Dear Mr. Wells,
I am writing to thank you for hooking me up with that now mutual friend of ours. My shipment of Cavorite arrived in the Port today. Rest assured I have it properly shielded and safely secured under The Gangplank Pub in the densely populated Clockhaven district of New Babbage. It should be safe there.
By the way, I understand you have not yet documented the existence of this wonderful substance, and it may be years in fact before you see fit to do so, so I assure you sir, as a fellow amateur scientist and like-minded professional adventurer, I will maintain discretion in the name of brotherhood. If there is one person you can trust with a secret it is Emerson Lighthouse.
Sincerely,
Dr. Emerson Lighthouse.
Retired Knight
PS: Do you mind if I call you Herbert?
I am SO relieved to hear that it’s properly shielded. That means the tingling in my fingers and toes is probably something else entirely.
Perhaps some badly sealed pickles.
Ah, yeah… I was meaning to tell you about that. But look at it this way, Gil sleeps down there a lot and he seems none the worse for wear… he did always look like that, right?
Ohh…sure he did. I caught a glimpse of him last night while I was fetching a bottle of rum from down there and he looked just fine.
(I was quite impressed by how tightly packed all of the crates were, by the way. There was still plenty of room to get to the liquor.)
A simple stacking problem! I can’t see why everyone does not do it that way.
Dibs on the land where the Gangplank used to be.
Oh, goodness… a bit premature, I suppose. Perhaps. Maybe.
I shook it before I packed it… it seems to be stable.
Tones of unstable Cavorite stacked under a building right next to the power station.
Nothing to worry about, business as usual! *nods*
The wrist-comp Spires had formerly worn at all times was just one more reminder of a world he didn’t want to be reminded of anymore, but he kept it safe and checked on it once in awhile.
Out of a matter of interest he was calibrating the internal compass using North Magnetic when he accidentally touched the wrong slider and moved its detector over into the high end of the electromagnetic spectrum.
Something very very dangerous was off the charts over in Clockhaven. Oh well. He recalibrated the compass and went to bed.
“Damned nuisance, Clockhaveners.” he said, before snoring.
It might be prudent to make the Gangplank airtight, as it might be what makes it to Mars?
First Caledon to Babbage and now maybe the fourth planet. That bar really can’t stay put.
*Emerson lighthouse puts down his pen and looks over his latest missive written entirely in Italian.*
My Dear Giovanni,
The maps arrived by courier today. I must say you’ve got quite a talent for capturing detail. And your geological observations match perfectly with what I’ve long suspected… unnatural canals carved in an effort to sustain a dying world (that was you who said that right?). You can clearly see that the island of Thaumasia Felix has been fashioned by a civilized hand.
I must disagree with you on one particular point of technicality however. I do not believe the reddish tinge one observes to be a result of some form of oxidation process on cold, dry desert sands but rather a result of the spores released by the marvelous redcap mushroom thriving in the shadows along the edges of those canals.
As you are undoubtedly aware, I am both a leading expert, and a connoisseur in the study and enjoyment of medicinal plants. I am therefore endeavouring to undertake a fantastic journey in order to collect some samples for the betterment of mankind. And who better to represent mankind than Emerson Lighthouse? Therefore I shall be donning my knightly mantle once more and volunteering the services of my squire… just as soon as I figure out how to finish painting my ship.
Sincerely,
Sir Sir Dr. Emerson Lighthouse, NBE
Interesting neighbourhood I’m moving into :)
Dear Sir Sir,
Operation P.A.T. – an update.
The Toads are slimey and fiddly buggers to tie magnets to but they ‘ave now been suspended floating using magnetic repulsion for two weeks. I ‘ave personally tested their secreations and the experience seems to ‘ave no noticable effect on it’s potency (I did ‘owever discover Miss Falcon, a rainbow and various goblins in my wallpaper).
The Psychotropic Astro-Toad selection program is now underway. Some early candidates ‘ave been ruled out (did you know Toad puke is yellow?) and there was an unfortunate incident on the lilli-pad losing me two more Toads (the next of kin ‘ave been informed).
Competition amongst the remaining Toads is intense and I shall be putting them through a rigorous ‘igh-G simulation process shortly (incidently if you should be navigating the canals and you see me on the roof with my slingshot you might want to don a tin helmet).
Sincerely,
Gadget