Hi, Mason here. Hey, first off, great to have you on the team. I know it’s not an easy choice to join up, and I want you to know I appreciate the bravery and the backup. I hope you’ll take this in the spirit of togetherness and cooperation as we try to liberate Mars:

You’re not helping. There, I’ve said it. I know, you think “Hey, Mason’s in a gunfight, let’s rush in and start shooting at things.” And I love the thought. Love it. But in an actual fight started by me, there’s all kinds of crazy ordnance being fired at and by me. I’ve got some armor on, I’m hauling this giant rocket launcher and this other crazy nanoweapon I don’t even want to start talking about… and you just got out of a pickup.

About that pickup. By the time you’re on the scene, there’s probably already at least two armored trucks on the scene. Soon tanks are going to show up, airships, and I’m thinking I might try to get the tank to chase me through the garage, saving me the trouble of trying to blow the building up myself while under fire. Following me around on foot is probably not the best course of action, and it’s not as if you’re going to be able to take on heavy armor with a lifted suspension.

When you get offed, too, and clearly, you’re going to get offed, everyone gets all depressed about it. I’m better off, as long as you’re going to be like this, with you running as far away from the action as possible. Beyond which, there aren’t a lot of us out here, and if we’re going to end up going this alone, we need all the genes we can get.

I’ll tell you what would really help: go pick up a sledgehammer and beat up some buildings. Mine. Next time you see me, just say “Hey, Mason — nice job with the walker, you must have thrown that tower a good click, click and a half, huh? Hey, I know there are all kinds of things you need salvage for, so I went out and got you another fifty, hundred, two hundred bits. Keep up the good work!”

Would be huge. Huge. When I’m firing off that 30th nanoammothingy and see an EDF barracks fall over on its side, I’ll nod, smile, and thank you for your contribution to the extra ammo fund. At 25, maybe it doesn’t collapse. That’s all you.

If you insist, and I can see that you will, why not help me out by spreading them out a little? Spread them out with random acts of vandalism, for instance. Or, while everyone in the sector is tearing over for a shot at me and the ration bonus, you could find a nice isolated guard shack and blow that up. Help us all out a little, and at little danger to yourself. Or heck, why not place some charges and ambush the convoy of troops headed over to where I’m tossing rockets around?

Still too indirect? I get it, I’m a guy who likes to take apart buildings with a sledgehammer and drive dumptrucks covered in explosives into things. How about this, then — let’s do some real guerrilla stuff. Go sneak around to the sides and back of their positions and get a nice firing position. I’ll wait, it’s okay. Then they’ll have two choices: react to you and give me some room, or concentrate on me and let you pick them off. As it is, when we clump up like that, we’re even easier targets.

You don’t want to make this easy on them, do you?

And since you’re insisting on being directly involved, and near me, there are a couple things you could do. One, get in a turret. And two, even more broadly, if the situation is deteriorating quickly and I need to retreat, you should come with me. I know, it seems like a let down after you’ve charged in on your pickup or climbed out of your taxi to take up arms against your oppressor. But a minute ago you were reheating a cup of soup on a hot plate. Think about that soup. Should we waste food and risk your life to make a point about your dedication? Of course not. No one doubts your dedication.

What I’m trying to say is that we all want the same thing — a free Mars, where we can live peacefully and build a shared future together. And when that happens, I want to see us all there for it. Right now, you’re not bringing that future any closer.

So please, be safe, and smart, and if you see any salvage around, it would be great if you could drop that off for me at the nearest safehouse.

Yours sincerely,

Mason from “Red Faction Guerrilla”
cc: Sam, the Commander

The last week or so, Maddie’s been spending a lot of time hanging out with me, and I’ve been happy to sit and watch a baseball game or whatever for a couple hours while petting her or scratching her head with a pen. It’s made me happy, too. And she’s been pretty much herself, though she’s obviously not as spry as she was pre-heat-wave-heart-incident, and doesn’t breathe quite so well.

But she didn’t seem like she was in pain, or anything, much as we fretted. Today while Jill was home, she didn’t seem to be doing well, and it went downhill from there: panting, loss of muscle control, everything. By the time we got her to the vet, she couldn’t breathe and it was clear she wasn’t going to get through it.

I can’t bring it all together still, the ten years, her last few months, still interested and princess-y, and seeing her there in her last minutes, all but gone. Writing this, I kept expecting to hear her wander in to jump on the desk and check out what I’m working on, and I’d say “Hey!” and scratch her head and explain what I’m typing about. Yet I’m relieved that we were able to do some good by being there when everything went bad, and could offer some kind of merciful end.

chill, wet, patchy days
as fall comes to Seattle
like July, or June

today’s sounders match
sun, cheering, aggressive play
zero zero draw

Slept in, decided to finally look into DSL service since my provider’s long, long descent into horribleness has led to me being having slow, vastly overcharged. This ended up taking hours, as trying to figure out which provider is least horrible is like trying to decide if you’re better off drilling a hole in your skull using a power drill and one or another sized bit, or if you want to go with a hand-cranked version. It’s all painful and horrible.

Then I went to go buy wine. Garagiste is awesome. Wine Outlet is awesome. Bringing home four cases of crazy, great, cheap wine almost redeems the day. Seattle rocks.

And now I’m going to make (not quite from scratch) ravioli and a nice tomato sauce. After which, I’ll sit down for my scheduled ~7pm appointment with the keyboard to write.

My pledge: I’m going to stop doing moon research and write the book, and not draft-1 of the book, I’m going through the last outline and writing all the chapter placeholders, all the gaps in draft-1. And I’m going to start pushing out snippets to prove it. And if not that, than the YA book, and if not that, then something. Word counts word counts word counts.

So:

“What do you think the chances are it blows out?” Megumi asked.
Shhhhh.
Megumi sighed. “I don’t know,” James said. “It’s why we’re running the test.”
Megumi made a face. “I know….” She said. “Okay. I think it’s a hundred percent.”
The two vendors looked over, and James’ eyebrows shot up.
“What?” Megumi asked. “No? You think it holds? Care to make it interesting?”