Back from tour
Feb. 13th, 2005 11:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bobcatmoranWell, that was fun. We toured western Minnesota, with seven performances in three days (four on Friday--ugh). I'm still a bit sick, but I'm over the worst of it now. Low point was when we arrived at Coon Rapids and I ended up spending the performance huddled up in the back of the auditorium, trying to not pass out, lose my breakfast, or both. No love towards the girl who, when asked to show the sick oboist to a bathroom, led me halfway across the school instead of to the bathroom only a few steps outside the auditorium.
On Friday-Saturday night, we stayed in a casino's hotel, since it was the only place within thirty miles of our last gig of the day that could take the entire orchestra and jazz band. I didn't go gambling — casinos are soulless places, and the dead expressions on the people at the slot machines has always frightened me. The hotel room there was pretty nice, and definitely a lot better than the sketchy places we've stayed at on previous tours. Oddly, there was no bible hiding in the nightstand. I guess the Gideons haven't reached the Dakota reservation yet. ^_^
One thing I always like about the tour is that I actually get to know some of my fellow orchestra members. They're more than just the first clarinet or the viola who sits two chairs down. They're people who like Wallace and Gromit, play whist, and are hilariously sarcastic. They're people who you can joke with about burning Haydn's 104th Symphony as soon as we're done playing it for the eleventy-ninth time. They're people who you can go with out onto a frozen stream in 50° weather (or they're people who will stay on shore, going, "You're all nuts!"). And some of them are people who are nice enough to put up with a sick roommate who was probably snoring something awful since her nose was all stuffed up, and for that I thank them.
On a completely different note, I was searching through my hard drive for a buried document, and found my first, unfinished attempt at Rockman fanfic, from back in December 2003.
The camera blinked on with a quiet whirr, revealing a very close-up shot of someone’s hand. The hand retreated, and the autofocus adjusted to reveal a young man — more of a boy, really — wearing a red shirt, sunglasses, and a yellow scarf.
“Wow, I’ve never had to do one of these all by myself before,” he said. There was a pause, then, “Blues, robotics log, November 12, 200X. Doctors Light and Wily are at the 9th Annual International Robotics Conference, along with Rock and Roll, so I am going to be responsible for the daily logs for the next week. Work on the Cutman model is proceeding rapidly. He should be completed by tomorrow, except for inputting the personality matrix, which Doctor Wily made quite clear I am not to do in any way, shape or form.”
The boy turned to look over his shoulder at something just off-screen. “I personally still think that a saw would be more effective than those head-mounted scissors, but,” here his voice took on a slightly mocking tone, “I am just a robot and I should leave the designing to the humans.” Returning to his original, carefuly modulated tone, the robot continued. “The other five robots, the Gutsman, Iceman, Fireman, Elecman, and Bombman models are also near completion, although no nearer than they were yesterday as I chose to focus my efforts on Cutman.”
*******
*Whirrr* “Blues, robotics log, November 17, 200X. Nearly all the constuction which Doctor Light asked me to complete during the conference is finished. There are still a few bugs with the ‘Ice Slasher’ module, but as I see no practical purpose for that particular function, I’m going to leave it for Doctor Wily to deal with. Diagnostic tests are still running on Bombman, and the results should be complete by morning.”
The robot paused, and turned around to look at the lab behind him. “You know, this will probably be the last time I’ll be able to do something like this. After Rock gets back, he’ll be the one helping in the lab, not me. I guess I’ll be moved to full-time weapons testing.” He turned back to the camera. “I’ll probably pop up from time to time in these logs, whenever Wily manages to botch up a design horribly and install it in me anyway.” He smirked. “Probably something like, ‘Robotics log, January 4, 200X. Blues had his right arm blown off while testing some technology for our latest robot, Napalm Man.’” He shook his head, definitely smiling now. “Just kidding. I’m pretty sure that even Wily wouldn’t try something as stupid as designing a robot with bombs in its hands. So, that’s it. The last log entry from Blues.” He reached up, and turned the camera off.
The detective turned to the elderly man who had been watching over his shoulder the whole time. “You’re sure that this is the last anybody saw of him?”
“Yes.”
“That still leaves a gap of nearly 36 hours between then and when you arrived home to find this.” He tapped his finger on the table, near a black chip, the only part of the robot that anybody had been able to find.
“His GPS chip,” the elderly man helpfully supplied. “Normally, I could track him wherever he was, but without that...”
“Well, I’m afraid, Doctor Light, that under the circumstances, there isn’t much we can do. No evidence of foul play, no trace of where the robot could have gone. I’m afraid the chances of you getting your prototype robot back are slim. Sorry we can’t be more help.” The detective left, leaving the doctor staring intently at the GPS chip.
A high-pitched voice piped up from the back of the lab, “So Blues is missing then?”
“Yes, Rock,” the doctor replied.
“Did you check up on the roof? He likes to hide there.”
“Yes, we checked there.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’ll come back soon. Maybe he just wanted to be alone for awhile.”
“Rock, he was alone for an entire week.”
“And maybe he wanted to stay alone.” There was a quiet ping from a computer hooked up to a beaked robot along the right wall. “Hey, the diagnostic is done. Wow, he did a really nice job.”
“What?”
“Doctor Light, you should come see this.” The doctor walked over to the monitor that his latest robot was looking at. Data was scrolling by at a fantastic rate.
“Rock, can you slow that down a bit? Not all of us can read as fast as you.”
“Oops. Sorry.” The robot hit a few keys and the data started to scroll by at a more reasonable rate. “That better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
********
Doctor Wily sighed as he began to pick up the blueprints which Blues had left scattered throughout the lab. The robot may have been many things, but one thing he certainly wasn’t was tidy. He paused to stare at one of the blueprints. Drat. The prototype had been writing critiques on his design plans again. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to leave that robot to work on the new models alone.
“It would be more efficient to put the gyroscopic motor higher up in the torso,” neat, precise handwriting mocked him on the Gutsman model’s plans. “There doesn’t seem to be any practical purpose to installing a freezing projectile in an Antarctic exploration robot,” said another note. Dr. Wily did take some satisfaction in the fact that, despite the notes scrawled across the blueprints, Blues hadn’t taken any liberties to do any of the modifications he had suggested, but still, that robot had been a bit too cocky, too self-confident. Maybe it was a blessing that it was gone.
On Friday-Saturday night, we stayed in a casino's hotel, since it was the only place within thirty miles of our last gig of the day that could take the entire orchestra and jazz band. I didn't go gambling — casinos are soulless places, and the dead expressions on the people at the slot machines has always frightened me. The hotel room there was pretty nice, and definitely a lot better than the sketchy places we've stayed at on previous tours. Oddly, there was no bible hiding in the nightstand. I guess the Gideons haven't reached the Dakota reservation yet. ^_^
One thing I always like about the tour is that I actually get to know some of my fellow orchestra members. They're more than just the first clarinet or the viola who sits two chairs down. They're people who like Wallace and Gromit, play whist, and are hilariously sarcastic. They're people who you can joke with about burning Haydn's 104th Symphony as soon as we're done playing it for the eleventy-ninth time. They're people who you can go with out onto a frozen stream in 50° weather (or they're people who will stay on shore, going, "You're all nuts!"). And some of them are people who are nice enough to put up with a sick roommate who was probably snoring something awful since her nose was all stuffed up, and for that I thank them.
On a completely different note, I was searching through my hard drive for a buried document, and found my first, unfinished attempt at Rockman fanfic, from back in December 2003.
The camera blinked on with a quiet whirr, revealing a very close-up shot of someone’s hand. The hand retreated, and the autofocus adjusted to reveal a young man — more of a boy, really — wearing a red shirt, sunglasses, and a yellow scarf.
“Wow, I’ve never had to do one of these all by myself before,” he said. There was a pause, then, “Blues, robotics log, November 12, 200X. Doctors Light and Wily are at the 9th Annual International Robotics Conference, along with Rock and Roll, so I am going to be responsible for the daily logs for the next week. Work on the Cutman model is proceeding rapidly. He should be completed by tomorrow, except for inputting the personality matrix, which Doctor Wily made quite clear I am not to do in any way, shape or form.”
The boy turned to look over his shoulder at something just off-screen. “I personally still think that a saw would be more effective than those head-mounted scissors, but,” here his voice took on a slightly mocking tone, “I am just a robot and I should leave the designing to the humans.” Returning to his original, carefuly modulated tone, the robot continued. “The other five robots, the Gutsman, Iceman, Fireman, Elecman, and Bombman models are also near completion, although no nearer than they were yesterday as I chose to focus my efforts on Cutman.”
*******
*Whirrr* “Blues, robotics log, November 17, 200X. Nearly all the constuction which Doctor Light asked me to complete during the conference is finished. There are still a few bugs with the ‘Ice Slasher’ module, but as I see no practical purpose for that particular function, I’m going to leave it for Doctor Wily to deal with. Diagnostic tests are still running on Bombman, and the results should be complete by morning.”
The robot paused, and turned around to look at the lab behind him. “You know, this will probably be the last time I’ll be able to do something like this. After Rock gets back, he’ll be the one helping in the lab, not me. I guess I’ll be moved to full-time weapons testing.” He turned back to the camera. “I’ll probably pop up from time to time in these logs, whenever Wily manages to botch up a design horribly and install it in me anyway.” He smirked. “Probably something like, ‘Robotics log, January 4, 200X. Blues had his right arm blown off while testing some technology for our latest robot, Napalm Man.’” He shook his head, definitely smiling now. “Just kidding. I’m pretty sure that even Wily wouldn’t try something as stupid as designing a robot with bombs in its hands. So, that’s it. The last log entry from Blues.” He reached up, and turned the camera off.
The detective turned to the elderly man who had been watching over his shoulder the whole time. “You’re sure that this is the last anybody saw of him?”
“Yes.”
“That still leaves a gap of nearly 36 hours between then and when you arrived home to find this.” He tapped his finger on the table, near a black chip, the only part of the robot that anybody had been able to find.
“His GPS chip,” the elderly man helpfully supplied. “Normally, I could track him wherever he was, but without that...”
“Well, I’m afraid, Doctor Light, that under the circumstances, there isn’t much we can do. No evidence of foul play, no trace of where the robot could have gone. I’m afraid the chances of you getting your prototype robot back are slim. Sorry we can’t be more help.” The detective left, leaving the doctor staring intently at the GPS chip.
A high-pitched voice piped up from the back of the lab, “So Blues is missing then?”
“Yes, Rock,” the doctor replied.
“Did you check up on the roof? He likes to hide there.”
“Yes, we checked there.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’ll come back soon. Maybe he just wanted to be alone for awhile.”
“Rock, he was alone for an entire week.”
“And maybe he wanted to stay alone.” There was a quiet ping from a computer hooked up to a beaked robot along the right wall. “Hey, the diagnostic is done. Wow, he did a really nice job.”
“What?”
“Doctor Light, you should come see this.” The doctor walked over to the monitor that his latest robot was looking at. Data was scrolling by at a fantastic rate.
“Rock, can you slow that down a bit? Not all of us can read as fast as you.”
“Oops. Sorry.” The robot hit a few keys and the data started to scroll by at a more reasonable rate. “That better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
********
Doctor Wily sighed as he began to pick up the blueprints which Blues had left scattered throughout the lab. The robot may have been many things, but one thing he certainly wasn’t was tidy. He paused to stare at one of the blueprints. Drat. The prototype had been writing critiques on his design plans again. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to leave that robot to work on the new models alone.
“It would be more efficient to put the gyroscopic motor higher up in the torso,” neat, precise handwriting mocked him on the Gutsman model’s plans. “There doesn’t seem to be any practical purpose to installing a freezing projectile in an Antarctic exploration robot,” said another note. Dr. Wily did take some satisfaction in the fact that, despite the notes scrawled across the blueprints, Blues hadn’t taken any liberties to do any of the modifications he had suggested, but still, that robot had been a bit too cocky, too self-confident. Maybe it was a blessing that it was gone.
