've done anything so worthwhile, you'll have earned the right to criticise.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.13pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.13pm

Hey! Who tipped your wheel Aiko? Garnet can be a bit stuck-up is all I was trying to say.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.15pm===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.15pm

Well, don't say it to me.

===7 Oct. 2005 4.17pm===

From: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
To: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.17pm

What did he ever do for you? You got the hots for him or something?

===7 Oct. 2005 4.24pm===

From: [[Aiko Entrescore]] 
To: [[Tippy Ankron]] 
Subject: Tonite!!! 
Date: 7 Oct. 2005 4.24pm

OK. If you want to know what he did for me, this is it: when I was arrested (remember that? remember how you *didn't* come to see me, send me a message....?) [[Garnet Reed|Garnet]] stayed with me in the police station. He came to see me and talk to me. He helped me find good defence lawyers. And when I was released, he switched apartments with me, so that I didn't have to deal with all that media for a while. OK? That's what he did for me. Come back when you've done as much. Oh, and I won't be coming to dinner this evening.

Talk:Tales From Earth:Perplex City D20 Module

2005-12-19T17:20:24Z

Hituro:

I love this background idea, its a great contribution, but I am not sure you can claim not to be using OGL material and then have reference to Fort, Ref and Will saves, skill points and Base Attack Bonus. Even without discussion of stats and the details of the combat system you are still touching on core D20 material and would be bound by the OGL I shoult think.

In terms of other OGL material that would be appropriate I should imagine that this would be better designed using D20 Modern than the core D20 (with all its fantasy references). This is especially designed for settings such as this, and has a more flexible class structure as well.

Tales From Earth:people games

2005-12-13T23:21:51Z

Hituro:

''In Perplex City, so we hear, games are a central part of life. On Earth too games can be important, but for some people both games and fantasy can go too far and spill over into real life ...''

I play games. More precisely, I play games with people. I turn them into my playing pieces. Everywhere I go I play games with those around me, in my head. Is it madness? Is it because I’m afraid of them? Playing games with people makes them harmless. Have you ever been afraid of a pawn on a chessboard; of an ace in a pack of cards? I doubt it. People, people are something to be afraid of. People can be dangerous, people can hurt you, people can come out of the darkness of the city and rob you, mock you, scorn you. Playing pieces never do that. Playing pieces aren’t real.

You probably don’t understand what I am saying. Either that or you have already stopped reading this and you are shaking your head at the crazy man; heck I’d probably have done that by now. On the off-chance that your are still reading this though (and hey, you must be, or you don’t know I said that), let me back up and start again, at a more plausible sort of place.

I’m a guy, I live in a city, in the west, on planet Earth. I don’t think it matters what my name is, or what city I live in, any city would do. If you like imagine its your city, or, if you don’t live in the same part of the world (or the same world) as I do, then imagine it like this. My city, it’s a big place, a busy place, full of anonymous people rushing too and fro, each about their own business. Most people you see on the streets you will never see again, no matter how many times you walk down the same busy road. You don’t know them, and they most certainly don’t know you. When you come right down to it you have to take it on faith that they really are people like you at all, with the same desires and needs and fears. Someone could come down in the night and replace them all with robot doubles, capable of walking and talking, beeping their car horns, cutting you up in traffic, and pushing in front of you at shop doors, and you would be none the wiser. For all you know they were all replaced a long time ago.

In this city even your neighbours are strangers. They live in the same building as you, nod hello as they pass you on the stairs, leave your mail on the windowsill when it gets delivered to them by mistake, and know nothing more. They don’t notice when your friends come round (except to bang on the walls and shout ‘keep the noise down’), or when your father dies, or when you wake up the morning in tears, or when today seems like the best day in the world. And you know what, you don’t notice any of that stuff when it happens to them either. Worse, if you did, you wouldn’t really care. Even if they were to stop you, one day, on the stairs, and say “My Father died today” you would be hard pressed to muster more than a “Oh I’m sorry to hear that” because they aren’t your friends, they are just the people you live amongst.

So that’s the city. Crowded, isolated, packed, lonely … anonymous. And that anonymity gives rise to one thing more than any other, fear. Anyone who lives in a city like mine lives in fear all the time, I know I do. I am afraid of the people who spill out of the pubs and clubs as the night grows late, crowding and shouting, spoiling for a fight. I am afraid of the men rushing by recklessly in their cars. I am afraid of my boss, and his boss, and his bosses boss, any of whom might leave me without a job at a moment’s notice; because really they don’t care about me at all.

I am afraid of the gangs of kids who crowd at the street corners, drunk on medicinal wine and high on spray cans, laughing as they kick the sides of bins drop their bottles on the ground. I am afraid of the people who lurk on the edges of my eyesight when I walk through the streets late at night, waiting for them to come up behind me and demand my wallet, or hold a knife to my back, just another nameless victim in the dark.

In short I am afraid of anyone and everyone. I’m frightened of what everyone could do to me, at any moment. I keep my head down, my collar up, the hood of my coat over my head, so that no one can see me. So that no one can see my fear, and out of the corner of my eye I watch them, and hate them, and wish I could do something about the fear.

It’s the modern condition, so I’m told, that fear. When you don’t know anyone, and no one knows you, what remains to make them see you as human at all? I live in a world which is obsessed with rights, human rights, consumer rights, laws and regulations, simply because we all know that without regulations and enforcements no one is really going to treat us like humans at all. Maybe once, when we lived in little tribes and villages, when everyone around us was kith and kin, grandparents and cousins and nieces, we may not have needed laws to make us respect our neighbours, but now we most certainly do. I’m just another person in a faceless crowd, in just another city, in just another country. There are so many of us now that none of us are real any more. Are you famous? Are you rich? No? Then you are just like me. Your only value is in your own head.

So what has this diatribe to do with anything, you may well ask. Didn’t the start of this crazy little rant have something to do with games, way back there at the top of the first page. Yes it did. I started off by telling you that I’m crazy, that I play games with other people in my head. What do I mean by that?

Take the simplest example. Have you ever played that game where you sit in a public place and look at the people around you, trying to guess what sort of job they do? It’s a great game to play with your friends, you can giggle behind your hand, point where only your friend can see, and say ‘that one is a doctor’ and ‘that one has probably been to prison, can’t you see’. Or you can do it the easy way and just laugh at the fashions you hate, thinking, that one is fat, that one is skinny, that one has a silly haircut. I don’t like them. You can do that in your head as well, on your own. Can you imagine that? Its easy enough.

So, make it a little more complicated. Imagine yourself on a city street, walking. A little way ahead of you there is a man, or a group of men. Look at them. Imagine that a line of light extends from each one of them, a glowing line, connecting each one to his neighbour. Multiple lines perhaps, connecting each to many. Place them in a grid, an array of triangles, a packed expanse of hexagons, or polygons, joined by a web of light, knitted together in a spider web, entrapped and moved in sequence.

Look at their feet. Imagine that each stands at the centre of an area of control, defined by the interconnections between them, colour them, pattern them, grab space and own it with the people as pieces. In this game the people are hardly important, it is the shape and space that matters. The more people capturing an area the more secure it is; the more intricate the pattern, the better the strategy. If you like you can replace the people too, in your mind’s eye, turn them into chessmen, go stones, abstract tiles, it doesn’t matter.

Seem reasonable still?

Well here’s another one for you, if you like things simple. Count them. Count each person who walks past you. Count each man, or each woman. Count each child, or each male child, or each brunette, or redhead, or big breasted woman. Count the ones you like, or the ones you hate, or the ones with a certain kind of clothing. Give each one a score out of ten, or twenty and add them up. Memorise the nicest ones for later. After all people are just pictures aren’t they, to be collected.

Not enough for you yet?

Well back to the street again. Imagine yourself armed and armoured, with a rocking beat echoing your every step. The cars in the street are platforms to leap upon, the walls runways, the people foes to defeat. Cut and slash at them, a spin, a turn, a whistle of the blade and their heads will bounce away into the rain and the dark; their bodies will fly away from you. Jumping and running in your mind’s eye, dodging the blows that come at you. Grab the next man by the arm, duck under his grasp, then pivot, coming up behind him, a quick blow to the back will see him down, turned to dust, exploded in light.

Or maybe you prefer another weapon. Your mind can supply anything you want. A machine gun, a sniper’s rifle, a light sabre, a laser gun, a bomb or a speeding car. You can play the classics, 10 points for a man, 20 for a child, double for a little old lady. ‘Drat’ you say to yourself, ‘could have run that one down’.

Am I worrying you yet? I think you should be worried. Think about it this way. If people mean nothing to you, what’s to stop you hurting them. I am the only special thing in a world crowded with drones, with shadows, with puzzle pieces, with my playthings. The rules and conventions of society are not the rules of my game, of my games. Out in the darkness, in the alleys, in the byways, I can conquer my fear at last. They can’t hurt me if I hurt them first, and the best thing of all is that their pain doesn’t matter. I’ve already reduced them to playing pieces, things to amuse me, things to please me. I can’t feel their pain, I can’t feel their fear, I’m too busy taking revenge on them for all the fear I’ve felt, over the years. Another anonymous stranger bites the dust. Ten points.

Scared now?

You know what should really scare you? The fact that I’m sane. If I weren’t sane I couldn’t be writing this for you, and I couldn’t keep the games in my head. I’m not the sociopath. There are people out there who aren’t like me, and hopefully not like you either. They can’t see what’s wrong with the picture I just painted you. To them the rules of society are as arbitrary as the rules of any game could be. They don’t mean anything, they are just there to be used, to be played, to be exploited.

They are still afraid, even if they can’t face that fear. Their fears may not be as rational as mine, if mine are rational in the first place, but they drive everything that they do. Its not physical pain that makes them the way they are, but the emotional fear of how a confusing world could hurt them. The fact that someone could make them look stupid, that someone could embarrass them, that someone could make them feel less than the gods they are sure that they are. They don’t fear the faceless mass of people threatening to swallow them up, because they are the ones playing the game. They are the ones moving through the world unseen, pushing people the way they want them to go, pushing them around on the board inside their head until everything is just the way they want it to be. Then they can pull a single person, a single piece, out of the game and do whatever they wish.

So we are all afraid. We all look askance at the people who pass us in the street, wondering what they might do to us, and we all retreat inside our heads to take away the fear. But next time you amuse yourself playing games in your head, like I do, like we all do, remember … someone may be out to play a game with you. For real.

Tales From Earth:Dicing With the Devil

2005-12-13T23:18:24Z

Hituro:

''On Earth, where intellect doesn't bear the same importance as in PerplexCity, games of chance occupy most of the space that games of skill do for you. When chance governs your success, and the house always comes out on top, gambling for a life usually leads to poverty and failure. For someone in that situation anything might seem a preferrable outcome to loosing. The very existence of Sharp Red is enough to make me suspect that it might not really be so different in Perplex City after all.''

== Dicing with the Devil ==

The dice are cold in my clenched fist, three of them together. I can feel their rounded corners biting into my flesh, and in my mind’s eye I can see them; red and glittering like rubies, with white pips set into their glossy faces. If I throw them now, they will clatter down and come to rest just so, all the pips upward, six and six and six again; the devil’s number.

Around me, in the bright lights and noisy darkness of the casino, I can hear the voices cheering, egging me on, shouting “Roll ‘em! Roll ‘em!” This is the day, the hour, the minute I have lived my life for, the day I can take my revenge.

One, two, three … I shake the dice back and forth in my fist, staring at the black baize of the table in front of me. Staring at the white lines and the red numbers, at the heaps of chips, at the one great heap of chips, right there on the number eighteen. One roll away from victory, one roll away from fortune, one roll away from breaking Castro and his God dam casino for ever. And all I have to do is roll an eighteen.

Only if I do, my soul will be the price.

*

Lights flash in my mind’s eye, drawing me back three days, three long days, into the past. For a moment the faces of the crowd in the dark, the bright green of the baize, the heat of the light blazing down on me and the shadowy croupier, all go spiralling away like a tunnel; taking me away from the moment back to the table, in the Blue Lagoon bar that Wednesday night.

I was drinking away my last rotten ten dollars in gulps of cheap tequila, fingering the last few coins in one hand and a glass in the other. Across the bar, in the window over the road, the blue neon buzzed on and off intermittently, like a bug catcher full of flies. I watched the bright lights of the traffic outside, swishing past in the hot summer rain, out towards the lake, and the backs of the men and women at the bar, drowning their thoughts in liquor.

I didn’t really take in any of it. All I could hear was Castro’s voice, drawling over the polished expanse of his desk while his two oafs held me down in the chair with one heavy hand on my shoulder. “Please please,” I begged, “Give me another chance Mr Castro sir, I’ll make it back, I know I can. All I need is one lucky day, one lucky day sir!” Pathetic.

And then Castro’s heavy tones, “No it won’t do Billy boy, no it won’t do at all. There ain’t no more credit for you. Your all bum out of it Billy boy, there’s not a cent left for you. You’re a loser Billy, you lost it all.” He shook his head. “There’s no place for you here any more.”

Desperately I fumbled at the papers I’d brought with me. “No look Mr Castro, I’ve got the deeds to my house, the papers for my car, you can have ‘em, everything, just let me play!” I stumbled on the words, but Castro only shook his head sadly, knowing as well as I did that the car had been towed already, and that the house had gone to Alice for alimony.

“Boys,” he said with a sigh, “Show Billy out … and don’t let him back in.”

So there I was in the Blue Lagoon the next night, with my last ten dollars in a glass in front of me and all the rest of my belongings in a case at my feet. The day before was lost in a haze of drink and anger. I can just recall trying to break my way in through the line of bouncers at the casino door, and being thrown back, down the steps, into the rain. Tumbling over and over into the gutter; lying there until I crawled off to find a bottle to drown myself in.

I was broken out of my reverie by the realisation that someone had just spoken to me. I looked up and saw a man standing over the table, dapper and slick as you like. His black hair was gelled back over his scalp, leaving a pair of arching pencil eyebrows over dark eyes. He had a little moustache, like a French waiter, and an elegant angular chin. His suit was all red silk and black, with shiny buttons and creases you could cut yourself on. I took for a pimp or a hustler, a professional card shark just like me … only still in the big time.

“William Smith?” the hustler asked in a smooth south-western accent. His voice was like sweet molasses, slow and smooth and black as night. I peered up from under bleary brows and gruffed out “Who wants to know? You come collecting debts? ‘Cause I ain’t got a thing more than what I’m wearin’ here.” I tried for a chuckle and ended up coughing instead.

“No no Mr Smith,” the hustler replied, “I’ve come with an offer for you, an offer you won’t want to refuse.”

I leant back and pushed the other chair out from the table with one foot. “Well in that case, call me Billy.”

The hustler sat down at the second chair, his red suit rustling with the whisper of silk as he settled down. He called over a waitress to order a Hellfire, and then rested his elbows on the table top, swirling the drink in one long pale hand. “A Hellfire eh?” I said at last, when the silence started to drag, “That’s a new one on me, mister ….” I let the pause ask the question.

“You can call me Mr Mephistopheles.” He smiled “And it’s a Prairie Fire with a dash of Hot Damn thrown in; tequila, tabasco and cinnamon sauce.”

I raised one eyebrow and put by empty glass back on the table. “Mr Mephistopheles eh? Like the devil in the comic?”

The hustler leaned forward and fixed me with his dancing black eyes. “Oh exactly like the devil mister Billy, exactly like him.”

I felt suddenly more sober and thought to myself ‘look out, it’s a crazy one’. I felt down for the bag at my feet and prepared to leave, but the hustler, Mr Mephistopheles, lifted up a hand and flashed a fifty to catch the waitress’ eye. “Let me buy you a drink at least” he said in a reasonable tone, and, over his shoulder, “A glass of your most expensive for my friend, and keep it coming!” I let go of my bag and sank back into my seat. Crazy, but crazy with money. “Sure thing boss.” I smiled my best smile and took the drink when it came, feeling it warm between my hands. “Gotta hand it to a guy who’ll spare a drink for a gambler down on his luck.”

The hustler smiled a smile full of perfect white teeth and asked “How would you like it if I could turn that luck around?” Something about the tone of his voice caught me with the glass half way to my lips. I knew he had some crazy plan for me, some gambler’s get rich quick scheme, and damn me if I didn’t want to hear it anyway. I was halfway to crazy town myself, and all the way to the gutter. Suddenly there was only me and him in that place, sitting where the neon light buzzed and the rain drummed. The rest of the Blue Lagoon blurred out in the corners of my vision, and all I could see was that white smile gleaming under a curve of cruel lips and neat black hair.

His lips parted and he said “What is it that you want the most, right now.”

Without even knowing exactly why I found myself saying “Revenge. What I really want is revenge. I want to crush that fucking Castro and his fucking casino. I want to go in there and bust the house, bust it wide open! I want to take the dice in my hands and take everything he has, every penny on the million to one shot, on the final roll!” The words all came pouring out in a rush, till I took a gulp of the tequila to stop them, and I realised dimly that I was trembling from head to toe.

“And what would you say,” asked Mr Mephistopheles, “If I told you I could give you just that?”

I let out the breath I was holding with a throaty chuckle. “I’d say where do I sign mister.” I snorted. “But it ain’t going to happen, is it? Must be a hundred bums like me up and down the Strip who dream the same thing. Break the bank, bust the casino, roll it out with more money than you can carry. I wish!” I waited for him to laugh or go back to his drink, but his perfect smile never wavered.

“No need to wish,” the hustler said, “I’m the devil after all Billy boy, all you need to do is sign on the dotted line.” With a flourish of his left hand he produced a sheet of paper from somewhere and slapped it down on the table in front of me, like a stage magician saying ‘here’s your card!’. With his right hand he slipped a red pen from his breast pocket and laid on the paper, pushing both of them towards me across the table. I reached out and slid it closer. There was a logo I didn’t recognise at the top of the page, and under it ‘Delaney Entertainment and Vanity Institute Limited’, and then a paragraph of legal jumbo starting ‘I the undersigned do hereby agree to the following terms and conditions …’. A contract. My eyes skipped to the end and took in the last words, “… at the following cost to myself, my soul.”

I jerked back in my chair, away from the contract and him. What the hell! It really was a devil’s contract, a contract for my soul! The only thought in my head was getting out of there, away from him, but then a warm hand closed on mine, pressing something into my clammy palm, something hard, and square, and smooth. Dice. I tried to shake my hand free, but the hustler held me, half out of his own chair, folding my fingers around the dice. “Look what I’m offering you Billy boy!” he purred, “Just roll ‘em and see.”

I thought, what the hell, but I made to roll them anyway, if only to get his hand off mine, but he stopped me, gripping my sweating fist with fingers as strong as steel. “Tell me first,” he said, “What are you going to roll?”

“How the hell should I know!” I snapped, but his perfect smile never wavered. “Just tell me Billy boy.”

I plucked a number from the air, snarling “Snake eyes” as I tried to yank my hand from his grip, and suddenly I was free and the dice were free too, tumbling from my hand, clattering across the table top, till they bounced off the devil’s glass and came to rest, pips upwards, one and one; snake eyes.

“Well I’ll be …”

I looked back at the hustler, who was smiling at me over the rim of his glass again, and shook off the chill that danced up my spine. “Its just co-incidence,” I muttered, “It could happen to anyone!” The hustler never said a thing, but I could read his silence loud as words, it said, well pick ‘em up and try again. My hand hesitated for a moment, hovering over the dice, and then I grabbed them and tossed them on the table picking ‘six’ out of the air as I let them fly. Five and one.

I snatched them back and threw them again, and again, a different number each time, and always just the one I wanted! The third time I felt that old familiar feeling come rushing up over me, like I’m on the crest of the wave and no one can stop me! Better than booze, better than sex; you’re a winner again Billy boy!

I sank back down in my chair, the dice still in my hand, and stared at the light that reflected off the hustler’s ice as he tilted the cubes round and round the circle of his empty glass. “How’d you …” I started, “How’d I? What the heck are these dice made of?”

The hustler smiled his perfect smile and told me it wasn’t the dice it was me. All I had to do was sign on the dotted line and the power would be mine. Heck, I didn’t even need to sign in blood! Just as soon as I put my scrawl to the contract I could walk out of the Strip a made man. I could break any game in town. I could break Castro!

I picked up the contract again and read it through, twice, trying to concentrate on the words, and not the voice in the back of my head clamouring for me to sign already and go show old man Castro that no one throws Billy the kid out of their casino. “So let me get this straight. I sign this bit of paper and you give me the power to always throw the winning hand. And all you want in return is my soul but only, only, if I throw an eighteen? Only then?”

He smiled and shrugged, his hands wide open. “Well what can I do,” he chuckled, “It is the devil’s number, after all.”

“But if I sign this contract I’ll never roll a number I don’t want to roll! I’ll never toss an eighteen if I don’t want too, never!”

“You got me, its true. That’s the deal I’m offering you.”

“But why?” I took a swig of the tequila, feeling the warm fire flood through my already burning veins, like a live wire. “I wasn’t born yesterday Mr M, I know a thing or too. Ain’t no way in Hell you gonna offer me a sweet ass deal like that unless you got an angle for yourself, ain’t no way. So what’s in it for you? What’s the catch?”

The hustler laughed and slapped the table top, sending the fancy red pen rolling across the contract till I caught it. “Well sure enough that’s true Billy boy,” he said, “I guess I can’t pull the wool over your eyes. The truth is this. You hate Miguel fucking Castro, well so do I!” He leaned across the table, resting his silk covered elbows on the polished wood and went on. “I’ve got interests in this town, Billy boy, I’ve got arrangements!” I nodded to myself, yeah, the Devil owns the Strip, go figure. “I’ve made deals with people, and I expect my deals to be kept, call it a thing with me, its just the way I am. Nobody pulls a fast one on Mr Mephistopheles. Nobody except Miguel Castro.” I had to laugh at that. If anyone in this town was going to cheat the devil it would be him.

“So you understand now? Yeah, I know you do Billy. You’ve got your reasons to want Castro taken down, well so do I. You and I got a common enemy Billy, and that makes us friends. What’s a million dollars or a no-catch deal between friends, Billy?”

A million dollars, he had me there. “Nothing,” I said, “Nothing.”

So I took the pen and signed.

*

I didn’t see Mr Mephistopheles again after that, I didn’t need to. I’d crept into the Blue Lagoon a bum and I walked out of there a prince of the world, clutching those dice in my hand and knowing nothing, nothing, was going to stop me. And there they are now, the dice, still there in my hands, rattling as I shake them over the black expanse of the table. One roll away from victory, one more roll that will break the bank, crack the casino, thrown Castro out on the street, into the rain, on his fucking ass.

And all I need is an eighteen. An eighteen to win it all.

Behind me I can feel bodies craning to look over my shoulder, to see the table in front of me. Carrie, Lauren, Stevie Mick, they all know I can do it, they all know its going to break the bank, it’s a done deal. They’ve been following me all the way these past few days, and what a roller coaster ride its been for them, and now, here we are, the final throw of the dice.

*

Back then, on Wednesday night in the rain, I stood outside the door of the Blue Lagoon and knew I needed a plan. Half of me was all for rushing to Castro’s place as fast as my legs could carry me, demanding to be let in, demanding to play, but the rest of me knew his boys would never let me in, it wouldn’t matter how lucky I was. I needed an angle, I needed a plan. I needed to make sure that no one would turn me away when I came calling, that no one would close my table before the final throw. For a moment I stood there in the warm western rain, watching the limousines roll past in the night, and I realised I knew just what to do.

I needed one of those limousines. I needed a sharp suit like the hustler’s. I needed enough money and class that no one going to turn me away from a casino door, not even Castro’s goons, and I needed it by Saturday night, when the cage was full, when the week’s winnings were about to be banked. When I could break the casino.

I started small. Walking away from the Blue Lagoon I picked a small casino, one where they didn’t know my face, and where a day’s worth of stubble and the stink of booze wasn’t a barrier to entry. All I had was a few dollar bills and a pocket full of change, but if the Devil’s gift wasn’t all in my head that was sure to be enough.

Inside the casino I stopped a moment on the entrance to the game floor and drank in the smell of money. I could hear coins clattering in the slot machine rows, and the staccato rattle of the roulette balls. I still had the hustler’s dice in my pocket and I fingered them now, thinking, Lady Luck, you got a date with me tonight! I paced the floor looking for a low stakes game of craps. It wasn’t easy, guys with just a few bucks usually head for the slot machines, but it was a small casino filled with small time hustlers and weekend gamblers; I took ‘em all.

The first time, with my pitiful few chips all heaped safely on the number ten, I still wasn’t quite sure this was going to work. My stomach was rumbling, and those chips could buy me a meal at least, but a meal wasn’t going to get me revenge. Then, when my hand closed on the cold cubes of the casino dice, I knew, I knew it was going to work. Lucky Ten, I called it in my head, and down they went along the table. Five and Five.

After that I was like a man possessed. I worked that joint for all it was worth, going up the tables. First bucks, then tens, then hundreds, then thousands. Man I was on fire! By the time I ran out of steam, surrounded by brand new friends and drunk on complimentary booze, I had a pile of chips I struggled to get to the cage. I dropped them all in the tray, grinning at the heap of plastic, and drawled “Get me a room, all the works!”

Needless to say I woke late the next day, with a pounding headache that still couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. I took a swig of aqua seltzer from the mini-bar and sank back on the rumpled bed, looking down at the strips of light from the Venetian, falling across the expensive hotel sheets and my own legs. Welcome to the high life, Billy boy! After a lifetime of trying I knew I’d finally made it. This wasn’t a flash in the pan. I was never going to have to pack my bags and go back home. I was never going to run out of good times! It was a goddam infernal miracle, that’s what it was!

And I realised too that it didn’t have to stop. I could stroll down to the Strip and make a little more, spend it, make it, and spend it again. I could be comfortable, spoiled and rich, like any millionaire of your choice. I didn’t have to go back to the gutter, and I didn’t have to break the bank either. I could leave Castro stewing in his pot and walk away. Why should I care about him anyway? Let him bar me out, there were other casinos, other owners. There wasn’t a debt now I couldn’t pay. I could make it up with Alice, sweep her off her feet and into the high life, get her back. We could live the comfortable life, settle down, have kids. If I broke the bank I’d never play the Strip again, but I didn’t have to. Who cared if the Devil wanted a piece of Castro? He’d signed the same contract I had; let him get another fall guy!

Only … what gambler never dreamed of being that guy, the guy who turned the casino over its head, the guy who broke the rule that the house always wins? And this wasn’t just a dream, this was personal! Castro had laughed as his men had bundled me to the door, laughed at me! No one laughs at Billy the Kid! He’d be laughing on the other side of his face when his money was mine!

When my head started to clear I buzzed reception on the phone and told them to send me in a tailor, expensive as they liked, who could get me a new suit. And while they were at it, to send me up their best breakfast, with their prettiest maid, and a bottle of whatever the high rollers drunk. It was all costing a bomb, of course, but I didn’t bother. As long as I had a couple of thousand left over I knew I was sweet.

I walked out of that place that afternoon like I was walking on clouds. I had on a suit of green silk and snakeskin boots on my feet. I looked at my reflection in the mirror of a window and thought ‘Hot damn, Billy! You look sweet!”. I let those shiny new boots carry me up onto the Strip proper, towards the doors of the Majestic, and the Palace, and behind them, Castro’s Grand, with the lights still sparkling over the doors even in the glare of the afternoon sun. I knew I wasn’t ready for that place though, not yet. First I had to build a story, get the word on the street, let Castro hear that he’d made a mistake, that Billy the Kid was back, with money from somewhere, and spending it freely. I needed time to let Castro kick himself that I wasn’t spending in his joint, that I wouldn’t be on his floor when it all came crashing down and I lost it all, as I always did. Not this time Castro.

So I worked the other joints all that day and the next, winning big, spending big, even loosing big too, sometimes, to make it look convincing, and God did that hurt! I tried my luck at a few other games too, like Blackjack and Roulette, but it seemed the hustler’s gift only worked on the dice. Soon I had my old entourage back, the casino hostesses and the sharks, old friends like Stevie Mick; all flocking to the scent of money, eager to get a share before it was gone. Everywhere we went, then, I was safe in the middle of them, like a King surrounded by his courtiers.

Even with my magic touch it took me a while to get where I wanted; enough money that I needed to hire a man with a tux and shoulders like an ox to carry the case. Even on the Strip it takes a while to turn a couple of thousand into a couple of million, especially when you have to keep betting, and moving, and spending, till no one knows exactly how much you’ve got. It all seems like a blur now, a fever dream of gold and chrome and neon lights flashing in the hot summer blackness. I remember Stevie Mick in mid air, arms whirling as he threw himself into a rooftop pool, and Lauren or Carrie or Jean-Anne, giggling and fawning at my side as I gave the waiter a hundred dollar tip for a glass of water. And always the buzz, the gambler’s high, burning through me like wildfire.

Till finally, on Saturday, today, I knew I was ready. We were in the Palace, I think, the lot of us. The girls were cheering as Stevie Mick blew a stack of borrowed chips at the craps table, whooping and laughing at yet another bum dice roll. Then I raised my voice and said “Come on people, we’re moving, we’re going to the Grand.”

Stevie Mick said “I heard Boss Castro had you barred from the Grand Billy?”

I gave him a shrug of the silk jacket that said it all. “Ain’t no one gonna bar me now Mickey. Castro will be kissin the ground I walk on just to have me in there.”

“But Billy,” he protested, “Why do you want to go in there anyway? Castro ain’t got nothing this place don’t. He don’t deserve your money Billy, just forget about him.”

I got angry then, and told him that no one was going to tell me what to do not, not Castro, not him. “Castro made me look stupid Mickey!” I shouted , “Castro called me a looser! No one calls Billy the Kid a loser! I’m gonna go over there and fucking collect, Mickey! You hear me?”

“Sure thing Billy!” He was all smiles then. “Sure, lets go.”
So here I am in the Grand, in Castro’s place, and it all comes down to this. I blew in here like the King of fucking England, with the busboys running to open the doors for me! Rags to riches in three days, where else but the Strip I ask you? After all that its no surprise the goons at the gate didn’t say a word as I brushed through, just stood aside and showed me to the floor. “Drinks Mr Smith?” they said, and, “Chairs Mr Smith?” You should have seen the cashier’s face when I bought the chips, enough money to buy her, enough to make everybody sit up and take notice. Even Castro.

I know he was watching me. They must have told him the moment I breezed in through the door and started flashing that cash. Even if that wasn’t enough to make him sit up and take notice I know he did when I hit the tables and started to win, and win, and win. I can almost feel his face, glued to the monitors, up there in his office, watching me win and win, and laugh. I’m sure he had every one of his security men with their cameras on my hands, trying to work out how I was doing it. No such luck Castro, I laughed to myself, as they changed the dice, and changed the croupiers, and changed the tables. No such luck. Whatch’a going to do Castro? Kick me out, cash me up? And you must be wondering, do we have the funds? How much has he won? Should we wait till he looses it?

Till finally, I am on the top table, the high rollers table, playing three dice craps, and I know, there’s no way he can let me go any further. He must be calling his floor manager right now, ordering him to shut the table, to shut me down before I can break the bank, and I think ‘This is it Billy’, so I push the chips out there, half my stack, more, and I loose it all. I rack it out on number ten, and nine, and eleven, and evens, spread around, safe as houses, and think to myself as the dice are falling ‘give me a seven’, and they do.

You can almost feel the shock as the croupier rakes it in, rippling through the crowd. They’ve been watching the golden boy, living the dream in glorious Technicolor, and suddenly its over. “Jesus Fucking Christ!” Stevie breathes into the silence, “That must have been five million dollars in chips, six million, I can’t even count it Boss!” All around me the entourage is falling in on itself, jostling, talking, standing in shock! Stevie Mick’s still babbling on, but I don’t even listen, instead I say, loud enough that everyone can hear me “Well heck! Lady Luck must have felt that was a little mean. What say we raise the limit?”

There was an explosion of noise, whoops and swearing from every side. The croupier looked like he’s going to fall out of his seat as he stammers “Raise the limit?!” His voice broke on the last word, squeaking, and he shuts up gratefully as his manager pushes through to his shoulder and takes over. “Sure,” I said, “I still got a whole lot of chips here. I’m not out of luck yet. You tell your boss, you tell Castro, I want to raise the limit, I want to bet it all on one roll!”

I sat back to admire the commotion thinking, what are you going to do now Castro? You must have been wiping your face in relief a moment ago, laughing to your cronies, knowing you were safe and out of it all in one go, and now I want to raise the limit? You’ve made your losses back, you know you’re safe, there’s no need, but you know my luck has run out too. You know my streak is over and you can see a fortune sitting right there in front of me, ready for the taking. You can see my eyes on your screen, you know I’m a loser, you know I’m crazy. Go on! Go on! Take the deal!

Down on the floor the manager consulted with his walkie-talkie, listened, nodded, and said “The Boss says yes. Take your throw, no limit.” And he smirked, because he knows a loser when he sees one.

The crowd went wild, and it was a moment before the croupier, sweat staining his uniform, managed to push his way out through the crowd, following in the wake of the floor manager, to let a new croupier, with new chips and, of course, new dice, take his place. Everyone in the place was watching me now. Stevie Mick, the croupier, the manager, the crowd; even the slot ladies were turned half round on their stools, cups full of quarters clutched to their chests, torn for a moment between the glittering reels and the shouting and cheers. And Castro too, I’m sure, was glued to his screens.

Without hesitation I pushed all the chips out on the table, five to one, and won! Pushed them out again and won again. Everything I’d lost I’d made back on the first throw, now it was new ground, no limits ground. On every side the crowd fell silent, as the whisper ran through they and they realised what was happening. This was it. I’d won and won again, no one had ever seen so many chips. They knew I could do it, was going to do it, I was going to break the casino! All of a sudden they broke out, cheering, whistling, clapping, and then the rising chant, even from people whop had never seen me before; “Billy! Billy! Billy!”

With trembling hands I pushed the whole stack of chips out on the table, towards the big numbers. I could see the floor manager trying to push is way back to the table out of the corner of my eye, shouting something that no one could hear over the noise of the crowd. Any croupier with a brain in his head would have hesitated then, would have stalled at least until someone could get there and call this off, but this one just said “Place your bets” so I shoved out the chips and snatched up the dice before anyone could tell me different.

And I looked at the table for the number I had to roll, saw it at the very same moment that the croupier drawled out of the darkness, “All the sixes, lucky eighteen!”

So here I am now, with the dice cold in my clenched fist, and a simple choice. Roll an eighteen and win the game, or roll something else and keep my soul. This was the big score. Roll an eighteen now and no one will ever forget me. I’ll be Billy the kid, the legend, the man who broke the Grand, the man who walked in poor and walked out owning the casino. No one will ever forget me! Fuck Castro, fuck the Strip, fuck every man who ever called William Smith a loser!

And the other way? Then I’d be just another loser. Castro would have been right! I’d walk out alone and he’d sit back in his chair, smug as shit, thinking about all the money I’d just made him! I look up and realise that everything has vanished around me. The cheering crowd have faded to a murmur, the only thing I can clearly see is the black baize of the table and the huge stack of chips, such a stack of chips! Even the croupier has half faded into the shadows, waiting for the throw.

I mean, what would you do?

Without a thought I open my hand and the dice arc out into the light, glittering in the bright light, spinning down onto the darkness of the table, bouncing and coming to rest; and then there is just me, and the table, and the dice … and the devil for a croupier

Tales From Earth:Dicing With the Devil

2005-12-13T23:09:47Z

Hituro:

== Dicing with the Devil ==

The dice are cold in my clenched fist, three of them together. I can feel their rounded corners biting into my flesh, and in my mind’s eye I can see them; red and glittering like rubies, with white pips set into their glossy faces. If I throw them now, they will clatter down and come to rest just so, all the pips upward, six and six and six again; the devil’s number.

Around me, in the bright lights and noisy darkness of the casino, I can hear the voices cheering, egging me on, shouting “Roll ‘em! Roll ‘em!” This is the day, the hour, the minute I have lived my life for, the day I can take my revenge.

One, two, three … I shake the dice back and forth in my fist, staring at the black baize of the table in front of me. Staring at the white lines and the red numbers, at the heaps of chips, at the one great heap of chips, right there on the number eighteen. One roll away from victory, one roll away from fortune, one roll away from breaking Castro and his God dam casino for ever. And all I have to do is roll an eighteen.

Only if I do, my soul will be the price.

*

Lights flash in my mind’s eye, drawing me back three days, three long days, into the past. For a moment the faces of the crowd in the dark, the bright green of the baize, the heat of the light blazing down on me and the shadowy croupier, all go spiralling away like a tunnel; taking me away from the moment back to the table, in the Blue Lagoon bar that Wednesday night.

I was drinking away my last rotten ten dollars in gulps of cheap tequila, fingering the last few coins in one hand and a glass in the other. Across the bar, in the window over the road, the blue neon buzzed on and off intermittently, like a bug catcher full of flies. I watched the bright lights of the traffic outside, swishing past in the hot summer rain, out towards the lake, and the backs of the men and women at the bar, drowning their thoughts in liquor.

I didn’t really take in any of it. All I could hear was Castro’s voice, drawling over the polished expanse of his desk while his two oafs held me down in the chair with one heavy hand on my shoulder. “Please please,” I begged, “Give me another chance Mr Castro sir, I’ll make it back, I know I can. All I need is one lucky day, one lucky day sir!” Pathetic.

And then Castro’s heavy tones, “No it won’t do Billy boy, no it won’t do at all. There ain’t no more credit for you. Your all bum out of it Billy boy, there’s not a cent left for you. You’re a loser Billy, you lost it all.” He shook his head. “There’s no place for you here any more.”

Desperately I fumbled at the papers I’d brought with me. “No look Mr Castro, I’ve got the deeds to my house, the papers for my car, you can have ‘em, everything, just let me play!” I stumbled on the words, but Castro only shook his head sadly, knowing as well as I did that the car had been towed already, and that the house had gone to Alice for alimony.

“Boys,” he said with a sigh, “Show Billy out … and don’t let him back in.”

So there I was in the Blue Lagoon the next night, with my last ten dollars in a glass in front of me and all the rest of my belongings in a case at my feet. The day before was lost in a haze of drink and anger. I can just recall trying to break my way in through the line of bouncers at the casino door, and being thrown back, down the steps, into the rain. Tumbling over and over into the gutter; lying there until I crawled off to find a bottle to drown myself in.

I was broken out of my reverie by the realisation that someone had just spoken to me. I looked up and saw a man standing over the table, dapper and slick as you like. His black hair was gelled back over his scalp, leaving a pair of arching pencil eyebrows over dark eyes. He had a little moustache, like a French waiter, and an elegant angular chin. His suit was all red silk and black, with shiny buttons and creases you could cut yourself on. I took for a pimp or a hustler, a professional card shark just like me … only still in the big time.

“William Smith?” the hustler asked in a smooth south-western accent. His voice was like sweet molasses, slow and smooth and black as night. I peered up from under bleary brows and gruffed out “Who wants to know? You come collecting debts? ‘Cause I ain’t got a thing more than what I’m wearin’ here.” I tried for a chuckle and ended up coughing instead.

“No no Mr Smith,” the hustler replied, “I’ve come with an offer for you, an offer you won’t want to refuse.”

I leant back and pushed the other chair out from the table with one foot. “Well in that case, call me Billy.”

The hustler sat down at the second chair, his red suit rustling with the whisper of silk as he settled down. He called over a waitress to order a Hellfire, and then rested his elbows on the table top, swirling the drink in one long pale hand. “A Hellfire eh?” I said at last, when the silence started to drag, “That’s a new one on me, mister ….” I let the pause ask the question.

“You can call me Mr Mephistopheles.” He smiled “And it’s a Prairie Fire with a dash of Hot Damn thrown in; tequila, tabasco and cinnamon sauce.”

I raised one eyebrow and put by empty glass back on the table. “Mr Mephistopheles eh? Like the devil in the comic?”

The hustler leaned forward and fixed me with his dancing black eyes. “Oh exactly like the devil mister Billy, exactly like him.”

I felt suddenly more sober and thought to myself ‘look out, it’s a crazy one’. I felt down for the bag at my feet and prepared to leave, but the hustler, Mr Mephistopheles, lifted up a hand and flashed a fifty to catch the waitress’ eye. “Let me buy you a drink at least” he said in a reasonable tone, and, over his shoulder, “A glass of your most expensive for my friend, and keep it coming!” I let go of my bag and sank back into my seat. Crazy, but crazy with money. “Sure thing boss.” I smiled my best smile and took the drink when it came, feeling it warm between my hands. “Gotta hand it to a guy who’ll spare a drink for a gambler down on his luck.”

The hustler smiled a smile full of perfect white teeth and asked “How would you like it if I could turn that luck around?” Something about the tone of his voice caught me with the glass half way to my lips. I knew he had some crazy plan for me, some gambler’s get rich quick scheme, and damn me if I didn’t want to hear it anyway. I was halfway to crazy town myself, and all the way to the gutter. Suddenly there was only me and him in that place, sitting where the neon light buzzed and the rain drummed. The rest of the Blue Lagoon blurred out in the corners of my vision, and all I could see was that white smile gleaming under a curve of cruel lips and neat black hair.

His lips parted and he said “What is it that you want the most, right now.”

Without even knowing exactly why I found myself saying “Revenge. What I really want is revenge. I want to crush that fucking Castro and his fucking casino. I want to go in there and bust the house, bust it wide open! I want to take the dice in my hands and take everything he has, every penny on the million to one shot, on the final roll!” The words all came pouring out in a rush, till I took a gulp of the tequila to stop them, and I realised dimly that I was trembling from head to toe.

“And what would you say,” asked Mr Mephistopheles, “If I told you I could give you just that?”

I let out the breath I was holding with a throaty chuckle. “I’d say where do I sign mister.” I snorted. “But it ain’t going to happen, is it? Must be a hundred bums like me up and down the Strip who dream the same thing. Break the bank, bust the casino, roll it out with more money than you can carry. I wish!” I waited for him to laugh or go back to his drink, but his perfect smile never wavered.

“No need to wish,” the hustler said, “I’m the devil after all Billy boy, all you need to do is sign on the dotted line.” With a flourish of his left hand he produced a sheet of paper from somewhere and slapped it down on the table in front of me, like a stage magician saying ‘here’s your card!’. With his right hand he slipped a red pen from his breast pocket and laid on the paper, pushing both of them towards me across the table. I reached out and slid it closer. There was a logo I didn’t recognise at the top of the page, and under it ‘Delaney Entertainment and Vanity Institute Limited’, and then a paragraph of legal jumbo starting ‘I the undersigned do hereby agree to the following terms and conditions …’. A contract. My eyes skipped to the end and took in the last words, “… at the following cost to myself, my soul.”

I jerked back in my chair, away from the contract and him. What the hell! It really was a devil’s contract, a contract for my soul! The only thought in my head was getting out of there, away from him, but then a warm hand closed on mine, pressing something into my clammy palm, something hard, and square, and smooth. Dice. I tried to shake my hand free, but the hustler held me, half out of his own chair, folding my fingers around the dice. “Look what I’m offering you Billy boy!” he purred, “Just roll ‘em and see.”

I thought, what the hell, but I made to roll them anyway, if only to get his hand off mine, but he stopped me, gripping my sweating fist with fingers as strong as steel. “Tell me first,” he said, “What are you going to roll?”

“How the hell should I know!” I snapped, but his perfect smile never wavered. “Just tell me Billy boy.”

I plucked a number from the air, snarling “Snake eyes” as I tried to yank my hand from his grip, and suddenly I was free and the dice were free too, tumbling from my hand, clattering across the table top, till they bounced off the devil’s glass and came to rest, pips upwards, one and one; snake eyes.

“Well I’ll be …”

I looked back at the hustler, who was smiling at me over the rim of his glass again, and shook off the chill that danced up my spine. “Its just co-incidence,” I muttered, “It could happen to anyone!” The hustler never said a thing, but I could read his silence loud as words, it said, well pick ‘em up and try again. My hand hesitated for a moment, hovering over the dice, and then I grabbed them and tossed them on the table picking ‘six’ out of the air as I let them fly. Five and one.

I snatched them back and threw them again, and again, a different number each time, and always just the one I wanted! The third time I felt that old familiar feeling come rushing up over me, like I’m on the crest of the wave and no one can stop me! Better than booze, better than sex; you’re a winner again Billy boy!

I sank back down in my chair, the dice still in my hand, and stared at the light that reflected off the hustler’s ice as he tilted the cubes round and round the circle of his empty glass. “How’d you …” I started, “How’d I? What the heck are these dice made of?”

The hustler smiled his perfect smile and told me it wasn’t the dice it was me. All I had to do was sign on the dotted line and the power would be mine. Heck, I didn’t even need to sign in blood! Just as soon as I put my scrawl to the contract I could walk out of the Strip a made man. I could break any game in town. I could break Castro!

I picked up the contract again and read it through, twice, trying to concentrate on the words, and not the voice in the back of my head clamouring for me to sign already and go show old man Castro that no one throws Billy the kid out of their casino. “So let me get this straight. I sign this bit of paper and you give me the power to always throw the winning hand. And all you want in return is my soul but only, only, if I throw an eighteen? Only then?”

He smiled and shrugged, his hands wide open. “Well what can I do,” he chuckled, “It is the devil’s number, after all.”

“But if I sign this contract I’ll never roll a number I don’t want to roll! I’ll never toss an eighteen if I don’t want too, never!”

“You got me, its true. That’s the deal I’m offering you.”

“But why?” I took a swig of the tequila, feeling the warm fire flood through my already burning veins, like a live wire. “I wasn’t born yesterday Mr M, I know a thing or too. Ain’t no way in Hell you gonna offer me a sweet ass deal like that unless you got an angle for yourself, ain’t no way. So what’s in it for you? What’s the catch?”

The hustler laughed and slapped the table top, sending the fancy red pen rolling across the contract till I caught it. “Well sure enough that’s true Billy boy,” he said, “I guess I can’t pull the wool over your eyes. The truth is this. You hate Miguel fucking Castro, well so do I!” He leaned across the table, resting his silk covered elbows on the polished wood and went on. “I’ve got interests in this town, Billy boy, I’ve got arrangements!” I nodded to myself, yeah, the Devil owns the Strip, go figure. “I’ve made deals with people, and I expect my deals to be kept, call it a thing with me, its just the way I am. Nobody pulls a fast one on Mr Mephistopheles. Nobody except Miguel Castro.” I had to laugh at that. If anyone in this town was going to cheat the devil it would be him.

“So you understand now? Yeah, I know you do Billy. You’ve got your reasons to want Castro taken down, well so do I. You and I got a common enemy Billy, and that makes us friends. What’s a million dollars or a no-catch deal between friends, Billy?”

A million dollars, he had me there. “Nothing,” I said, “Nothing.”

So I took the pen and signed.

*

I didn’t see Mr Mephistopheles again after that, I didn’t need to. I’d crept into the Blue Lagoon a bum and I walked out of there a prince of the world, clutching those dice in my hand and knowing nothing, nothing, was going to stop me. And there they are now, the dice, still there in my hands, rattling as I shake them over the black expanse of the table. One roll away from victory, one more roll that will break the bank, crack the casino, thrown Castro out on the street, into the rain, on his fucking ass.

And all I need is an eighteen. An eighteen to win it all.

Behind me I can feel bodies craning to look over my shoulder, to see the table in front of me. Carrie, Lauren, Stevie Mick, they all know I can do it, they all know its going to break the bank, it’s a done deal. They’ve been following me all the way these past few days, and what a roller coaster ride its been for them, and now, here we are, the final throw of the dice.

*

Back then, on Wednesday night in the rain, I stood outside the door of the Blue Lagoon and knew I needed a plan. Half of me was all for rushing to Castro’s place as fast as my legs could carry me, demanding to be let in, demanding to play, but the rest of me knew his boys would never let me in, it wouldn’t matter how lucky I was. I needed an angle, I needed a plan. I needed to make sure that no one would turn me away when I came calling, that no one would close my table before the final throw. For a moment I stood there in the warm western rain, watching the limousines roll past in the night, and I realised I knew just what to do.

I needed one of those limousines. I needed a sharp suit like the hustler’s. I needed enough money and class that no one going to turn me away from a casino door, not even Castro’s goons, and I needed it by Saturday night, when the cage was full, when the week’s winnings were about to be banked. When I could break the casino.

I started small. Walking away from the Blue Lagoon I picked a small casino, one where they didn’t know my face, and where a day’s worth of stubble and the stink of booze wasn’t a barrier to entry. All I had was a few dollar bills and a pocket full of change, but if the Devil’s gift wasn’t all in my head that was sure to be enough.

Inside the casino I stopped a moment on the entrance to the game floor and drank in the smell of money. I could hear coins clattering in the slot machine rows, and the staccato rattle of the roulette balls. I still had the hustler’s dice in my pocket and I fingered them now, thinking, Lady Luck, you got a date with me tonight! I paced the floor looking for a low stakes game of craps. It wasn’t easy, guys with just a few bucks usually head for the slot machines, but it was a small casino filled with small time hustlers and weekend gamblers; I took ‘em all.

The first time, with my pitiful few chips all heaped safely on the number ten, I still wasn’t quite sure this was going to work. My stomach was rumbling, and those chips could buy me a meal at least, but a meal wasn’t going to get me revenge. Then, when my hand closed on the cold cubes of the casino dice, I knew, I knew it was going to work. Lucky Ten, I called it in my head, and down they went along the table. Five and Five.

After that I was like a man possessed. I worked that joint for all it was worth, going up the tables. First bucks, then tens, then hundreds, then thousands. Man I was on fire! By the time I ran out of steam, surrounded by brand new friends and drunk on complimentary booze, I had a pile of chips I struggled to get to the cage. I dropped them all in the tray, grinning at the heap of plastic, and drawled “Get me a room, all the works!”

Needless to say I woke late the next day, with a pounding headache that still couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. I took a swig of aqua seltzer from the mini-bar and sank back on the rumpled bed, looking down at the strips of light from the Venetian, falling across the expensive hotel sheets and my own legs. Welcome to the high life, Billy boy! After a lifetime of trying I knew I’d finally made it. This wasn’t a flash in the pan. I was never going to have to pack my bags and go back home. I was never going to run out of good times! It was a goddam infernal miracle, that’s what it was!

And I realised too that it didn’t have to stop. I could stroll down to the Strip and make a little more, spend it, make it, and spend it again. I could be comfortable, spoiled and rich, like any millionaire of your choice. I didn’t have to go back to the gutter, and I didn’t have to break the bank either. I could leave Castro stewing in his pot and walk away. Why should I care about him anyway? Let him bar me out, there were other casinos, other owners. There wasn’t a debt now I couldn’t pay. I could make it up with Alice, sweep her off her feet and into the high life, get her back. We could live the comfortable life, settle down, have kids. If I broke the bank I’d never play the Strip again, but I didn’t have to. Who cared if the Devil wanted a piece of Castro? He’d signed the same contract I had; let him get another fall guy!

Only … what gambler never dreamed of being that guy, the guy who turned the casino over its head, the guy who broke the rule that the house always wins? And this wasn’t just a dream, this was personal! Castro had laughed as his men had bundled me to the door, laughed at me! No one laughs at Billy the Kid! He’d be laughing on the other side of his face when his money was mine!

When my head started to clear I buzzed reception on the phone and told them to send me in a tailor, expensive as they liked, who could get me a new suit. And while they were at it, to send me up their best breakfast, with their prettiest maid, and a bottle of whatever the high rollers drunk. It was all costing a bomb, of course, but I didn’t bother. As long as I had a couple of thousand left over I knew I was sweet.

I walked out of that place that afternoon like I was walking on clouds. I had on a suit of green silk and snakeskin boots on my feet. I looked at my reflection in the mirror of a window and thought ‘Hot damn, Billy! You look sweet!”. I let those shiny new boots carry me up onto the Strip proper, towards the doors of the Majestic, and the Palace, and behind them, Castro’s Grand, with the lights still sparkling over the doors even in the glare of the afternoon sun. I knew I wasn’t ready for that place though, not yet. First I had to build a story, get the word on the street, let Castro hear that he’d made a mistake, that Billy the Kid was back, with money from somewhere, and spending it freely. I needed time to let Castro kick himself that I wasn’t spending in his joint, that I wouldn’t be on his floor when it all came crashing down and I lost it all, as I always did. Not this time Castro.

So I worked the other joints all that day and the next, winning big, spending big, even loosing big too, sometimes, to make it look convincing, and God did that hurt! I tried my luck at a few other games too, like Blackjack and Roulette, but it seemed the hustler’s gift only worked on the dice. Soon I had my old entourage back, the casino hostesses and the sharks, old friends like Stevie Mick; all flocking to the scent of money, eager to get a share before it was gone. Everywhere we went, then, I was safe in the middle of them, like a King surrounded by his courtiers.

Even with my magic touch it took me a while to get where I wanted; enough money that I needed to hire a man with a tux and shoulders like an ox to carry the case. Even on the Strip it takes a while to turn a couple of thousand into a couple of million, especially when you have to keep betting, and moving, and spending, till no one knows exactly how much you’ve got. It all seems like a blur now, a fever dream of gold and chrome and neon lights flashing in the hot summer blackness. I remember Stevie Mick in mid air, arms whirling as he threw himself into a rooftop pool, and Lauren or Carrie or Jean-Anne, giggling and fawning at my side as I gave the waiter a hundred dollar tip for a glass of water. And always the buzz, the gambler’s high, burning through me like wildfire.

Till finally, on Saturday, today, I knew I was ready. We were in the Palace, I think, the lot of us. The girls were cheering as Stevie Mick blew a stack of borrowed chips at the craps table, whooping and laughing at yet another bum dice roll. Then I raised my voice and said “Come on people, we’re moving, we’re going to the Grand.”

Stevie Mick said “I heard Boss Castro had you barred from the Grand Billy?”

I gave him a shrug of the silk jacket that said it all. “Ain’t no one gonna bar me now Mickey. Castro will be kissin the ground I walk on just to have me in there.”

“But Billy,” he protested, “Why do you want to go in there anyway? Castro ain’t got nothing this place don’t. He don’t deserve your money Billy, just forget about him.”

I got angry then, and told him that no one was going to tell me what to do not, not Castro, not him. “Castro made me look stupid Mickey!” I shouted , “Castro called me a looser! No one calls Billy the Kid a loser! I’m gonna go over there and fucking collect, Mickey! You hear me?”

“Sure thing Billy!” He was all smiles then. “Sure, lets go.”
So here I am in the Grand, in Castro’s place, and it all comes down to this. I blew in here like the King of fucking England, with the busboys running to open the doors for me! Rags to riches in three days, where else but the Strip I ask you? After all that its no surprise the goons at the gate didn’t say a word as I brushed through, just stood aside and showed me to the floor. “Drinks Mr Smith?” they said, and, “Chairs Mr Smith?” You should have seen the cashier’s face when I bought the chips, enough money to buy her, enough to make everybody sit up and take notice. Even Castro.

I know he was watching me. They must have told him the moment I breezed in through the door and started flashing that cash. Even if that wasn’t enough to make him sit up and take notice I know he did when I hit the tables and started to win, and win, and win. I can almost feel his face, glued to the monitors, up there in his office, watching me win and win, and laugh. I’m sure he had every one of his security men with their cameras on my hands, trying to work out how I was doing it. No such luck Castro, I laughed to myself, as they changed the dice, and changed the croupiers, and changed the tables. No such luck. Whatch’a going to do Castro? Kick me out, cash me up? And you must be wondering, do we have the funds? How much has he won? Should we wait till he looses it?

Till finally, I am on the top table, the high rollers table, playing three dice craps, and I know, there’s no way he can let me go any further. He must be calling his floor manager right now, ordering him to shut the table, to shut me down before I can break the bank, and I think ‘This is it Billy’, so I push the chips out there, half my stack, more, and I loose it all. I rack it out on number ten, and nine, and eleven, and evens, spread around, safe as houses, and think to myself as the dice are falling ‘give me a seven’, and they do.

You can almost feel the shock as the croupier rakes it in, rippling through the crowd. They’ve been watching the golden boy, living the dream in glorious Technicolor, and suddenly its over. “Jesus Fucking Christ!” Stevie breathes into the silence, “That must have been five million dollars in chips, six million, I can’t even count it Boss!” All around me the entourage is falling in on itself, jostling, talking, standing in shock! Stevie Mick’s still babbling on, but I don’t even listen, instead I say, loud enough that everyone can hear me “Well heck! Lady Luck must have felt that was a little mean. What say we raise the limit?”

There was an explosion of noise, whoops and swearing from every side. The croupier looked like he’s going to fall out of his seat as he stammers “Raise the limit?!” His voice broke on the last word, squeaking, and he shuts up gratefully as his manager pushes through to his shoulder and takes over. “Sure,” I said, “I still got a whole lot of chips here. I’m not out of luck yet. You tell your boss, you tell Castro, I want to raise the limit, I want to bet it all on one roll!”

I sat back to admire the commotion thinking, what are you going to do now Castro? You must have been wiping your face in relief a moment ago, laughing to your cronies, knowing you were safe and out of it all in one go, and now I want to raise the limit? You’ve made your losses back, you know you’re safe, there’s no need, but you know my luck has run out too. You know my streak is over and you can see a fortune sitting right there in front of me, ready for the taking. You can see my eyes on your screen, you know I’m a loser, you know I’m crazy. Go on! Go on! Take the deal!

Down on the floor the manager consulted with his walkie-talkie, listened, nodded, and said “The Boss says yes. Take your throw, no limit.” And he smirked, because he knows a loser when he sees one.

The crowd went wild, and it was a moment before the croupier, sweat staining his uniform, managed to push his way out through the crowd, following in the wake of the floor manager, to let a new croupier, with new chips and, of course, new dice, take his place. Everyone in the place was watching me now. Stevie Mick, the croupier, the manager, the crowd; even the slot ladies were turned half round on their stools, cups full of quarters clutched to their chests, torn for a moment between the glittering reels and the shouting and cheers. And Castro too, I’m sure, was glued to his screens.

Without hesitation I pushed all the chips out on the table, five to one, and won! Pushed them out again and won again. Everything I’d lost I’d made back on the first throw, now it was new ground, no limits ground. On every side the crowd fell silent, as the whisper ran through they and they realised what was happening. This was it. I’d won and won again, no one had ever seen so many chips. They knew I could do it, was going to do it, I was going to break the casino! All of a sudden they broke out, cheering, whistling, clapping, and then the rising chant, even from people whop had never seen me before; “Billy! Billy! Billy!”

With trembling hands I pushed the whole stack of chips out on the table, towards the big numbers. I could see the floor manager trying to push is way back to the table out of the corner of my eye, shouting something that no one could hear over the noise of the crowd. Any croupier with a brain in his head would have hesitated then, would have stalled at least until someone could get there and call this off, but this one just said “Place your bets” so I shoved out the chips and snatched up the dice before anyone could tell me different.

And I looked at the table for the number I had to roll, saw it at the very same moment that the croupier drawled out of the darkness, “All the sixes, lucky eighteen!”

So here I am now, with the dice cold in my clenched fist, and a simple choice. Roll an eighteen and win the game, or roll something else and keep my soul. This was the big score. Roll an eighteen now and no one will ever forget me. I’ll be Billy the kid, the legend, the man who broke the Grand, the man who walked in poor and walked out owning the casino. No one will ever forget me! Fuck Castro, fuck the Strip, fuck every man who ever called William Smith a loser!

And the other way? Then I’d be just another loser. Castro would have been right! I’d walk out alone and he’d sit back in his chair, smug as shit, thinking about all the money I’d just made him! I look up and realise that everything has vanished around me. The cheering crowd have faded to a murmur, the only thing I can clearly see is the black baize of the table and the huge stack of chips, such a stack of chips! Even the croupier has half faded into the shadows, waiting for the throw.

I mean, what would you do?

Without a thought I open my hand and the dice arc out into the light, glittering in the bright light, spinning down onto the darkness of the table, bouncing and coming to rest; and then there is just me, and the table, and the dice … and the devil for a croupier

Tales From Earth

2005-12-13T16:48:23Z

Hituro: /* Index of articles */

==General==

*[[Violet Kiteway]] wants us to write a book for her.
*She plans to have it published by [[Seaside Press]].
*Once it's published, she can use her credentials as a published author to get access to the diary of [[Anthony Granier]]

===References===
*article, 05-DEC-05 "[[Seaside Press|Seaside]] Announces Plan to Release [[Tales From Earth|Earth Anthology]]" ([http://www.perplexcitysentinel.com/archives/2005/12/seaside_announc.html link])

==Requirements==
*<BIG><BIG>'''Deadline For Entries Is December 16th!!'''</BIG></BIG>
*Entries should be themed: '''Games'''
*Use this page as an index of other pages.
**For example, if Sente were to write a piece on his family, he might format it like so:
'''[[Tales From Earth:Kiteway Crazies]] - [[User:Sente]] 28-NOV-05, 5000 words'''
A short treatise on my lunatic daughters, both of whom cavort with strangers.

*'''Also note: Authors should collect their blurbs here:'''
**'''[[Tales From Earth:Authors]]'''

--------------------------

==Index of articles==

'''[[Tales From Earth:Dicing With the Devil]] - [[User:Hituro]] 13-DEC-05, 5832 words Editor:?'''
A Gambler down on his luck makes a deal with the devil.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Which is Better]] - [[User:Ryan Andrew]] 13-DEC-05, 701 words Editor:Centipede'''
Brains vs Brawn.

'''[[Tales From Earth:The Assignment]] - [[User:Enigmaster]] 29-NOV-05, 1337 words (:D) Editor:Centipede'''
A short story, illustrating one of the many pressures of student life.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Coffee Addiction]] - [[User:Coxtin]] 29-NOV-05, 1081 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
A NON_AUTOBIOGRAHPICAL story about a man who loves coffee.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Carnival of Monsters]] - [[User:MikeyJ]] 07-DEC-05, 192 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
An excuse to insult people.

'''[http://forums.unfiction.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=13305 Tales From Earth:Collaborative Effort] - The Unfiction Community 6,800+ words Editor:Scott'''
''(A work in progress - A proper title is to be deteremined.)''
This story is being written and assembled by a volunteer collection of forumers.
''[[Tales From Earth:Collaborative]] -- This is presently work-space. The final product is some way off.''

'''[[Tales From Earth:The Games We Play]] - [[User:Duckiemonster]] 11-DEC-05, 450 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
A chance encounter

'''[[Tales From Earth:Draco Venatio]] - [[User:Scott]] 01-DEC-05, 2100+ words Editor:Centipede'''
Dragons play games, the likes of which no man has any business playing.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Expedition]] - [[User:Forg]] 29-NOV-05, 1290 words Editor:Centipede'''
Another day comes, another day goes...

'''[[Tales From Earth:Games-Sports-Ultimate Frisbee]] - [[User:kobeyu]] and ??? 01-DEC-05, 614 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
''(Abandoned -- feel free to finish it - A work in progress)''
A description of one of Earth's newer sports.

'''[[Tales From Earth:ilovenatalie.exe]] - [[User:GasparLewis]] 2-DEC-05, 1300 words and a big pile of numbers Editor:Centipede'''
William's girlfriend is missing, and somebody planned it.
Can he solve his way to her rescue? Or rather... ''can you?''

'''[[Tales From Earth:Kabuki Belly Dancer]] - [[User:Mokey F. Rock]] 08-DEC-05, 2584 words Editor:Centipede'''
A short story of escaping reality.

'''[[Tales From Earth:DVD Games]] - [[User:MagikGuy]] 9-DEC-05, 1600 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
A review of the Harry Potter 'Scene it?' DVD game.

'''[[Tales From Earth:The London 2012 Olympic Bid]] - [[User:Frankie Roberto]] 3-DEC-05, 1000 words Editor:Centipede'''
An article on London's successful 2012 Olympic Bid.
''(comments, feedback and proof-reading welcome)''

'''[[Tales From Earth:Moonbeam]] - [[User:Cronogenesis]] 06-DEC-05, 2,087 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
A stranger a letter and an ancient coin... A rewriting of part one an old series I once wrote and did noting with.

'''[[Tales From Earth: The night]] - [[User:Specterz]] 29-NOV-05, 500 words Editor:Centipede'''
A little rant about nights on Earth.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Number Cruncher]] - [[User:Cronogenesis]] 07-DEC-05, 0 words, lots of 0's and 1's (Not really)Edited by SledgeCallier'''
A nice little binary puzzle I quickly wrote. The code should work but feel free to check it.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Perplex City D20 Module]] - [[User:Scott]] 01-DEC-05, 0 words'''
''(A work in progress)''
A role playing game module based in Perplex City.

'''[[Tales From Earth:peta]] - [[User:Coxtin]] 29-NOV-05, 1225 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
A story in which a monkey gives relationship advice which is unwelcome

'''[[Tales From Earth:people games]] - [[User:Hituro]] 11-DEC-05, 2000 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
Playing games with People

'''[[Tales From Earth:Ramblerhymes I and II]] - [[User:GasparLewis]] 29-NOV-05, 1000+ words Editor:Centipede'''
A free-form, semi-poignant tirade about nothing... in a good way.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Reality? Virtually!]] - [[User:Sentinel]] 28-NOV-05, 2581 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
A discussion of the ever blurring boundaries between reality and the world of gaming.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Spay's Invaders]] - [[User:Gibbet]] 09-DEC-05, 1331 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
This is not a game!

'''[[Tales From Earth:Tower of Cards]] - [[User:Gibbet]] 04-DEC-05, 1242 words Editor:Centipede'''
A story of persistence to fulfill a lifelong dream.
''(Feedback will be welcomed)''

'''[[Tales From Earth:Tuberunning]] - [[User:ammonite]] 03-DEC-05, 866 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
London is a game. In many ways. This is about a few of them.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Where's My Meniscus and other time wasters]] - [[User:TheBozzball]] 02-DEC-05, 3186 words Editor:Centipede'''
A description of the games played by a group of people in a place.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Chanko-nabe]] - [[User:ammonite]] 09-DEC-05, 6583 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
A girl who fell in love with a sumo-wrestler.

'''[[Tales From Earth:The Rebel Pirate]] - [[User:Cronogenesis]] 11-DEC-05, 271 words Editor:SledgeCallier
Somebodys stolen the ships booty! But who is the culprit?

'''[[Tales From Earth:Pawn]] - [[User:Zaeil]] 11-DEC-05, Illustration
Lone pawn on a chessboard, watched by more powerful pieces. Black and white illustration.

'''[[Tales From Earth:Hide and Seek Peek]] - [[User:Zaeil]] 11-DEC-05, Illustration
Peeking while others hide. Black and white illustration.

'''[[Tales From Earth:To Epiphany and Beyond...!]] - [[User:fantasticalan]] 12-DEC-05, 847 words Editor:SledgeCallier'''
Fantastic Alan guides you through the Christmas Games Season here in the UK.

Tales From Earth:Dicing With the Devil

2005-12-13T16:46:47Z

Hituro: A gambler dices with the devil

Tales From Earth:Authors

2005-12-12T11:27:54Z

Hituro: /* Hituro */

Authors should write about a 50 word blurb for themselves. This can be just about anything at all. Who are you? what would you like the worlds to know about you? If you don't write one, someone may be inviteed to write something about you. *cackle* *cackle* *cackle*

''Note: I've started heading areas for everyone who has submitted an article. Just add water.''

[Edit] - I've added in the blurbs already forwarded to the editorial team. SledgeCallier

==Editors==
===Centipede===
===Scott===
Scott is an American, fFor which an apology seems appropriate. No sensible cause can be fFound fFor the queer lisp apparent in his writing, though sometimes gothic architecture is to blame. He is proud to drink plenty of hard liquor; He only smokes when on fFire, which as you can imagine is all the time. He has a bit of a fFastener fFetish, loves pirates, bad movies, and pi.

===SledgeCallier===
Having spent his formative years in rural Leicestershire, SledgeCallier was transplanted to Oxford in a failed attempt to absorb knowledge. Instead he found himself working as a Cartographer. After a few years of this Sledgecallier came to his senses and moved into an IT Helpdesk role from where he now hides his powers from the rest of the world.

==Authors==
===Ammonite===
===Coxtin===
Conceived with an unusual amount of purpose and vigour Chris Martin finally arrived into the world after a record six thousand nine hundred and seventy two week gestation period inside his surrogate mother-Daily Mail columnist Melanie Phillips. Standing tall at six foot nine he often strides around London parks mimicking Peter Crouch mimicking John Cleese mimicking Hitler. Attaching loaves of bread to his shoes, elbows and eyes, tourists are often shocked to see a tall man goose-stepping around Hyde park with Ducks, Swans and Chihuahua dogs biting at his flailing arms, legs and head. Academically the man appears to be inconstant however his main ambition when he sat his GCSEs was to spell out the name of his best friend, Adae, with his results. Although this was seen by the London School of Economics and Political Science to be a failure Chris could only see his results as a good thing and wondered if anyone was called Lseps. Frequently bored by his job he can often be found sitting in a second floor office in Blackfriars, in the city of London, making absurd claims about his life-he never tells people about this hobby though as Chris feels that no one would believe him. As far as hobbies go this crab ridden freak of man has few-however he does tie small children to famous buildings. He once tied up Jimmy Cranky to the Taj Mahal. He was greatly distressed to find that Jimmy was not a small child, but just a bit odd. Chris, aged nine, can be easily recognised because he has a head made out of corrugated iron, wood and apples.

===Cronogenesis===

Conogenesis (Jack smith) is a student/giant/pirate from Heanor, Derbyshire. Although living in this area, he is actually a citizen of the nation of Lovely, a small country in the middle of London boasting a population of 52,000. Cron has been searching for the Cube since the early days althought is usually ignored due to his mass speculation. He is best known for his poetry, rather than stories. Some of his better known pieces include "Weather" and "Mr. Moonlight". If you are looking for Cron you will usually find him listening to Viards 'The Silver City' or helping some stranger. He says hello, have a great day and may fortune smile upon you in the future :).

===Duckiemonster===
Duckiemonster is a medical student looking for something to fill the hole in her life left by the recent demise of a three-year relationship. She loves to write, play bass guitar and also runs knitting classes.

===Enigmaster===
===Frankie Roberto===
===Forg===
Forg comes from a small little village outside Loughborough in which he has just inhabited. Starting his first year of A levels and spends all of his life either at his wonderful girlfriends house, working or spending huge amount of times sitting here learning about the wonderful world of Perplex City. Being fairly new to the community he is just getting settled into the goings on however he's loving every minute and one day, we will find that cube! The rest of his wonderful life is spent eating sleeping and playing his guitar.

===GasparLewis===
===Gibbet===

Gibbet is very slow at writing things and therefore this section about him will be completed as soon he can think of some amusing things to say!

===Hituro===
Hituro is an electronic enigma, a personality created by an out of work web designer with too much time on his hands. When translated into the real world Hituro enjoys reading, writing, roleplaying, gaming and running large multi-player online games which take up entirely too much of his time!

===Josh Black===
===MagikGuy===
MagikGuy (Stefan Marseglia) falls under the Perplexian zodiac sign of "The Apple-Thief" and is currently studying A-Levels at his local Sixth Form in the areas of English Literature, French, General Studies, Information Communication Technology and Sociology. MagikGuy would like to aspire to become a Journalist when he is older and would like to study at Marmalejo College in Perplex City, the same place where Scarlett Kiteway is currently majoring in Journalism. MagikGuy has been a devoted member of the Perplex City phenomenon from early August 2005 and wishes to do his best in order to help out Perplexians by finding the whereabouts of The Receda Cube.

===MikeyJ===
===Mokey F. Rock===
Mokey belly dances and studies Japanese, which (sort of) accounts for her strange hybrid of the two cultures in her story. She believes in literature, the theatre, games, and all forms of healthy entertainment. When she isn't goofing off, Mokey writes and teaches English, which unfortunately does not mean she gets paid to talk about Shakespeare every waking moment -- just some of the time.

===Sentinel===
===Specterz===
My name is Erik Nusselder, aka specterz, and I'm from the Netherlands. I'm 21 years old, and am studying law school. My hobbies are music and tennis.
I'm quite new to the Cube Retrieval Team, but I've diligently read up on everything, and hope to assist in finding this thing!

'''Any chance of a quick rewrite? All the others are in third person apart from this one and it would look slightly out of place. -Cron'''

'''We have a couple of other articles written in teh first person perspective so should be ok. -SledgeCallier'''

===TheBozzball===

==The Unfiction Community==
The Unfiction Community is ....... ''someone cool should write this. Or else maybe borrow something fFrom the fForum help pages or something? Maybe spacebass would like to say some words?''