Sime~Gen Roleplaying on IRC: Snake River Dam Scenario
Episode #35: Punch Drunk (9/3/00)
Rifan sits on a log in front of his favorite "trin shop" (canopy stretched between trees, where bad trin can be obtained without having to look at any coworkers) and waits for his Donor to meet him for their shift.
Rifan has been at the Dam site for 1 month, and is only just starting to become numbed to the awfulness of it all.
Rifan thinks on the plus side, the change in scenery has temporarily gotten his wife into a more cheerful frame of mind.
Rifan hasn't had anything thrown at him since they arrived.
Rifan sips his tea, and grimaces. It tastes like twigs.
Rifan looks down, and realizes an actual twig has fallen from the tree over his head, into his tea.
Rifan fishes it out with the tip of a tentacle.
Rifan zlins about, wondering where his Donor is.
Rifan has only been assigned to Franses for a couple of days, and is already wondering if he should be assigned to the guy.
Rifan isn't sure they share the same philosophy. In fact, he's sure they don't.
Rifan was a hard worker even before his wife drove him to become a workaholic. Franses just seems to go with the flow.
Franses wanders through the unending rows of tents and ever-present dirt and mud. He has been swallowing fosebine by the gallon -- he will never get the taste out of his mouth. It isn't helping. What in the name of death was in that punch last night?
Rifan has never been paired with a Donor who outranked him so much, and has trouble deferring to Franses, especially when the man never seems to make the same decision he would have.
Franses is trying to remember where the trin shop is. He has asked two Gens and a renSime. Why don't they put up some street signs or something around here?
Rifan in fact has been squirming to take charge, and only the knowledge that he will be reprimanded for insubordination (by the Powers that Be, if not Franses himself) has kept his lips sealed.
Rifan is starting to wonder if Franses is not just easy-going, though. At times he seems downright disinterested in the work.
Rifan had thought that was just good field control, but a couple days of working with him has ruled out that possibility.
Franses turns down yet another nondescript row of tents and see something that looks slightly different at the end.
Rifan can't complain too much, as he'd hardly rate a First under ordinary circumstances and the man's nager does have its nice points, but it is a bit alarming to be slapped around by a nager that size knowing that the guy might not be 100% in control of it.
Rifan thinks that Franses maybe really doesn't care about the work, and is just going through the motions. It's hard to understand that kind of attitude.
Rifan zlins something that zlins suspiciously like Franses coming toward him.
Rifan thinks it zlins suspiciously like Franses with a hang over!
Franses head in that direction. He tries not let his headache spill over into the ambient but he is climbing toward a quarter field which will make the control even more difficult.
Rifan's eyes water as he gets a better zlin.
Rifan: Oh. This is unacceptable.
Rifan's tentacles shoot back into their sheathes.
Rifan, disgruntled, takes another sip of his tea.
Rifan wonders what he is supposed to do about his rating superior showing up hung over.
Rifan doesn't approve at all, but what say does he have? Unless he wants to go behind Franses' back and report him to the Controller or something, he's pretty much stuck with the situation.
Rifan has too much self-preservation instinct to do something that dumb.
Franses finally see the trees at the end of the row and the canvas cover that keeps the nearly constant rain off the patrons. This is the place; he hurries on. Rifan is waiting and from the way he has been acting he won't appreciate his Donor being late and hung over.
Franses wishes he could do something about that but....
Rifan stands, as Franses finally arrives.
Rifan's expression says "There you are", but all he says is, "Hello."
Rifan: Ready for a new day?
Rifan glances at Franses' uniform, which is the worse for the wear.
Rifan thinks the least the guy could do was wash and hang out the laundry before heading off to the shiltpron pits.
Rifan tries to keep his disapproval off his face, with little success.
Franses sees Rifan standing there looking for all the world like storm cloud. He tries to project ~~calm contentment~~ but is really projecting ~~slightly sick headache~~
Beni, unlike Franses, has an estimated 98.4562% control of his field, up from a mere 96.2451% when he started training intensively with Arat.
Franses: Sorry I'm late. Someone should put up street signs around here.
Rifan's expression becomes pained as Frances projects his headache at him.
Rifan: Oh... yeah. Good idea.
Rifan: Shall we then?
Rifan puts his cup back on the "counter" and rejoins Franses.
Beni's uniform is not as crisp as Sergeant Edka's, but no one has spilled a mug full of porstan down it since it was last laundered, either.
Franses: Sure. I just....
Franses puts his head in his hands as a sharper pain takes him by surprise.
Beni tries to maintain the standards of his Tecton rank to the extent possible.
Franses: Sorry, I gotta sit for a second. [plops in the nearest chair]
Rifan has to sit down for a moment too!
Rifan hopes it's not going to be like this all month.
Rifan: OK.
Franses' legs are going numb from the amount of fosebine he has taken. He vows to find out what was in that punch and make the brewer stop putting it in there. That stuff is lethal.
Rifan furtively zlins Franses, but it's impossible to know how accurate the information is when dealing with a First.
Franses: Sorry Hajene. I seem to have gotten a hold of some very bad punch.
Franses: Hold on a moment.
Rifan: ...OK.
Rifan sighs and hopes Franses has learned his lesson.
Rifan suspects that, at Frances' age, he hasn't learned his lesson yet, more's the pity.
Beni was therefore not at all pleased to catch a glimpse of Franses ducking into a "tea" tent, some half an hour after he and Rifan were supposed to be on duty.
Beni follows after, frowning.
Franses concentrates. He can sublimate the pain if he concentrates hard enough.
Franses: [looks at Rifan] Better?
Rifan can never figure out if Arat likes him or hates him. Officially, Arat barely notices him. But there must be some reason why he keeps getting the problem Donors.
Rifan: Er... yes. Much. [weakly]
Beni notes that the tent serves the sort of tea that Snake appreciates, and that Franses has met his channel, but that they are just sitting around, not proceeding to their assigned workplace.
Franses: I promise you this won't happen again.
Rifan: Hey, don't mention it.
Rifan fervently hopes so.
Beni lets his nager show a controlled measure of disapproval as he approaches.
Franses likes to party but hates hurting the Simes around him.
Beni: What the shen is going on here??
Beni: Aren't you two on duty?
Rifan jumps up immediately, then regrets it.
Rifan: Yes, Sosu Beni.
Rifan barely manages to keep his feet. His legs feel numb for some reason.
Franses looks up at the irate Donor.
Franses: Sosu Beni. Sorry, it's my fault.
Franses: I think I've been poisoned.
Beni sniffs, noting the odor of stale porstan that clings to Franses's rumpled uniform.
Franses: [adds quickly] But I will survive.
Beni: It looks to me as if your "poisoning" was voluntary.
Beni: It's one thing for the unemployed rabble to drown their sorrows in rotgut, but as a Tecton employee, you have standards to maintain.
Beni: ~~ severe ~~
Rifan's tentacles creep back into their sheathes as the two Firsts face off.
Rifan surreptitiously steps back a couple of steps, to be less in the crossfire.
Beni notes Rifan's defensive behavior and moderates his projection to simply ~~ coolly disapproving ~~
Beni has come to the conclusion that Rifan is largely an innocent victim of Franses's misbehavior.
Rifan concentrates on looking contrite and respectful, and like he wishes he wasn't there. Which he is, and does.
Franses see what Beni is doing to his assigned channel and starts to loose his temper.
Franses: Sosu, would you please. [nods toward Rifan]
Beni: Do what? Let you project your hangover at him until he's just as sick as you are?
Franses has been doing his best not to hurt Rifan with his headache and doesn't think Beni should be spilling anger or what ever all over the poor Sime.
Franses: So you are protecting him?
Beni: I'm doing a better job of it than you can, at the moment.
Beni: What were you thinking of, getting drunk when you knew you had to work today?
Franses wonders if the fosebine or the punch is causing his lack of judgment.
Franses: I didn't get drunk, or rather I didn't drink enough to get drunk. As I said, I was poisoned.
Rifan glances from Beni to Franses with an expression of "Oh no, how did I get into this?" modified somewhat by trying to look stiff-upper-lipped and professional.
Beni snorts skeptically.
Franses normally has a very high tolerance for intoxicants.
Beni: You should know better to drink the sort of stuff they brew around here.
Franses thinks, "I do now".
Rifan settles for looking above their heads at a pine tree in the next canyon, and thinking about how nice his wife has been to him lately.
Beni: Or haven't you seen what it does to the idiots who drink it?
Rifan hopes he hasn't traded home hell for work hell.
Franses: I can't argue with you on that score. I will certainly take better care to see to the quality of the beverage in future.
Franses is totally unrepentant about his party habits however. What else is there to do in this backwater?
Beni: Better yet, don't drink at all. There isn't anything remotely potable made here.
Beni: And stay away from shiltprons, while you're at it. This place is unstable enough when the renSimes are in control of their faculties.
Franses has decided to ignore this advice totally.
Beni: Get them drunk on a First Order nager, and we'll have riots that make the ones back in Capitol look like a mild public disturbance.
Rifan notices Frances is not zlinning like he's going to listen to Beni, and thinks it is going to be a long month.
Beni may be unable to zlin, but he doesn't have to, to know that he's failed to impress Franses with the seriousness of the situation.
Beni: Are you willing to give me your word that you will drink nothing stronger than tea, and will stay away from shiltprons?
Beni: For the entire time you are assigned to this construction site?
Franses: No, Sosu, I will not. But I will promise you that I won't be partying for the next three weeks.
Franses: I never do after I reach quarter field.
Franses: I'm not a total idiot.
Franses never would expose any Sime, ren or channel, to his full field with a shiltpron playing.
Beni is not at all pleased with Franses's reply.
Beni: That remains to be seen.
Rifan keeps his eyes fixed on the pine tree, thinking 'hoo, boy!'.
Beni: If you will not give me your word, then perhaps we should discuss this with Controller Arat.
Rifan thinks, 'oh, no!'
Beni is a bit reluctant to do that, as Arat has enough problems at the moment, but the danger Franses represents is too great to ignore.
Franses: If you want to take this up with the Controller, feel free. I will tell him what I told you.
Franses: Now would you do something constructive?
Franses looks at Beni in a questioning manner.
Beni: Like what?
Franses: Damp the harmonics for me because I am going to be very sick.
Franses proceeds to be very sick in a nearby bush.
Beni's face twists in disgust, but he grips the fields firmly, blocking Franses's nager from Rifan and what few renSimes haven't already fled the scene.
Beni looks at Rifan.
Rifan looks rather like a forlorn beagle.
Beni: Is this the first time he's been hung over like this?
Beni: Or does he do this regularly?
Franses is happy that by the time the dry heaves subside, though he is feeling much better.
Rifan: I've only been assigned to him for two days, Sosu. I'm not sure.
Rifan thinks he's done enough other weird stuff for the first two days, though.
Rifan of course doesn't really want to tell on Franses, as the last thing he wants is for Franses to have something against him for the rest of the month. Fortunately Beni asked him a specific question.
Franses grabs a glass of tea and rinses his mouth out.
Beni gathers from Rifan's carefully worded reply that Franses has indulged in other non-regulation behavior.
Franses: Thank you Sosu Beni.
Franses: I do feel better. I don't usually get hung over.
Beni knows that Mules aren't as reliable as regular Donors, but that is supposed to be only in the area of nageric control, not normal social behavior.
Franses: I don't like exposing the people around me to this sort of thing.
Beni edges a bit farther away from the effluvium of the bushes.
Beni: There's one sure way to prevent that.
Franses is coming to the conclusion that Beni may be right. He hates it.
Franses: I will consider what you have said. I wouldn't be drinking for the next three weeks anyway. Maybe I can find a good compromise.
Franses really is feeling more like his usual happy go lucky self.
Beni reaches a decision, which is alas based mostly on his desire to protect his mentor Arat, and not on his duty to the Tecton.
Beni: I won't report you to Arat immediately.
Beni: I will, however, be keeping a very close eye on you.
Franses looks an apology at Rifan.
Beni: Any misbehavior on your part, however small, particularly in the area of drunkenness, and I will see your hide nailed to the wall.
Franses: You gotta catch me first, Sosu.
Franses is beginning to get his sense of humor back as well.
Beni: That can be arranged.
Rifan gulps.
Franses: What I meant was, you won't catch me as I will not be drinking.
Rifan knows this is going to end up on his record somehow.
Franses: Hajene, if you will give me a minute to shower and change again I will be ready to go to work.
Franses feels a great deal of remorse for having discomfited the channel and vows to make it up to the poor fellow as best he can with his field rising.
Rifan: Sure.
Rifan thinks they are getting later and later, but anything that would keep them from getting into more trouble later is a plus to him.
Franses: Why don't I meet you in the dispensary, Hajene?
Rifan: OK.
Franses wanders off down the rows of tents again, hoping that he can find the dispensary.
Beni looks after Franses with distaste.
Franses really does want a shower and a clean uniform.
Beni: Rifan, I don't want to cause trouble between you and the Donor you have to work with.
Beni: However, Franses can't be allowed to behave like this, for everyone's sake.
Rifan: Yes, Sosu Beni.
Rifan happens to agree - on both counts.
Beni: If you notice that his extracurricular activities have impaired his ability to work with you, or are endangering others, send me word discreetly, and I'll take care of it.
Rifan: Yes, Sosu.
Rifan doesn't like it, but an order is an order.
Beni hopes that the option to avoid taking personal blame for any ensuing punishment of Franses will overcome Rifan's natural reluctance to make his Donor unhappy.
Beni touches Rifan on the shoulder in ~~ encouragement ~~
Beni adds a touch of ~~ approval ~~ as well
Beni: Thank you.
Rifan finds Beni's Farris-trained touch rather overwhelmingly luxurious, even after a couple of days working with another First.
Rifan of course isn't as equipped to appreciate it as a Farris would be, but he can certainly appreciate the size.
Beni: With any luck, Franses has learned his lesson, and Arat will never have to learn about this incident.
Rifan does pale at the mention of Arat, though.
Rifan: Yes, Sosu!
Rifan wants nothing more than to forget this ever happened.
Go on to Episode #36: Put Your Left Foot Out
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