A New Headache

His head pounded like a drum solo at a Minmatar wedding. The only thing keeping him conscious was the sight of the coffee being brought to him by an angel with a name tag that said ‘Hi My Name Is Cindi’. He thanked the waitress and clutched the mug with both hands.

‘You really cut loose last night.” Scotty yelled. OK, maybe he didn’t yell it, maybe it was a conversational level . . . but Mike winced just the same.

“It’s not a party until you are wondering how you got home and why your pants didn’t.” Mike grated out in a hoarse voice.

“She is looking for you.” Scotty warned him. “And so are a bunch of other folks. I crashed at 0300, while you were up on the stage singing ‘Gallente Man’.”

Mike moaned and looked around. ‘She say whether she was mad at me?”

“I think she just wanted to give you your pants back.” Scotty was fighting off a giggling fit. “The other folks were also at the party, but I don’t think they are returning any of the things you threw out into the crowd.”

Mike looked down at the coveralls he was wearing and chuckled. “I’m glad I found these to wear. They are a little small but . . . ”

Scotty did fall of his seat laughing. “Well, the dancer only used them as part of her costume so I guess the rules were ‘Once it hits the floor it is anybody’s'”

“Dancer? As in Exotic? And you are sure Dee is not mad, she just wants to give my pants back, right? Right?”

“Right.” The calm voice was directly behind him. Scotty looked up and started whooping and then gasping for air. “I recovered your pants . . . your shirt was last seen on the dancer and I suggest you do not ask her to give it back.”

Mike rotated his head slowly, mainly because it still felt like it might fall off if he made sudden movements. “Hey Dee, giggles here told me you were looking for me?”

Dee looked him up and down and a smile he had not seen before blossomed on her face. He would later know that this was ‘You are about to regret whatever the hell it is you just did’ look. “Your Aunt called. She and ‘the family’ are coming to visit. They should dock tomorrow morning.”

“Oh lords above and below preserve us all.” Mike muttered. “This changes everything.”

“Scuse me, Mr. Azariah? I heard some of what you were saying about Gallente, last night. I was wondering if you had time to answer some more questions?” The pilot looked like he was the vanguard of a several capsuleers who all seemed to be heading his way.

“Mike. I don’t use my last name since hardly anybody knows how to say it properly. What are your questions?”



Okay, two or three quick things.

I worry about Incarna . . . if there is no reason for us to get out of the pod will they make us ‘walk to the store’ and force us to be bodies as well as ships? Worse, will there me some minigames? I wracked my brains for a couple of days trying to think of something besides exotic dancers that would make me want to also be a character with a body. Not that I object to the ability to party with other characters, it is just that is not the be all and the end all of a reason.

Took some work but I did come up with one idea that might work. Specialized office user interfaces. Suppose you could have an industrialists office or a trading office where the walls became icons that you could move, re-size and do your industrial business. Suppose there were maps or a fitting screen that a small group could share. Maybe the ability to show specific training videos to a group of people in a seminar. Not to mention sexy research librarians. Station bound people would have easier access to markets, plans and planetary interactions. Later this could make way for battle maps for the interface with Dust 514.

It’s a thought, anyhow.

Oh, the other thing? Yes I am chatting with folks about Gallente heroes. No, it was not just a storyline. More on that in a post to come.


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