A Scripta

I had hoped to make this the beginning of a thread on the boards, but it didn't want to go that way. It wanted to go into Rusty's history, and I honestly don't know how he became the way he is.

Gah, you're an idiot, Russ.

He looked at the glass of pure Irish whiskey that spoke to him. "I know," he said quietly. He was 25 years old, out of sync and time, and he had just admitted to someone that he cared about that he cared about her as a person, not as someone to use, just like everyone else he came in contact with.

It was more than money that he would have wanted her for. Companionship, someone to talk to and work with, someone who didn't mind that he didn't wear the same masks as the rest of the crew. Someone who didn't mind his lack of professionalism and military bearing. Someone who called him "normal".

He chuckled at that. It was why he joined the Merchant Marines almost ten years ago. He had taken a North American History course offered in the curricula, and his perceptions were changed. People actually fought over whether or not it was their right to carry a firearm? They fought over whether or not to keep slaves? Didn't they know that it was unnecessary for either a firearm or a slave, that sec-bots and maint-bots covered both functions?

They also fought about politics. North Americans were fiercely independent - that one person, with work and diligence, could surpass all others and return to rule - hopefully benevolently. No working together for the common good, while everyone agreed on the same common sense principles that if all were happy, satisfied, and accepted, then the universe would be at peace.

Russ studied more into North American history. Independence wasn't in his training, but it certainly was in his makeup. He rebelled, violently, taking all of the things he owned and teleporting them to a storage facility, then taking the teleportation key and heading off to the stars.

At the age of 15 he applied his sight to mechanics. Every ship somewhere needed a mechanic, and although he didn't have technical expertise, he was able to see results and how to get there. That and his natural charm, knowing what to say to captains and crews, got him from ship to ship with positive recommendations from all of them.

He looked again at the glass. "Got more to say to me?"

The glass was silent.

"Good," he replied, and drained it.