PICTURE OF THE DAY

I'm running out of synonyms for cute here.

DAILY RAMBLING
For those of you who have been wondering where the rest of the Revolution story is, the following took fifteen minutes to transcribe, covering five minutes or so of game time. Games usually run between five and six hours. It has been very hard for the past nine months to come up with the large chunks of time best suited to get a whole game done and edited. I am determined to finish transcribing this stuff, and perhaps I'll continue with the effort in this format, at least occasionally.

Lydia's checkup went fine yesterday.

* * *

Having defeated Power 100 years in the future, the Revolution return to their base to speak with the friendly police commissioner and unfriendly colonel about their plans, which perforce are vague.

    "Well, we do have one other official thing to do, Commissioner."
    "Oh, yes."
    We suspected that the one thing was not a welcoming parade.
    "Mr. Benson?"
    "Yeah?" was the suspicious answer.
    "Just wanted to find out... we have a psychologist outside, looking for an opportunity to interview you, determine your... uh, stability. Would you be willing to join us quietly for a few moments, Mr. Benson?"
    "The psychologist is here?"
    "On one of the planes outside."
    "Bring him in here. We'll have the talk right here."
    I shrugged. "Sure. Stephanie, would you escort the gentlemen...?" I added mental apologies to her for making her play this role.
    "Colonel, if you'll come with me?" The two of them went to fetch the doctor.
    "So, uh... time travel," the commissioner said, a bit nervously.
    "Apparently," I replied.
    "What's it feel like?"
    Paul and I exchanged a look, and shrugged.
    "Now that the colonel's gone, are you planning on staying?"
    "We've got a few things to discuss here," I told him.
    "You're not going to give me an answer, are you."
    "Commisioner, I'm sure you can understand our situation," Thunderbolt said. "I understand yours, I'm sure you can see our side."
    "I can, I can... it's just the powers that be will be mollified if they knew that you were exercising all due concern in trying to return to your original time period."
    "Mollified?" Paul queried.
    "I did get a note from a Mr. Wittelsbach, letting us know that your back pay came to two million, four hundred and seventy-four thousand...."
    "I think something less than that will suffice for our modest needs," I told him dryly.
    "There's also a lot of concern on the streets," he said. "Boston hasn't had any variant activity in some time. Some people are looking forward to—especially given what just happened—having you around... others are not looking forward to having you around. If there's one thing that makes a police officer's job difficult, it's uncertainty."
    "Understood."
    "When you make a decision, if you could let us know before I see it on Crossfire?"
    We assured him that we would do so. Stephanie, the colonel, and Dr. Melissa Sleifert walked in.

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