The new 'Smart' F1 car can park in the tiniest of spaces.
Carl flicked his wrist again. 7.20.
Oh shitty ****.
He had got caught up in the morning rush. A fully integrated 24 hour society and there was still a rush hour.
Bollocks.
Carl stepped into Dillans’ outer office. Tracy was looking harassed.
The door to Dillans’ own office was ajar.
‘Carl’. Boomed The voice. ‘Get your lazy behind in here’.
Carl gave a wry smile and blew a kiss to Tracy who only raised her eyebrows in return.
He walked in to see Dillan, red faced, leaning against his desk.
Carl was surprised to see another man sitting very meekly in one of the extra chairs in front of Dillans desk.
‘Carl. ‘Bout bloody time. This is Dave Spenny’.
Carl acknowledged the stranger. ‘Of Spenny GWI?’.
Dillan answered. ‘You know this guy?’
‘Know of him rather than actually know him. He’s a director of Spenny’s, makes the chairs that they all sit in, I presume he’s been a bit caught up with these Plug in kids carping off.’ Carl smiled a predatory smile at the Mr Spenny.
The stranger returned the smile thinly. Dillan did the introductions. ‘Dave, this is Inspector Payne’.
The man rose from his chair and weakly shook John’s hand. It was a limp clammy shake of a man who was not used to dealing with the Dillans’ of this world. He was going to have trouble with me then, Carl thought.
Dillan walked to his side of the desk and sat heavily in his large chair. ‘Sit down Carl, we got some talking to do.’ Dillan shouted through the open door of his office ‘Three coffees, Tracy. . .Please.’ He turned back to the other two ‘There’s been another one Carl.’
‘ I know, read it about it on the bright eye bulletin this morning’.
‘What do you know about it’.
‘Not much. Third one in two weeks. Look like Identical deaths. All died in the Chair. All Plug In kids, two boys one girl. I thought the local boys had a handle on it’.
‘So did they, but I’m putting you in charge of the case’.
‘Case?’.
‘Yea, We think they are all connected. If they are this is bigger than the locals. They all have the same trademarks. No signs of outside interference, nothing on the autopsies. Just gone’.
‘How do we know it’s not just suicide’.
‘Three in two weeks? And in a Chair. Come on Carl you better than that’.
Carl grunted. It was impossible to die in the Chairs. What with their fail-safe’s and lifeguards. They would not let a body die. They could not let a body die even if the body wanted to.
‘So what we got to go on?’
‘Not much. In fact we’re stumped. At least until young Mr Spenney here decided to pay us a visit. You know there was nothing on the bodies. No sign of beating or any indication of intent to kill. Even the Autopsy’s brought up very little other than these kids where barely alive anyway. It couldn’t be any non payment beating gone out of control. There is nothing to indicate anything going on in the Real and I was loath to think that it was coming from the net.’
‘Which is impossible to do, right?’
‘Yea, so we thought. Until our new friend here came to us. He also read the news this morning and decided from the goodness of his heart and his community spirit to share some information with us. Haven’t you Dave’. The disdain fairly dripped from Dillans booming voice. Dave was visible shaken. Carl was almost feeling sorry for him having to face such a man as Dillan. But by the sounds of it he was deserving of the wrath of Dillan.
‘Er, yea. Um. Here.’ Dave handed Carl a folder that he had been holding closely. ‘This is a complete diagnoses of our Chairs and the systems involved.’
‘Your chairs?’
‘Yea, we manufacture all the chairs used in the Halls. It’s an old agreement that nobody seems to want in on. Umm . . .every, umm.’ Dave’s eyes darted from one policeman to the other.
‘Death’. Prompted Carl.
‘Er, yea. Has happened in our Chairs, well I mean there are no other chairs, only ours.’ Dave glanced again at the two hard faced cops. ‘Right. Umm. We only use our software and carefully vetted hardware in them. They use fully integrated hardwired failsafe. Nothing can get around them. When the first One happened we just assumed it was a No pay beating. Didn’t think anything else of it. It’s happened before. But then the second happened and your Local lot started asking us questions.
I mean we don’t want this back on us, the Chairs get enough bad publicity as it is. You know taking away kids from their parents, getting them into money troubles. The last thing we need is our Chairs to be ****ing up. And it’s not as if we design all the software or anything. We build the chairs. People sit in them. We protect them from themselves. But everyone wants anyone to blame so long as it’s not their children or their themselves. And the anyone in this case will be us. We have been testing and debugging like nobodies business. We can’t afford for this to be our fault.
So we ran our full diog. It turned up nothing. Completely clean.’
Dave gulped down on something. His Adams Apple bobbed like a fishing float.
He continued ‘And then the third this morning.’ He was visibly sweating. ‘We ran it through again, changed a few parameters, tweaked the remit slightly and . .’ He paused and swallowed hard. He looked like a man pleading for his life. Maybe he was. ‘We found something.’
‘God damn corporate.’ Dillan shoved his chair back. ‘Why didn’t you tell us this earlier.’
‘ I, er. I didn’t think. We’re very busy at the moment we have nearly six worlds ready to launch and what with the debugs and rip outs.’ He paused looking at the unimpressed faces and then to his clammy hands that lay in his lap. He felt like a chastised school boy before the Head and his tutor. He was having nasty flashbacks. They said that this might be a side effect. He realised he had left his Nebuliser in his desk at work. God, how he wanted a hit right now. He tried hard to compose himself again. He fessed up ‘I didn’t get a chance. I’m sorry I didn’t think.’
Dillan exploded. And it wasn’t for Carls’ benefit. Dillan was truly angry. Good old Dillan thought Carl, one of the old school. No bullshit. What’s black is black and what’s wrong is wrong. No political correctness about it.
‘Too ****ing right you didn’t think. If you want us to help you with this you gotta keep clean with us. Because believe me if we find you are withholding anything else we will clean you out and strip you down. That goes for both you and your company.’
Dillan came around the desk and stood in front of the quivering Dave. His jabbing finger inches away from the mans nose. ‘So do have you anything else important you feel obliged to tell us’.
‘We, er . . ****.’ Dave started gushing. ‘ We thought it was nothing. It couldn’t possible be connected. It was a subroutine so deeply buried in the system that even we don’t really know it’s there.’
Carl spoke, his voice softer than Dillans. Dave looked at him almost relieved, anything to take the heat from Dillans stare from him. ‘What does this subroutine do’. Carls voice was calm and smooth, feeling sorry for the beleaguered man.
‘It . .If it’s broken and modified in a certain way it gives access to a few more routines. And then a few more. Then a few more.’ He loosened his tie. ‘Well, without going into the technicalities of it all . . ‘
‘Please don’t.’ Interrupted Dillan who was leaning against his desk, his arms folded severely across his broad chest.
Dave carried on ‘ . .It eventually leads to a breakdown in the lifeguards. Once that happens the Occupant can over ride the pullouts and the Resus equipment. Once he or she does that they can allow themselves to die. From the inside out. They kill their mind. Without the mind the body is allowed to die by the Chair.’
Dillan returned to his side of the desk. ‘Shit’ he said under his breath. That was the quietest Carl had ever heard Dillan. ‘So these kids are committing virtual suicide on the Net. And in response their body believes it and dies along with it.’
‘That’s pretty much the jist of it, yes. But it is a lot more complicated than that. You see . .
‘Spare me the details, they are for Carl here to go through. Carl, I want you to use my other office. Tracy is at your disposal. My door is always open. Go and sit down with Dave here and go through some of this shit. Keep me updated ok.’
‘Sir, but I don’t know the first thing about this sort of thing. You know I don’t, there hundreds of script kids, Porn Chasers and Hacks in this building that can handle this a thousand times better than I can’.
‘I know that Carl, but I want you on the case and you ain’t going to argue.’
Carl knew better than to argue. He indicated to Dave that they should go. He led Dave through past Tracy to the other office. It was more of a meeting room. A large pseudo wood table dominated the room surrounded by high backed chairs. In the centre of the table with it’s matching box on the ceiling was the projector. Carl knew that the entire opposite wall was a view screen. He sat Dave down telling him he would be back in a minute.
He went back into Dillans office.
‘Cracked it already’. Said Dillan sarcastically without looking up something he was reading.
‘What else is there?’.
Dillan Looked up. ‘What do you mean?’.
‘You wouldn’t have put me on this case if you thought it was cut and dried. You know full well I cannot stand this head ****ing techno shit.’
‘Language! Only I’m allowed to swear in this office as well you know.’
Carl shrugged his shoulders. ‘Look, I’m a Real. Always have been and always will be. I mean, ****, I can only just use my Mobile’.
‘You rarely do that’.
‘Exactly. You know I’m not a Tech head. So why give me this job?’
‘Look Carl. Don’t you think it’s about time you joined the 22nd century. Look around you. Have you seen the sort of shit we use everyday that neither of us had thirty, forty years ago.’
‘I try not too’.
‘Well maybe it’s a time you started trying, some of it is actually quite useful.’
‘But why me Sir, Why this job. You know I got other cases on the go.’
‘I know but they are just street jobs.’
‘Just Sir? I’ve got two rapes, a suspected murder and a rash of burglaries down in the basement. You know what they get like down there. They’ll take it into their own hands if they don’t see us doing anything.’
‘I’ll get Harry onto those. He’s good and well known down there. Look Carl.’ Dillan settled back in his chair and rested his hands on the desk. ‘I need you on this case. You are the best I got. And you know it so don’t look like that. I dunno what you got going on in your head but you got a good mind for catching the bad guys.’ Dillan spun in his chair to look out of the window that was behind him. He was pensive for a few moments his hands folded under his chin gazing out unseeing at the colony beyond the glass. He sighed and turned back to Carl. ‘Look, this isn’t just a murder investigation. I reckon this goes a lot deeper than that. I can’t tell you how I know, you need to find this out for yourself.’ He fixed Carl in a hard stare. ‘Please. Take this case on. Look into it and find out what is going on. And look good and hard. Promise me ok?’
‘But . . .’
‘No but’s Carl. Please see this through and do what you have to do.’ He looked away suddenly back to his paperwork. ‘Dismissed’.
Carl knew he wasn’t going to get any more out of Dillan. He had his orders. He turned and left the room confused and a little bemused.
Oh shitty ****.
He had got caught up in the morning rush. A fully integrated 24 hour society and there was still a rush hour.
Bollocks.
Carl stepped into Dillans’ outer office. Tracy was looking harassed.
The door to Dillans’ own office was ajar.
‘Carl’. Boomed The voice. ‘Get your lazy behind in here’.
Carl gave a wry smile and blew a kiss to Tracy who only raised her eyebrows in return.
He walked in to see Dillan, red faced, leaning against his desk.
Carl was surprised to see another man sitting very meekly in one of the extra chairs in front of Dillans desk.
‘Carl. ‘Bout bloody time. This is Dave Spenny’.
Carl acknowledged the stranger. ‘Of Spenny GWI?’.
Dillan answered. ‘You know this guy?’
‘Know of him rather than actually know him. He’s a director of Spenny’s, makes the chairs that they all sit in, I presume he’s been a bit caught up with these Plug in kids carping off.’ Carl smiled a predatory smile at the Mr Spenny.
The stranger returned the smile thinly. Dillan did the introductions. ‘Dave, this is Inspector Payne’.
The man rose from his chair and weakly shook John’s hand. It was a limp clammy shake of a man who was not used to dealing with the Dillans’ of this world. He was going to have trouble with me then, Carl thought.
Dillan walked to his side of the desk and sat heavily in his large chair. ‘Sit down Carl, we got some talking to do.’ Dillan shouted through the open door of his office ‘Three coffees, Tracy. . .Please.’ He turned back to the other two ‘There’s been another one Carl.’
‘ I know, read it about it on the bright eye bulletin this morning’.
‘What do you know about it’.
‘Not much. Third one in two weeks. Look like Identical deaths. All died in the Chair. All Plug In kids, two boys one girl. I thought the local boys had a handle on it’.
‘So did they, but I’m putting you in charge of the case’.
‘Case?’.
‘Yea, We think they are all connected. If they are this is bigger than the locals. They all have the same trademarks. No signs of outside interference, nothing on the autopsies. Just gone’.
‘How do we know it’s not just suicide’.
‘Three in two weeks? And in a Chair. Come on Carl you better than that’.
Carl grunted. It was impossible to die in the Chairs. What with their fail-safe’s and lifeguards. They would not let a body die. They could not let a body die even if the body wanted to.
‘So what we got to go on?’
‘Not much. In fact we’re stumped. At least until young Mr Spenney here decided to pay us a visit. You know there was nothing on the bodies. No sign of beating or any indication of intent to kill. Even the Autopsy’s brought up very little other than these kids where barely alive anyway. It couldn’t be any non payment beating gone out of control. There is nothing to indicate anything going on in the Real and I was loath to think that it was coming from the net.’
‘Which is impossible to do, right?’
‘Yea, so we thought. Until our new friend here came to us. He also read the news this morning and decided from the goodness of his heart and his community spirit to share some information with us. Haven’t you Dave’. The disdain fairly dripped from Dillans booming voice. Dave was visible shaken. Carl was almost feeling sorry for him having to face such a man as Dillan. But by the sounds of it he was deserving of the wrath of Dillan.
‘Er, yea. Um. Here.’ Dave handed Carl a folder that he had been holding closely. ‘This is a complete diagnoses of our Chairs and the systems involved.’
‘Your chairs?’
‘Yea, we manufacture all the chairs used in the Halls. It’s an old agreement that nobody seems to want in on. Umm . . .every, umm.’ Dave’s eyes darted from one policeman to the other.
‘Death’. Prompted Carl.
‘Er, yea. Has happened in our Chairs, well I mean there are no other chairs, only ours.’ Dave glanced again at the two hard faced cops. ‘Right. Umm. We only use our software and carefully vetted hardware in them. They use fully integrated hardwired failsafe. Nothing can get around them. When the first One happened we just assumed it was a No pay beating. Didn’t think anything else of it. It’s happened before. But then the second happened and your Local lot started asking us questions.
I mean we don’t want this back on us, the Chairs get enough bad publicity as it is. You know taking away kids from their parents, getting them into money troubles. The last thing we need is our Chairs to be ****ing up. And it’s not as if we design all the software or anything. We build the chairs. People sit in them. We protect them from themselves. But everyone wants anyone to blame so long as it’s not their children or their themselves. And the anyone in this case will be us. We have been testing and debugging like nobodies business. We can’t afford for this to be our fault.
So we ran our full diog. It turned up nothing. Completely clean.’
Dave gulped down on something. His Adams Apple bobbed like a fishing float.
He continued ‘And then the third this morning.’ He was visibly sweating. ‘We ran it through again, changed a few parameters, tweaked the remit slightly and . .’ He paused and swallowed hard. He looked like a man pleading for his life. Maybe he was. ‘We found something.’
‘God damn corporate.’ Dillan shoved his chair back. ‘Why didn’t you tell us this earlier.’
‘ I, er. I didn’t think. We’re very busy at the moment we have nearly six worlds ready to launch and what with the debugs and rip outs.’ He paused looking at the unimpressed faces and then to his clammy hands that lay in his lap. He felt like a chastised school boy before the Head and his tutor. He was having nasty flashbacks. They said that this might be a side effect. He realised he had left his Nebuliser in his desk at work. God, how he wanted a hit right now. He tried hard to compose himself again. He fessed up ‘I didn’t get a chance. I’m sorry I didn’t think.’
Dillan exploded. And it wasn’t for Carls’ benefit. Dillan was truly angry. Good old Dillan thought Carl, one of the old school. No bullshit. What’s black is black and what’s wrong is wrong. No political correctness about it.
‘Too ****ing right you didn’t think. If you want us to help you with this you gotta keep clean with us. Because believe me if we find you are withholding anything else we will clean you out and strip you down. That goes for both you and your company.’
Dillan came around the desk and stood in front of the quivering Dave. His jabbing finger inches away from the mans nose. ‘So do have you anything else important you feel obliged to tell us’.
‘We, er . . ****.’ Dave started gushing. ‘ We thought it was nothing. It couldn’t possible be connected. It was a subroutine so deeply buried in the system that even we don’t really know it’s there.’
Carl spoke, his voice softer than Dillans. Dave looked at him almost relieved, anything to take the heat from Dillans stare from him. ‘What does this subroutine do’. Carls voice was calm and smooth, feeling sorry for the beleaguered man.
‘It . .If it’s broken and modified in a certain way it gives access to a few more routines. And then a few more. Then a few more.’ He loosened his tie. ‘Well, without going into the technicalities of it all . . ‘
‘Please don’t.’ Interrupted Dillan who was leaning against his desk, his arms folded severely across his broad chest.
Dave carried on ‘ . .It eventually leads to a breakdown in the lifeguards. Once that happens the Occupant can over ride the pullouts and the Resus equipment. Once he or she does that they can allow themselves to die. From the inside out. They kill their mind. Without the mind the body is allowed to die by the Chair.’
Dillan returned to his side of the desk. ‘Shit’ he said under his breath. That was the quietest Carl had ever heard Dillan. ‘So these kids are committing virtual suicide on the Net. And in response their body believes it and dies along with it.’
‘That’s pretty much the jist of it, yes. But it is a lot more complicated than that. You see . .
‘Spare me the details, they are for Carl here to go through. Carl, I want you to use my other office. Tracy is at your disposal. My door is always open. Go and sit down with Dave here and go through some of this shit. Keep me updated ok.’
‘Sir, but I don’t know the first thing about this sort of thing. You know I don’t, there hundreds of script kids, Porn Chasers and Hacks in this building that can handle this a thousand times better than I can’.
‘I know that Carl, but I want you on the case and you ain’t going to argue.’
Carl knew better than to argue. He indicated to Dave that they should go. He led Dave through past Tracy to the other office. It was more of a meeting room. A large pseudo wood table dominated the room surrounded by high backed chairs. In the centre of the table with it’s matching box on the ceiling was the projector. Carl knew that the entire opposite wall was a view screen. He sat Dave down telling him he would be back in a minute.
He went back into Dillans office.
‘Cracked it already’. Said Dillan sarcastically without looking up something he was reading.
‘What else is there?’.
Dillan Looked up. ‘What do you mean?’.
‘You wouldn’t have put me on this case if you thought it was cut and dried. You know full well I cannot stand this head ****ing techno shit.’
‘Language! Only I’m allowed to swear in this office as well you know.’
Carl shrugged his shoulders. ‘Look, I’m a Real. Always have been and always will be. I mean, ****, I can only just use my Mobile’.
‘You rarely do that’.
‘Exactly. You know I’m not a Tech head. So why give me this job?’
‘Look Carl. Don’t you think it’s about time you joined the 22nd century. Look around you. Have you seen the sort of shit we use everyday that neither of us had thirty, forty years ago.’
‘I try not too’.
‘Well maybe it’s a time you started trying, some of it is actually quite useful.’
‘But why me Sir, Why this job. You know I got other cases on the go.’
‘I know but they are just street jobs.’
‘Just Sir? I’ve got two rapes, a suspected murder and a rash of burglaries down in the basement. You know what they get like down there. They’ll take it into their own hands if they don’t see us doing anything.’
‘I’ll get Harry onto those. He’s good and well known down there. Look Carl.’ Dillan settled back in his chair and rested his hands on the desk. ‘I need you on this case. You are the best I got. And you know it so don’t look like that. I dunno what you got going on in your head but you got a good mind for catching the bad guys.’ Dillan spun in his chair to look out of the window that was behind him. He was pensive for a few moments his hands folded under his chin gazing out unseeing at the colony beyond the glass. He sighed and turned back to Carl. ‘Look, this isn’t just a murder investigation. I reckon this goes a lot deeper than that. I can’t tell you how I know, you need to find this out for yourself.’ He fixed Carl in a hard stare. ‘Please. Take this case on. Look into it and find out what is going on. And look good and hard. Promise me ok?’
‘But . . .’
‘No but’s Carl. Please see this through and do what you have to do.’ He looked away suddenly back to his paperwork. ‘Dismissed’.
Carl knew he wasn’t going to get any more out of Dillan. He had his orders. He turned and left the room confused and a little bemused.
The exibit at Madam Tussauds was getting quite a reaction.
No, I was working on the power line. It's my job. I'm a Linesman. Certainly gave me a renewed respect for all things nature.
And, yes. Yes I am. But I try not to shout about it.
Falling out of a plane kinda was cool.
Car crashes are kinda loosing their edge a bit.
Space mountain at Euro Disney got the old heart pumping.
Getting your power line that your working on hit by lightening really, really, really makes you glad to be alive. Man I was buzzing for about a week after that.
Car crashes are kinda loosing their edge a bit.
Space mountain at Euro Disney got the old heart pumping.
Getting your power line that your working on hit by lightening really, really, really makes you glad to be alive. Man I was buzzing for about a week after that.
Been a while I know but hey, all good things come to those that wait. As we in the LFS community are all to familiar with.
* * * * * * *
In the delivery room the hush was deathly. After the raw emotion that had come before the contrast was startling. The mother lay panting softly, exhausted and confused. Her baby had gone. They had taken her baby away. She lay exhausted on her bed. There was no energy left in her body.
She looked to her husband who was stood next to her holding her hand.
He shook his head, bemused.
‘It’s ok’. Said the midwife. ‘They’ve just taken him for some tests. I’m sure everything is all right, but lets get you cleaned up. Don’t worry, they will tell you soon.’
Silence reigned once again, interrupted only by the gentle remonstrations of the nurses and the quiet sobbing of an exhausted woman.
The baby was back. The room was quiet but this time in a controlled way. The hubbub of a busy maternity ward dulled by thick doors. Mother and son reunited again.
‘It’s not right’. The husband stood silhouetted against the darkened window of the hospital room his arms crossed. The mother lay in bed holding her babe in arms. She cradled him gently in her arms cooing softly.
‘It’s my son. I will look after him.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because he is my child’.
‘Our child Marion. It’s our boy, was our boy. But you have made your feelings obvious.’.
‘Oh no Bill. Please don’t do this’.
‘You didn’t tell me Marion. You didn’t say a word. You kept it hidden from me.’
‘But you would have . . ‘
‘Would have what Marion? What exactly would I have done? The least you could have done was tell me.’
The exhausted mother broke. ‘But you where never there Bill. Never. Never at the scans, never at the CC meetings. I decorated the nursery, I’ve supplied everything this baby needs and what have you given me? Given us? Nothing. You where always too busy with your precious work. Your . . .’ She spat the next word. ‘Company. Never once have you given me reason to think you where at all interested in this baby. Can you blame me for not telling you? I knew exactly what you would have done. You would have made me loose him.’ She looked to the little bundle in her arms. ‘You would have taken away my baby boy.’
He sighed a deep and long sigh. He pushed himself away from the window and opened the heavy door. The harsh light of the corridor shone bright across mother and child. She squinted, the baby nary stirred. He stood for a moment looking out into the corridor.
‘There will be money.’ He said, his back to the room.
‘I don’t want your money’ He heard as he walked away. ‘I just wanted my baby . . .’ The closing heavy door drowned out anything else.
And with that he walked back to his life.
Having heard the raised voices a nurse popped her head into the room.
‘Everything alright love? Can I get you anything?’
‘I’m alright thank you. I have everything I need right here.’
The nurse smiled and left.
Mother sat up cradling her son.
‘Don’t listen to him Baby. I’ll look after you. You and me. Together. I don’t care what you are. Just you and me baby.’
She sang a gentle lullaby to her son and rocked her silent charge to sleep.
The nurse on her rounds came in soon after. She took the sleeping child from his drowsy mother and placed him in his cot. She glanced over their notes.
Marion Maria Gateley. Stable, no complications. Just a replenish drip to bring her levels back to normal. Normal Observation.
Peter Frederick Percival Gateley. Paraplegia. Inert from the neck down. Internal functions appear normal. Breathing laboured, but improving. Circulation good. regular Obs.
She checked the baby boy over carefully, nothing amiss. The cot would keep him warm and comfortable and warn her desk if anything changed.
She moved silently out of the room and quietly shut the door.
Bill Gateley sat in his office. He was at work, the child at home with the mother. He looked around his office, this was his home. This was where he was comfortable, this was his familiar. He glanced at the Projection wall. His company logo filling the wall, spinning slowly. He had designed that logo. It was one of the first things he did, designing it at college, it hadn’t changed a bit from the original design. He always new he would have this company. It was always going to be this way. A successful software engineering firm, system wide, multi platform. He was a big boy now and all the right people knew that. He was a player and even governments listened when he spoke. Or rather when he offered to pick up the tab.
A gentle tone filled the room for a moment.
‘Yes?’ He said.
His secretary’s voice came through. ‘Mr Yang for you Bill.’
Mary, his secretary was one of the few subordinates who called him by his first name. But then as even she says, she probably knew more about the state of the company than he did and she had been with him from the start. She was ferociously loyal, and Bill trusted her explicitly. Marion had once challenged him to having an affair before she and Mary had met, to which he just laughed. ‘She’s 62, married with four children with a devoted husband and 4 grand children. She is my secretary, nothing more, nothing less’. And as calculating as he was the only affair he was capable of was with his work.
‘Thanks Mary, put him through.
The holo screen changed to show Charlie Yang his partner in the business, he had kept the ship running whilst Bill had been away with Marion.
‘Hey Bill. Congrats on your new arrival. How is the little blighter.’
‘Good Charles. Good. Coming on nicely.’ Bill didn’t stay on the subject. ‘So how we looking on the Biomech deal.’
Charlie knew better than to dwell on Bills private life. Bill didn’t have a private to have a life in. He had long given up trying to encourage him to go home. Because he never would. He could live for weeks out of his office. He had a bathroom, a wardrobe and a pull out bed there so he was never caught without a clean shirt or unshaven.
‘Looking good. Got the team running the final figures. You checked through the amendments?’
‘Sure. There is nothing that could cause us any problems.’ The sentence hung for a moment. ‘Anybody else interested?’
‘Yea, just a few. The way we got this thing sewn up everyone wants a piece of it. Europa Government is having a look and so is Intercorp. This could be a good one your sitting on here Bill. I can see this running Let’s not make any mistakes eh’.
‘Your saying that to me, Charles?’
‘Yea, sorry, just worried y’know. This is a big deal.’
‘Relax Charles, we’ve checked everything. We have everything covered, from the bio mesh to the interface. You know we have got this own sewn up.’
‘Yea, ok. I know. Ok, I’ll get back to work. Call me if you notice anything ok.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘This is ok isn’t it?’
‘Sure it is Charles, just relax ok. This thing is going to be very good for us.’
Charles hit a button and cut the call leaving Bill the fading impression of a man who had given somebody their last chance to say or do something.
If Bill had recognised it , which he had done, he didn’t show it. Bill was happy now. Back at work. His only true love. Moving figures. Software bundles and packages. Hardwires to the net. That was his playing field. This was where he belonged. This was where he thrived. Big money, big business. His world.
But he had noticed something within the software. Something quite important. Something that it took a lot of looking to find and an intimate knowledge of his own construction techniques and language but it was there never the less. And Charles also knew it was there. But it wasn’t his call, it was Bills. And he had called it. Everything would be just fine.
25 Years later. Europa-1.
Carl Payne flicked his wrist in aggitation. His implant reacted appropriately and produced a gently glowing display projected just above the skin on his wrist.
7.08am. It read.
‘Shit’ He said mainly to himself but some passers by turned to look at him.
He was late.
He hadn’t meant to be late. It had just happened. Like it always seems to do just when you don’t need it to.
He pulled out his mobile. It showed him that he had 4 messages. All from Dillan.
He knew also, without having to listen to them that they would be of Dillan shouting. It’s something Dillan did a lot off. He was a born shouter, it was something you got used to if never completely comfortable with. With Dillan you just learnt to tell the difference between the levels of shouting. Also you took notice of the colour of his face. If it was bright purple and he was spitting blood and the whole office floor was walking around as if on egg shells you turned around and took a week long holiday.
He knew the messages would be escalating in grades from just shouting to a furious shouting.
And to add insult to injury John had actually been up and around since five this morning. He couldn’t sleep last night and had got up early. He had showered and changed into his day wear. Open shirt, smart but loose slacks and soft shoes.
He had then sat at his terminal for a while going through the news.
Pirate raids in the Belt had risen to an all time high.
And talks between the Inner circle and Europa had broken down again. Bloody politicians, they where gunna end up giving us another war. Which might have been exactly what they wanted. The Inner Circle and Europa with it’s Union of Off World Colonies and Population ships had been at each other for years. Earth and Mars where running short on resources to remain competitive with Europa and it’s seemingly unlimited oceans and energy from Jupiter. It’s tapping and harnessing of Io’ seismic and electrical fluctuations. It’s deep space exploration of the Kuiper belt and scout missions into the Ort Cloud. The mining vessels that constantly circled with the Asteroid belt where in a constant state of fraction over mining rights. What would be known as pirate raids where often little disguised attacks from either side. There was a famous case that came before the courts of an Outer Raid on an Inner vessel and all the ‘Pirates’ had done was cover over the insignia designating it as Europan Meteor Class attack vessel. The name was still visible and the transponder codes tied brought it up immediately. It went to the Merchant Civil Code Courts and officially got put down to a Rogue Captain who got a little overzealous in his independent actions. Unofficially though he was one of Europa’s most respected and decorated militia and once he had served a low key and purfunctual term under house arrest in a back water Station orbiting Saturn he was quietly released and after a few years in reclusivity on, ironically, Earth he was back on Europa with new incites on Inner Circle politics and a renewed vigour for active service.
The rest of the news that Carl scanned through was trivia, local highlights, special events and just in –
Another Plug In kid had been found dead in a Chair. A boy, 18 years old.
John frowned, that was the third in two weeks. Small news, not that children dying is a small thing. But a lot of people die in any particular week. And these where just three more that the coroner would be filling out the paperwork for. Although Carl had been following the story as it was an ongoing tagline through the news broadcasts.
He had finished reading and watching the feeds when a call came through from the Precinct. It was Tracy. It was still early even for her but he answered.
‘Yep’.
‘Carl?’ Tracy was Dillan’ private secretary. Her pretty face looming large on the wall screen. Not an entirly unpleasant image with which to start the day.
‘Hello my lovely.’
She was not impressed. ‘Dillan wants you in now.’
‘What’s it he want?’
‘He wants you, as soon as you can’.
‘When exactly?’
She sighed an experienced sigh ‘Carl, He just wants you now’.
‘Ok, ok. Be there by seven’.
‘Be quick John, He’s well pissed’.
‘When isn’t he. Ok. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
‘Thank you Carl. See you in a bit’. And she rang off.
Carl slung on his full-length jacket and hurried out the door. This was going to be fun he thought to himself.
*Authors note. That original piece up above this one don't kinda run chronologically with this new writing. This is the new start rather than the old one above. So I'm gunna keep updating this so long as I don't get into admin trouble or such like. Things might read as a tad familiar. Mainly because them old short story's and this slightly longer affair are based in the same literary universe. It's not the only universe I have but it's the one that is most fruitful for me atm. Like I said, I've come along way with this recently so expect regular updates untill I hit the wall again.
* * * * * * *
In the delivery room the hush was deathly. After the raw emotion that had come before the contrast was startling. The mother lay panting softly, exhausted and confused. Her baby had gone. They had taken her baby away. She lay exhausted on her bed. There was no energy left in her body.
She looked to her husband who was stood next to her holding her hand.
He shook his head, bemused.
‘It’s ok’. Said the midwife. ‘They’ve just taken him for some tests. I’m sure everything is all right, but lets get you cleaned up. Don’t worry, they will tell you soon.’
Silence reigned once again, interrupted only by the gentle remonstrations of the nurses and the quiet sobbing of an exhausted woman.
The baby was back. The room was quiet but this time in a controlled way. The hubbub of a busy maternity ward dulled by thick doors. Mother and son reunited again.
‘It’s not right’. The husband stood silhouetted against the darkened window of the hospital room his arms crossed. The mother lay in bed holding her babe in arms. She cradled him gently in her arms cooing softly.
‘It’s my son. I will look after him.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because he is my child’.
‘Our child Marion. It’s our boy, was our boy. But you have made your feelings obvious.’.
‘Oh no Bill. Please don’t do this’.
‘You didn’t tell me Marion. You didn’t say a word. You kept it hidden from me.’
‘But you would have . . ‘
‘Would have what Marion? What exactly would I have done? The least you could have done was tell me.’
The exhausted mother broke. ‘But you where never there Bill. Never. Never at the scans, never at the CC meetings. I decorated the nursery, I’ve supplied everything this baby needs and what have you given me? Given us? Nothing. You where always too busy with your precious work. Your . . .’ She spat the next word. ‘Company. Never once have you given me reason to think you where at all interested in this baby. Can you blame me for not telling you? I knew exactly what you would have done. You would have made me loose him.’ She looked to the little bundle in her arms. ‘You would have taken away my baby boy.’
He sighed a deep and long sigh. He pushed himself away from the window and opened the heavy door. The harsh light of the corridor shone bright across mother and child. She squinted, the baby nary stirred. He stood for a moment looking out into the corridor.
‘There will be money.’ He said, his back to the room.
‘I don’t want your money’ He heard as he walked away. ‘I just wanted my baby . . .’ The closing heavy door drowned out anything else.
And with that he walked back to his life.
Having heard the raised voices a nurse popped her head into the room.
‘Everything alright love? Can I get you anything?’
‘I’m alright thank you. I have everything I need right here.’
The nurse smiled and left.
Mother sat up cradling her son.
‘Don’t listen to him Baby. I’ll look after you. You and me. Together. I don’t care what you are. Just you and me baby.’
She sang a gentle lullaby to her son and rocked her silent charge to sleep.
The nurse on her rounds came in soon after. She took the sleeping child from his drowsy mother and placed him in his cot. She glanced over their notes.
Marion Maria Gateley. Stable, no complications. Just a replenish drip to bring her levels back to normal. Normal Observation.
Peter Frederick Percival Gateley. Paraplegia. Inert from the neck down. Internal functions appear normal. Breathing laboured, but improving. Circulation good. regular Obs.
She checked the baby boy over carefully, nothing amiss. The cot would keep him warm and comfortable and warn her desk if anything changed.
She moved silently out of the room and quietly shut the door.
Bill Gateley sat in his office. He was at work, the child at home with the mother. He looked around his office, this was his home. This was where he was comfortable, this was his familiar. He glanced at the Projection wall. His company logo filling the wall, spinning slowly. He had designed that logo. It was one of the first things he did, designing it at college, it hadn’t changed a bit from the original design. He always new he would have this company. It was always going to be this way. A successful software engineering firm, system wide, multi platform. He was a big boy now and all the right people knew that. He was a player and even governments listened when he spoke. Or rather when he offered to pick up the tab.
A gentle tone filled the room for a moment.
‘Yes?’ He said.
His secretary’s voice came through. ‘Mr Yang for you Bill.’
Mary, his secretary was one of the few subordinates who called him by his first name. But then as even she says, she probably knew more about the state of the company than he did and she had been with him from the start. She was ferociously loyal, and Bill trusted her explicitly. Marion had once challenged him to having an affair before she and Mary had met, to which he just laughed. ‘She’s 62, married with four children with a devoted husband and 4 grand children. She is my secretary, nothing more, nothing less’. And as calculating as he was the only affair he was capable of was with his work.
‘Thanks Mary, put him through.
The holo screen changed to show Charlie Yang his partner in the business, he had kept the ship running whilst Bill had been away with Marion.
‘Hey Bill. Congrats on your new arrival. How is the little blighter.’
‘Good Charles. Good. Coming on nicely.’ Bill didn’t stay on the subject. ‘So how we looking on the Biomech deal.’
Charlie knew better than to dwell on Bills private life. Bill didn’t have a private to have a life in. He had long given up trying to encourage him to go home. Because he never would. He could live for weeks out of his office. He had a bathroom, a wardrobe and a pull out bed there so he was never caught without a clean shirt or unshaven.
‘Looking good. Got the team running the final figures. You checked through the amendments?’
‘Sure. There is nothing that could cause us any problems.’ The sentence hung for a moment. ‘Anybody else interested?’
‘Yea, just a few. The way we got this thing sewn up everyone wants a piece of it. Europa Government is having a look and so is Intercorp. This could be a good one your sitting on here Bill. I can see this running Let’s not make any mistakes eh’.
‘Your saying that to me, Charles?’
‘Yea, sorry, just worried y’know. This is a big deal.’
‘Relax Charles, we’ve checked everything. We have everything covered, from the bio mesh to the interface. You know we have got this own sewn up.’
‘Yea, ok. I know. Ok, I’ll get back to work. Call me if you notice anything ok.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘This is ok isn’t it?’
‘Sure it is Charles, just relax ok. This thing is going to be very good for us.’
Charles hit a button and cut the call leaving Bill the fading impression of a man who had given somebody their last chance to say or do something.
If Bill had recognised it , which he had done, he didn’t show it. Bill was happy now. Back at work. His only true love. Moving figures. Software bundles and packages. Hardwires to the net. That was his playing field. This was where he belonged. This was where he thrived. Big money, big business. His world.
But he had noticed something within the software. Something quite important. Something that it took a lot of looking to find and an intimate knowledge of his own construction techniques and language but it was there never the less. And Charles also knew it was there. But it wasn’t his call, it was Bills. And he had called it. Everything would be just fine.
25 Years later. Europa-1.
Carl Payne flicked his wrist in aggitation. His implant reacted appropriately and produced a gently glowing display projected just above the skin on his wrist.
7.08am. It read.
‘Shit’ He said mainly to himself but some passers by turned to look at him.
He was late.
He hadn’t meant to be late. It had just happened. Like it always seems to do just when you don’t need it to.
He pulled out his mobile. It showed him that he had 4 messages. All from Dillan.
He knew also, without having to listen to them that they would be of Dillan shouting. It’s something Dillan did a lot off. He was a born shouter, it was something you got used to if never completely comfortable with. With Dillan you just learnt to tell the difference between the levels of shouting. Also you took notice of the colour of his face. If it was bright purple and he was spitting blood and the whole office floor was walking around as if on egg shells you turned around and took a week long holiday.
He knew the messages would be escalating in grades from just shouting to a furious shouting.
And to add insult to injury John had actually been up and around since five this morning. He couldn’t sleep last night and had got up early. He had showered and changed into his day wear. Open shirt, smart but loose slacks and soft shoes.
He had then sat at his terminal for a while going through the news.
Pirate raids in the Belt had risen to an all time high.
And talks between the Inner circle and Europa had broken down again. Bloody politicians, they where gunna end up giving us another war. Which might have been exactly what they wanted. The Inner Circle and Europa with it’s Union of Off World Colonies and Population ships had been at each other for years. Earth and Mars where running short on resources to remain competitive with Europa and it’s seemingly unlimited oceans and energy from Jupiter. It’s tapping and harnessing of Io’ seismic and electrical fluctuations. It’s deep space exploration of the Kuiper belt and scout missions into the Ort Cloud. The mining vessels that constantly circled with the Asteroid belt where in a constant state of fraction over mining rights. What would be known as pirate raids where often little disguised attacks from either side. There was a famous case that came before the courts of an Outer Raid on an Inner vessel and all the ‘Pirates’ had done was cover over the insignia designating it as Europan Meteor Class attack vessel. The name was still visible and the transponder codes tied brought it up immediately. It went to the Merchant Civil Code Courts and officially got put down to a Rogue Captain who got a little overzealous in his independent actions. Unofficially though he was one of Europa’s most respected and decorated militia and once he had served a low key and purfunctual term under house arrest in a back water Station orbiting Saturn he was quietly released and after a few years in reclusivity on, ironically, Earth he was back on Europa with new incites on Inner Circle politics and a renewed vigour for active service.
The rest of the news that Carl scanned through was trivia, local highlights, special events and just in –
Another Plug In kid had been found dead in a Chair. A boy, 18 years old.
John frowned, that was the third in two weeks. Small news, not that children dying is a small thing. But a lot of people die in any particular week. And these where just three more that the coroner would be filling out the paperwork for. Although Carl had been following the story as it was an ongoing tagline through the news broadcasts.
He had finished reading and watching the feeds when a call came through from the Precinct. It was Tracy. It was still early even for her but he answered.
‘Yep’.
‘Carl?’ Tracy was Dillan’ private secretary. Her pretty face looming large on the wall screen. Not an entirly unpleasant image with which to start the day.
‘Hello my lovely.’
She was not impressed. ‘Dillan wants you in now.’
‘What’s it he want?’
‘He wants you, as soon as you can’.
‘When exactly?’
She sighed an experienced sigh ‘Carl, He just wants you now’.
‘Ok, ok. Be there by seven’.
‘Be quick John, He’s well pissed’.
‘When isn’t he. Ok. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
‘Thank you Carl. See you in a bit’. And she rang off.
Carl slung on his full-length jacket and hurried out the door. This was going to be fun he thought to himself.
*Authors note. That original piece up above this one don't kinda run chronologically with this new writing. This is the new start rather than the old one above. So I'm gunna keep updating this so long as I don't get into admin trouble or such like. Things might read as a tad familiar. Mainly because them old short story's and this slightly longer affair are based in the same literary universe. It's not the only universe I have but it's the one that is most fruitful for me atm. Like I said, I've come along way with this recently so expect regular updates untill I hit the wall again.
Last edited by Funnybear, .
'The mechanics had taken the 'Pimp my rally car' suspension settings a little too far.
Cheers hun. Will give those things a go when I get set up again. It just seem odd that I have no problem at all with LFS for years and then allo of a sudden . . . . I shall try and work work it out next time I set up the wheel, which at the moment don't happen very often. But thnx anyway.
That kinda needs slightly more explanation.
can't resolve master server address
Is it me? Or what?
Turned off alll the firewalls I can find. It was working about a month ago and now it won't connect. T'internet working fine, ish. And the title is what the LFS connection screen is telling me. Have searched for answers and done what people have sudgested for other problems but this I can't sus out on my own. . . .
Turned off alll the firewalls I can find. It was working about a month ago and now it won't connect. T'internet working fine, ish. And the title is what the LFS connection screen is telling me. Have searched for answers and done what people have sudgested for other problems but this I can't sus out on my own. . . .
Look at some real world race cars. BTTC for instance and look at the camber they run at. Even F1 you will often see shots of the front wheels heavily cambered.
But whether or not it is truly representative in LFS is fairly arbitary. The Tyre modelling will punish for too much camber so as you don't get a increase in performance with the increase in camber (I.E. you have to find the sweet spot) then questioning it's accuracy is meerly quibling.
But whether or not it is truly representative in LFS is fairly arbitary. The Tyre modelling will punish for too much camber so as you don't get a increase in performance with the increase in camber (I.E. you have to find the sweet spot) then questioning it's accuracy is meerly quibling.
Anyone seen my green cheese? I Left it next to the unicorn and now it's gone. Although the unicorn now has a funny little smile.
Anyone? Anyone seen my green cheese?
Anyone? Anyone seen my green cheese?
+1 on this. Although I always assumed that this was LFS and not the X-system at work here.
You do have to be pretty quick in getting your setup selected. Almost a sub game in itself.
Please read the backposts and the times posted. Todays outage is due to what appears to be an external attack. Becky has two hopes in giving you time when the system will be back up and running. Personally with the day I've had today I will quite happily go and rip this guys motherboard out and shove it so hard down his wind . . . . . sorry. Little carried away.
Good luck Becks. If you garner a rw world address from this attack then just let me know and me and the boy's will go pay him a visit. Free within the UK, abroad, well, our prices are competative.
Good luck Becks. If you garner a rw world address from this attack then just let me know and me and the boy's will go pay him a visit. Free within the UK, abroad, well, our prices are competative.
Having only recenctly come to the Fox's in the CTRA I understand your pain. Everyone has made some very good and considered points. What I would add is don't be afraid to play with the setup.
As you get faster or your understanding of the car handling becomes clearer you will find that your tyres arn't doing what you think they ought to, or that you feel you could do with more downforce in certain sections. Change it! Add some camber to the tyres, take some off, add some front wing, rear wing, take it off. Can't make an apex on a corner when everyone else is and they are going faster than you, play with some suspension settings. (Note on suspension, read some setup guides first. They are really helpful in explaining how car handling dynamics work and what you are doing when you reduce front bounce or rear ARB's)
Adjust the braking strength to take some pressure off flatspotting. Adjust the car to you as much as you adjust your driving to the car. You will find that you will completly mess this up. But thats part of learning. Once you get a handle on it you can make your own sets for your own racing style for every track you race on.
My Blackwood story was the same as you, I was lucky if I was hitting 1.10's with any regularity and just couldn't work it out. I was assuming (the mother of all mistakes) that BW would be a fairly low downforce circuit with that back straight and swooping corners. But, after realising that the cars around me, whilst I was holging my own on the straight they where completly whipping me in the corners. Took me a long time to get to thinking about the downforce because I just didn't factor it in as being as important as it transpired to be. So once I exhausted all my suspension messing about and tyre camber adjusting etc. I eventually reluctanlty raised my downforce. And 'lo the angels sang and I popped in my first 1.09.
So, yes consistency is important, understanding car dynamics is important but it could also be as simple as not having enough downforce for your driving style. (On the fox at least) Learn how to setup. That alone will teach you how to make the cars handling come to you.
As you get faster or your understanding of the car handling becomes clearer you will find that your tyres arn't doing what you think they ought to, or that you feel you could do with more downforce in certain sections. Change it! Add some camber to the tyres, take some off, add some front wing, rear wing, take it off. Can't make an apex on a corner when everyone else is and they are going faster than you, play with some suspension settings. (Note on suspension, read some setup guides first. They are really helpful in explaining how car handling dynamics work and what you are doing when you reduce front bounce or rear ARB's)
Adjust the braking strength to take some pressure off flatspotting. Adjust the car to you as much as you adjust your driving to the car. You will find that you will completly mess this up. But thats part of learning. Once you get a handle on it you can make your own sets for your own racing style for every track you race on.
My Blackwood story was the same as you, I was lucky if I was hitting 1.10's with any regularity and just couldn't work it out. I was assuming (the mother of all mistakes) that BW would be a fairly low downforce circuit with that back straight and swooping corners. But, after realising that the cars around me, whilst I was holging my own on the straight they where completly whipping me in the corners. Took me a long time to get to thinking about the downforce because I just didn't factor it in as being as important as it transpired to be. So once I exhausted all my suspension messing about and tyre camber adjusting etc. I eventually reluctanlty raised my downforce. And 'lo the angels sang and I popped in my first 1.09.
So, yes consistency is important, understanding car dynamics is important but it could also be as simple as not having enough downforce for your driving style. (On the fox at least) Learn how to setup. That alone will teach you how to make the cars handling come to you.
If i remember correctly I searched google with something like 'physics' and 'racing' and here we are.
No social life, a small obsession with toe in and a bad back later and I'm still here, at least, 3 three years later.
No social life, a small obsession with toe in and a bad back later and I'm still here, at least, 3 three years later.
And put out the light . . . There's gunna be some lovin in here tonight . . OoooOOOOoooo, Lalalalaaaaa.
Yes, thankyou. I am more than aware of that. But you can't tell me that when the leader is coming up to lap the third place man that the FIA are going to turn around after the race and say sorry, all those outside the 107% margin set by the fastest lap will not score points . . . there would be outrage and rather than making teams raise their game they will leave the series in droves.
If you want your top flight to be all the same faces all of the time then then your system is perfect. But if you want a good front row, a good mid field and the obligitory backmarkers who are just in it for the ride then surely you need to relax slighty and let peeps like me strive for their moment of glory instead of shooting them down at the pass.
But for all my words I fully realise that in a few months time when someone raises these very same arguements I will be talking the same rhetoric as you good fellows and lasses in that it's purely a case of 'Get Faster!' because by then I will have 'got faster'.
Still, sixth place and no points. Hurumph.
(I do so like a good hurumph. I think everyone should hurumph every once in a while. Try not to follow through though. Painful)
I do fully realise that my wheel going FFB Awol is nothing to do with the System, it's just odd that I can't join when there is only one other car on track. It's not like there is even a race I sit back and enjoy watching. But that is your system, it's cool. Just frustratingly cool.
As for the 108% and all that point scoring requirements how often do you see the sixth place guy in F1 not scoring points because he was outside 108% of the fastest lap. I have watched these fast guys on the CTRA servers and all they need to do is pull out a couple of stunning laps, burn thier tyres to shreds and coast the rest of the way to the finish (Ok,Ok, slight exageration I know, but humour me). I don't race like that, I cant race like that. For me, the setup is all about getting a car to respond to you, not to cook the tyres and to get generally solid lap times. Which I can generally do. Prehaps my racing style is more suited to longer races when the fast guys have blown up their tyres and I can make up ground through consistency and tyre conservation.
Prehaps a look at the median timings for servers will show that the majority of people (Even hugely experianced racers) will consistently fall outside the 108% mark except on their favorite combo's that they are well set up for.
You have stated that you are changing the system slighty so you obviously recognise that there are issues, and like I said, I'm still going to be racing because I will get better and faster and start scoring points. But Nothing for sixth place. Whilst behind logged more points?
Obviously this is all dependant on your target market. And if you want only full time Sim Racers with all the kit and caboodle and uber geekness and inside knowledge of certain indiosyncracies that will give them that edge then alls fine and dandy. But if you want to maintain your position as the largest sim racing community then you possible need to reevaluate your core objectives otherwise people will get bored and wander of. Possible your counter is that is is exactly that that seperates the wheat from the chaff. And in this benign dictatorship I have no bones about that as a stated objective, I am sure you will have countless members who can and will make the grade. But you could loose the title of 'largest'.
But if your cool, then I'm cool.
Although possible not today because I've been working in the sun all day and have possible given myself heatstroke. But, se la vie.
As for the 108% and all that point scoring requirements how often do you see the sixth place guy in F1 not scoring points because he was outside 108% of the fastest lap. I have watched these fast guys on the CTRA servers and all they need to do is pull out a couple of stunning laps, burn thier tyres to shreds and coast the rest of the way to the finish (Ok,Ok, slight exageration I know, but humour me). I don't race like that, I cant race like that. For me, the setup is all about getting a car to respond to you, not to cook the tyres and to get generally solid lap times. Which I can generally do. Prehaps my racing style is more suited to longer races when the fast guys have blown up their tyres and I can make up ground through consistency and tyre conservation.
Prehaps a look at the median timings for servers will show that the majority of people (Even hugely experianced racers) will consistently fall outside the 108% mark except on their favorite combo's that they are well set up for.
You have stated that you are changing the system slighty so you obviously recognise that there are issues, and like I said, I'm still going to be racing because I will get better and faster and start scoring points. But Nothing for sixth place. Whilst behind logged more points?
Obviously this is all dependant on your target market. And if you want only full time Sim Racers with all the kit and caboodle and uber geekness and inside knowledge of certain indiosyncracies that will give them that edge then alls fine and dandy. But if you want to maintain your position as the largest sim racing community then you possible need to reevaluate your core objectives otherwise people will get bored and wander of. Possible your counter is that is is exactly that that seperates the wheat from the chaff. And in this benign dictatorship I have no bones about that as a stated objective, I am sure you will have countless members who can and will make the grade. But you could loose the title of 'largest'.
But if your cool, then I'm cool.
Although possible not today because I've been working in the sun all day and have possible given myself heatstroke. But, se la vie.
Bears thoughts
Becky and gang. Firstly, I think you are doing a great job.
But having just spent a few hours ctra'ing two things have just really frustrated me. Now I know you have a very rigid aim and structure that you want in CTRA and I commend that. But I like to compete and get rewarded for that competing if I do well. I think coming sixth is pretty reasonable. I am never gunna be an alien and I generally doing my own setting up so at best I'm playing catch up. Now, my point (going back to my sixth place) The server changed tracks, which was slightly annoying in itself because I was just fine fettling my setup (This is fox by the way), and when in changed I was placed on pole. Dunno why, my track record with S/S is not great. But there I was on pole. I knew I was never gunna win and I held on to forth untill the final lap where a small backmarker/ Racing incedent occured, dropped me to sixth. Ok. Thats cool. Still a points haul. Score board comes up. I get nuffin. 1st place 14 pts, guy behind me 2 points. Me. Zip, zero. A big fat nothing.
I don't think thats right. I know you have tied the points to best performance and I am sure my license status and the fact I slipped places mean that I scored no points. But I'm a plodder. I don't have the time to get Alien at this game. I want to race and score points and those few points that a low finish gives is enough for me to keep interested. I am (I think) A good, conciderate racer who is generally content to mix it with the mid field, your system is leaving guys like me behind in that we can't progress.
I mean I will be back, don't worry and I'll keep plugging away becuase that's what I'm like. It's just a little peculiar when the guy behind you gets points and you don't. Not even a little number one just to say well done. I just found it very frustrating.
And the other thing was that just after that my connection decided to bum out just as the race was restarting, typical, I thought. Reconnected with the race started, that's cool. I am an avocater of no first lap joining, but on Aston North I was gunna be waiting too long and after the no points thing I threw in the towel and went GTR instead. only one other guy on the server. Pottering around. Cool. Got out in me car, FFB packed up. Sometimes fixed by hoping cars. Switched to one of the others, Pit Lane Closed, car being repaired. Switched back, same deal. Again I understand that in a full race you don't want people messing around with cars but on an empty server with 2 laps of Kyoto Long to go untill our man finishes .. . . A very frustrating night on CTRA.
just my thoughts. Probs said everywhere else. But hey.
Still. Loving your work.
But having just spent a few hours ctra'ing two things have just really frustrated me. Now I know you have a very rigid aim and structure that you want in CTRA and I commend that. But I like to compete and get rewarded for that competing if I do well. I think coming sixth is pretty reasonable. I am never gunna be an alien and I generally doing my own setting up so at best I'm playing catch up. Now, my point (going back to my sixth place) The server changed tracks, which was slightly annoying in itself because I was just fine fettling my setup (This is fox by the way), and when in changed I was placed on pole. Dunno why, my track record with S/S is not great. But there I was on pole. I knew I was never gunna win and I held on to forth untill the final lap where a small backmarker/ Racing incedent occured, dropped me to sixth. Ok. Thats cool. Still a points haul. Score board comes up. I get nuffin. 1st place 14 pts, guy behind me 2 points. Me. Zip, zero. A big fat nothing.
I don't think thats right. I know you have tied the points to best performance and I am sure my license status and the fact I slipped places mean that I scored no points. But I'm a plodder. I don't have the time to get Alien at this game. I want to race and score points and those few points that a low finish gives is enough for me to keep interested. I am (I think) A good, conciderate racer who is generally content to mix it with the mid field, your system is leaving guys like me behind in that we can't progress.
I mean I will be back, don't worry and I'll keep plugging away becuase that's what I'm like. It's just a little peculiar when the guy behind you gets points and you don't. Not even a little number one just to say well done. I just found it very frustrating.
And the other thing was that just after that my connection decided to bum out just as the race was restarting, typical, I thought. Reconnected with the race started, that's cool. I am an avocater of no first lap joining, but on Aston North I was gunna be waiting too long and after the no points thing I threw in the towel and went GTR instead. only one other guy on the server. Pottering around. Cool. Got out in me car, FFB packed up. Sometimes fixed by hoping cars. Switched to one of the others, Pit Lane Closed, car being repaired. Switched back, same deal. Again I understand that in a full race you don't want people messing around with cars but on an empty server with 2 laps of Kyoto Long to go untill our man finishes .. . . A very frustrating night on CTRA.
just my thoughts. Probs said everywhere else. But hey.
Still. Loving your work.
Just a little thing of mine, don't worry 'bout it. I try not too.
You have no idea. Or maybe you do. Lived with your psycho knife wielding anger issues bird? Had kids by your bird? Got yourself an ex 'see above' bird from the very depths of hell itself and yet you have to maintain civility for the kids sake . . . . Yes? Then you have every idea. No? Then you have no idea . . . .
edit - Hey! Where did all my points go?
Sometimes you need to treat a woman how they expect to be treated. That way you can go some way to counteract those days when you get it horrible out of shape and everything you say is just the wrong thing to ever pass the lips of a male of the species. And thus the cosmic balance is maintained.
Dude. Now. I know your work is stupendous, AbFab, great, amazing and any other ingratiating phrases we can think of. But how about some original content. Let me quantify that statement. Surely with your camera and directorial skills, a good voice over artist (There must be a wannabe JC out there somewhere . . . Becky? (Joke. Honest, although . . . . no. Joke. Really)) And some clever wordsmithery there is a community based original project that could knock the white socked sandal wearing old fogyness that is Top Gear. Using ingame cars, using ingame attributes and . . . well, everything ingame really. Surely that is a much higher goal to strive for than just pastiching (Although in a very accomplished way) somebody elses work.
Please don't feel I am belittling your work Donny boy Nibbler son, I too, as I said before, was thouroughly entertained and technically amazing. But we as a community must be able to beat TG at it's own game. Come AWN!!!
Please don't feel I am belittling your work Donny boy Nibbler son, I too, as I said before, was thouroughly entertained and technically amazing. But we as a community must be able to beat TG at it's own game. Come AWN!!!
You see. I knew you'd be aware of it. 'Cause you are amazing that way. I shall never suppose to think you don't know everything ever again, or have reasons behind everything you do . . . . Ever. Ever! Again.
FGED GREDG RDFGDR GSFDG