I promise I'll get to the next post, titled "Of Dogs and Droids," soon. But first, a serious and annoyingly out-of-character pause.
Upon diagnosis, the five year survival rate for pancreatic cancer is 4%. My coworker's son didn't last nearly that long (I think four months) and died a year ago at the age of 37. His by-all-accounts-excellent doctors were impressed by his "tenacity." This disease also wiped out much of Jimmy Carter's family.
I don't often pimp for charities, but an optimistic five years' warning followed by nonstop suffering (for you and your family) is hard to comprehend. In the unlikely event you have a few extra nickels you don't know what to do with, keep that in mind. Think of what you were doing five years ago, and how short a time that was even if you are in the habit of living each day as if it is your last.
20051229
20051125
It's [coughcough] Day
Some of my happiest childhood memories are of Life Days with my family, but my first Life Day on Tatooine was very lonely. I had just moved here recently, was not having much success as a moisture farmer, and didn't have any friends. I was eating a lot of womp rats in those days, and Life Day that year was no exception. (They're actually very tasty, but they take a long time to clean, especially with all those legs.) That was also the day of my first bad sandstorm, and I didn't have a repulsor field or droid to help me dig out.
Life Day isn't officially celebrated throughout the galaxy any more. The Emperor outlawed it shortly after taking power, claiming that humans shouldn't celebrate a Wookiee animal holiday. (I assume they still celebrate on Kashyyyk, where it originated.) I know many families on Naboo and elsewhere still have an unofficial Life Day celebration around that time, but they don't get a day off from work, and there aren't any greeting cards, new clothes, special sales, or decorations.
Which is very sad, but on the other hand, the whole thing was getting out of control, getting bigger and more stressful every year, with increasing emphasis on spending money, and decreasing emphasis on the true meaning of the holiday, which was just to be grateful for the good things in our lives.
But Life Day barely existed on Tatooine to begin with; Shmi had never even heard of it before Cliegg brought her here from Mos Espa. She didn't know when her birthday was either, so we made an executive decision that we would celebrate her birthday every Life Day. Owen, the budding grouch, thought the whole thing was silly, but Shmi and Cliegg were always happy for an excuse to throw a party. There was also a yearly Pre-Life Day Bake-Off in Mos Eisley, which Kane Darklighter's ancient mother kept winning right up until the last week of her life.
They still have the bake-off; they just call it the Mos Eisley Bake-Off now. But I know it's really the Pre-Life Day Bake-Off. (Beru often wins.)
But no one here talks about or even mentions Life Day by name any more. It's not because it's "illegal"; that word doesn't mean much around here anyway. It's more because it reminds people of a happier time that ended very badly.
Some good times are pleasant to remember. Others just hurt.
So, I said "Happy Life Day" to no one in particular when I woke up this morning. (Yes, One-Onegee is still gone, and so is the dog, about which I still owe you an explanation.) Then I set about my daily business, because let's face it, today isn't Life Day, it's not anything, it's just Thursday, and I never could get the hang of those.
My first errand: to the Darklighters' to check on the fish farm. I'm still not sure it's a great idea, but I signed on anyway. I figure, even if it doesn't work out, I at least ought to get some fresh fish out of the deal. The tanks are under construction and I wanted to ask Kane when he would need the water.
When I got there, I was a little shocked by what I saw: a swarm of Sandpeople. Fortunately, I quickly realized that they were not so much a swarm, as a work crew. "They do great construction," Kane said by way of explanation and non-Life Day greeting. "And they're very reasonable."
I told him I would take his word for it. "But," I asked cautiously, "isn't that a little insensitive to Mary Sue, considering what happened to her parents?"
Kane and Dofi gaped at one another for a moment.
"Huh," Dofi finally said. "Maybe that's why she and Biggs tore out of here in such a huff."
Poor kid.
The Darklighters are odd, in case I didn't mention that before, so I didn't mention Life Day to them. They're not Empire loyalists by any means, but Kane never considered himself a Republican either - it was always very important to him that people knew that he was strictly a Tatooine man and Tatooine was not part of either the Republic or the Empire.
Yeah, whatever. I didn't want to give him any of my icky Republican cooties, so I left and went on to Tosche Station to grab my mail and ask about droids for sale. In addition to Biggs, who was hustling some older boys at pool and definitely trying to grow a mustache, was Mary Sue, who was attempting to flirt with Luke, who was cluelessly ignoring her and pawing through a big box of rusty racing engine parts.
I asked Fixer about the Onegee situation, but no one had mentioned or brought in a medical droid, he didn't have any droids to sell, and he wasn't even sure when the Jawas would be coming around again. He offered to lend me his catalog, but I took one look at the prices inside and decided I was going to have to wait for a used one.
Fixer gave me a hard look, like he was thinking about something. Then he did something strange.
He handed me a cold drink. For free.
"You know, because it's Thursday," he said, with a little shrug.
I forgot. Fixer grew up on one of the core worlds.
"Thanks," I said. "It means a lot."
"Don't mention it," he said. (He probably meant that literally. Giving things away is not something he wants to be known for.) Then a fight broke out in the game room and he had to intervene. I'm guessing Biggs was trying to collect on his bet.
"Hey, J" Luke said, by way of non-Life Day greeting. J is the first initial of my Naboo name. It's actually a Gungan name, long story, but the point is, no one can pronounce it, so they usually call me Sandstormer. Luke is the only person who calls me J. I don't know why.
"I just wanted to thank you again for the dog," Luke gushed. "Aunt Beru loves it too."
"It was nothing," I said, but that wasn't quite true. It was better than nothing. I was relieved not to have the dog around any more. About which I still owe you an explanation, but not right now.
"I just don't know how you even remembered my birthday," he said shyly.
"It's easy to remember. It's just a few weeks before your grandmother's birthday, which was also Life Day. She and her husband would throw a big party, and everyone they knew would come in for dinner or dessert and we would sing and play games..."
Luke looked like he had no idea what I was talking about, and I knew why. Cliegg only lived another year after Shmi was killed. We had a small Life Day/Shmi get-together that year, but that was the last party at the Lars homestead. Beru is a warm and generous person, but she has no interest in entertaining, and Owen is the worst host you can possibly imagine. Luke has never heard of Life Day, is only vaguely aware of the concept of a holiday, and has surely never been to a party like the ones his grandmother organized.
He didn't ask about any of that, though. He just asked me if I remembered much about his grandmother. "Sure," I said. "She and her husband were my best friends."
"I wish I could have met them," he said, mostly to himself. He thanked me again and headed towards the game room, dodging some bruised and angry young men muttering empty threats on their way out the door.
My next stop was the Lars homestead. I wanted to pick up some vegetables for myself and Kenobi.
"Don't say it," Owen warned me, by way of non-Life Day/Shmi's birthday greeting.
"I wasn't going to, but now that you mention it, it's funny, I just talked to Luke at the Station and I mentioned his grandmother, and I got the impression that he didn't know today was her birthday."
Owen didn't seem angry, but he wasn't happy either. "We want Luke to know as little about his family history as possible," Owen said. "Don't want him getting any ideas."
"Owen and I don't agree on this," Beru asserted. "I think Luke would forgive us for overprotecting him, if he knew the truth. But it's hard to talk about. We don't completely understand what happened to his father, and we know even less about his mother. There's so little to tell. We're afraid that it would only make him more curious, and he could get into trouble looking for the answers."
Owen chewed his thumbnail thoughtfully for the next hour while I selected some leafy greens and Beru showed off her almost-ready root vegetable crop. She also threw in a small Devaronian chive plant. "No special reason," she said with a smile.
Owen stopped scowling long enough to say goodbye. "And Sandstormer..."
"Yes?"
"If Luke asks again about Shmi..."
"Hey, it's not for me to tell him about private family-"
"No, no. I was going to say, if he asks again, you know, she was his grandmother. He should know about her. If we try to talk about it, Beru will get upset" - trust me, they'd both get upset - "he'll know there's more, we just can't do it. But if you're willing to do it, it'd be good for the boy."
Wow. Okay.
Next errand: Kenobi's. I see Kenobi every year on this day. Kenobi probably feels the loss of Life Day more keenly than anyone else, given that it was once his duty to protect the Republic, so every Life Day we get together for a small but nice meal for "no special reason" and we pointedly don't talk about old times. It isn't supposed to be a special day, so we pretend it isn't, but we both know it is.
Forty years after leaving Naboo, I still feel weird about running errands and collecting my mail on Life Day. It just doesn't seem right. Everything should be closed. Everyone should be at home with their families.
But I'm sure Kenobi feels a lot worse. It's only been 13 years or so for him.
That speeder bike was there. There was a small portable cooler on the back. I wondered if I had been wrong to assume that I was invited, and wasn't sure if I should go in, but I had more vegetables than I needed, so I decided to bring them, and then if it was awkward, I would excuse myself and leave.
Kenobi was already tipsy when he answered the door. "Hey, Sandstormer!" he cried, by way of non-Life Day greeting. "I'll take these," he said, accepting my bag. "We were just about to have tea and sandwiches."
I kid you not. This guy and his tea. It wasn't awkward in the least, except that his friend was sitting there staring at me. I couldn't tell if he was smiling or not. His face was streaked with red and black markings - I don't know whether they were tattoos or his own coloring. The yellow things on his head that I had once assumed to be tufts of hair were actually horns. Horns!
Then the guy did smile. I could tell because it showed all of his yellow teeth. Or should I say both of them. They were a little messed up. Or maybe he had more than two and I just couldn't see the others because they were black?
"Drag up a rock," the striped man said, indicating a... well, not a chair exactly, more like a box, but it was fine for sitting. Kenobi only owned two chairs, both of which had already been claimed.
"You will not guess what Fil brought for dinner," Kenobi giggled at the counter. He appeared to be fixing me a sandwich, but the preparation seemed to involve giddily waving a big knife around, which made me a little nervous.
"Have some tea," Fil growled, shoving a filled cup at me. "Trust me, it's much better when Kenobi lets me brew it." I felt it might be unwise to refuse, so I took a tentative sip. Then a bigger one. It wasn't too bad.
"Go on, guess what," Kenobi prodded.
I wanted to guess "nerf," because that is the traditional Life Day dinner, but you can't get nerf on Tatooine. Also, I wasn't sure such a direct reference to Life Day would be wise, even with him in such a good mood.
"Chickenbutt," I guessed, referring to a childhood joke.
"Nerf!" Kenobi cried triumphantly, bringing a tray of sandwiches to the table. "Well, processed nerf slices, but it's more nerf than not. Oh, by the way, this is Fil."
"I figured," I said, accepting a large sandwich gratefully. Apparently, in that short time, he had managed to wash and slice some salad greens for the sandwiches, so that's what all that knifework was about.
"Oh," I said after my first bite. I was at a loss for additional words. Then I managed to scrape together a few more words. "It's been, like, forty years I guess. I haven't had nerf since I was a kid. I actually thought maybe they had even outlawed it."
"Not on Kashyyyk," Fil grinned. A fleck of salad green seemed to float in the empty space between his lips, confirming my black-tooth theory.
Impressive. It's a long way between Kashyyyk and here. A very long way.
"Fil is a courier of sorts," Ben explained. I had a pretty good idea what "of sorts" meant. I figured he was probably a smuggler, but I don't know what he could smuggle in that odd little ship. Certainly not regular cargo.
"I can't believe how good that is," I said.
Fil laughed. Really laughed. Howled.
"I know what you're thinking about," Ben said. "Qui-Gon."
"I wish I had brought a camera," Fil wheezed, breathless with mirth. "The look on your face."
"The look on Bill's face. He didn't have a clue."
"The look on Dartha's face!"
"It was pure coincidence that we both showed up to the same Life Day dinner," Ben explained. I'm not sure how a Life Day dinner can be a coincidence, but whatever. "It was a very elegant affair at a major celebrity's home. Fil had brought a freshly killed nerf and was preparing it for us in the kitchen."
He paused for a moment, picturing the scene. I was trying to picture it myself - Fil cooking dinner for an elegant celebrity. No picture was forming. I drank some more tea and started on my second sandwich. I was incredibly hungry.
"Qui-Gon, my master, showed up unexpectedly," Ben continued. None of his story was making any sense. "Drunk. He was drunk. And/or stoned. He brought a package of processed nerf slices just like these and a loaf of nasty super-bleached white bread. He complained about M-, uh, Fil's nerf steaks and then demanded mustard for his sandwich."
What do you say to a story like that? "I guess times have changed."
"Yeah," Ben said, lapsing into a momentary funk. "I thought I was having a bad day then, but if I had known then what I'd be doing, what, 25, 30 years later...." He shrugged morosely. "You never appreciate what you have. I would have treasured that moment."
"You would have been miserable," Fil said, and went outside.
Fil was right, of course. Whatever self-pity Ben had been feeling on that long-ago day would only have been worse if he had known that he'd someday be grateful for processed nerf slices. Not to mention all the other things that had transpired in the intervening years. I know that would have ruined Life Day for me.
"By the way, I found these in your bag," Ben said, handing me my mail. I'd inadvertently given him my bag instead of his. That was okay - they were the same, except for the chives, but I knew Ben hated those, so he'd give them back. "Looks like you got some news about your droid?"
I hadn't actually looked at my mail before, and I was scanning the envelopes when Fil returned with a box. I was surprised to see a letter from SORAS Cybernetics - One-Onegee's manufacturer.
"Go on," Ben encouraged.
I opened the letter. It was dated a few months ago - before Onegee even ran away. Mail service in these parts isn't the greatest.
While I was reading all of that with my mouth hanging open, Fil and Ben continued to relive that Life Day of yore. Apparently, the cheesecake Fil had just carried in was exactly like the one that Ben's sister had thrown at Qui-Gon as punishment for tacky behavior.
I tasted the cake. It was excellent. I could not remember ever enjoying any meal as much as I was enjoying that one. It was starting to get dark, though, and I needed to get home. I stood up to leave.
Ben offered me some tea to take home. I shook my head. "I've got plenty," I said. "And I'll be honest, it doesn't taste anything like this when I try to make it at home, and I'm not crazy about it."
Fil laughed again. "Does anyone drink this stuff for the taste? Anyway, if you don't like drinking it, you can always smoke it."
Well. That explained a lot! This time, I was truly speechless. I felt like the biggest idiot in the galaxy. More so, because I just realized I was stoned off my ass.
I took my mail, my chives, my own bag of vegetables, another sandwich Ben made for me, and said my goodbyes. I started wishing Ben and Fil a Happy Life Day, but Ben broke in before I could finish - "That doesn't exist any more. Let's not dwell on the happy past. We need to do our duty now for the future."
What a strange thing to say, after reminiscing for hours! But I just shrugged and said thank you and went home.
And now, here I am, alone in my little house just like that first lonely Life Day 40 years ago. And now, as I've done every Life Day since Cliegg died, I come home from the day's errands, lock the door, look around the room, and say to no one in particular, a little sheepishly, so quietly you can barely hear me:
Life Day isn't officially celebrated throughout the galaxy any more. The Emperor outlawed it shortly after taking power, claiming that humans shouldn't celebrate a Wookiee animal holiday. (I assume they still celebrate on Kashyyyk, where it originated.) I know many families on Naboo and elsewhere still have an unofficial Life Day celebration around that time, but they don't get a day off from work, and there aren't any greeting cards, new clothes, special sales, or decorations.
Which is very sad, but on the other hand, the whole thing was getting out of control, getting bigger and more stressful every year, with increasing emphasis on spending money, and decreasing emphasis on the true meaning of the holiday, which was just to be grateful for the good things in our lives.
But Life Day barely existed on Tatooine to begin with; Shmi had never even heard of it before Cliegg brought her here from Mos Espa. She didn't know when her birthday was either, so we made an executive decision that we would celebrate her birthday every Life Day. Owen, the budding grouch, thought the whole thing was silly, but Shmi and Cliegg were always happy for an excuse to throw a party. There was also a yearly Pre-Life Day Bake-Off in Mos Eisley, which Kane Darklighter's ancient mother kept winning right up until the last week of her life.
They still have the bake-off; they just call it the Mos Eisley Bake-Off now. But I know it's really the Pre-Life Day Bake-Off. (Beru often wins.)
But no one here talks about or even mentions Life Day by name any more. It's not because it's "illegal"; that word doesn't mean much around here anyway. It's more because it reminds people of a happier time that ended very badly.
Some good times are pleasant to remember. Others just hurt.
So, I said "Happy Life Day" to no one in particular when I woke up this morning. (Yes, One-Onegee is still gone, and so is the dog, about which I still owe you an explanation.) Then I set about my daily business, because let's face it, today isn't Life Day, it's not anything, it's just Thursday, and I never could get the hang of those.
My first errand: to the Darklighters' to check on the fish farm. I'm still not sure it's a great idea, but I signed on anyway. I figure, even if it doesn't work out, I at least ought to get some fresh fish out of the deal. The tanks are under construction and I wanted to ask Kane when he would need the water.
When I got there, I was a little shocked by what I saw: a swarm of Sandpeople. Fortunately, I quickly realized that they were not so much a swarm, as a work crew. "They do great construction," Kane said by way of explanation and non-Life Day greeting. "And they're very reasonable."
I told him I would take his word for it. "But," I asked cautiously, "isn't that a little insensitive to Mary Sue, considering what happened to her parents?"
Kane and Dofi gaped at one another for a moment.
"Huh," Dofi finally said. "Maybe that's why she and Biggs tore out of here in such a huff."
Poor kid.
The Darklighters are odd, in case I didn't mention that before, so I didn't mention Life Day to them. They're not Empire loyalists by any means, but Kane never considered himself a Republican either - it was always very important to him that people knew that he was strictly a Tatooine man and Tatooine was not part of either the Republic or the Empire.
Yeah, whatever. I didn't want to give him any of my icky Republican cooties, so I left and went on to Tosche Station to grab my mail and ask about droids for sale. In addition to Biggs, who was hustling some older boys at pool and definitely trying to grow a mustache, was Mary Sue, who was attempting to flirt with Luke, who was cluelessly ignoring her and pawing through a big box of rusty racing engine parts.
I asked Fixer about the Onegee situation, but no one had mentioned or brought in a medical droid, he didn't have any droids to sell, and he wasn't even sure when the Jawas would be coming around again. He offered to lend me his catalog, but I took one look at the prices inside and decided I was going to have to wait for a used one.
Fixer gave me a hard look, like he was thinking about something. Then he did something strange.
He handed me a cold drink. For free.
"You know, because it's Thursday," he said, with a little shrug.
I forgot. Fixer grew up on one of the core worlds.
"Thanks," I said. "It means a lot."
"Don't mention it," he said. (He probably meant that literally. Giving things away is not something he wants to be known for.) Then a fight broke out in the game room and he had to intervene. I'm guessing Biggs was trying to collect on his bet.
"Hey, J" Luke said, by way of non-Life Day greeting. J is the first initial of my Naboo name. It's actually a Gungan name, long story, but the point is, no one can pronounce it, so they usually call me Sandstormer. Luke is the only person who calls me J. I don't know why.
"I just wanted to thank you again for the dog," Luke gushed. "Aunt Beru loves it too."
"It was nothing," I said, but that wasn't quite true. It was better than nothing. I was relieved not to have the dog around any more. About which I still owe you an explanation, but not right now.
"I just don't know how you even remembered my birthday," he said shyly.
"It's easy to remember. It's just a few weeks before your grandmother's birthday, which was also Life Day. She and her husband would throw a big party, and everyone they knew would come in for dinner or dessert and we would sing and play games..."
Luke looked like he had no idea what I was talking about, and I knew why. Cliegg only lived another year after Shmi was killed. We had a small Life Day/Shmi get-together that year, but that was the last party at the Lars homestead. Beru is a warm and generous person, but she has no interest in entertaining, and Owen is the worst host you can possibly imagine. Luke has never heard of Life Day, is only vaguely aware of the concept of a holiday, and has surely never been to a party like the ones his grandmother organized.
He didn't ask about any of that, though. He just asked me if I remembered much about his grandmother. "Sure," I said. "She and her husband were my best friends."
"I wish I could have met them," he said, mostly to himself. He thanked me again and headed towards the game room, dodging some bruised and angry young men muttering empty threats on their way out the door.
My next stop was the Lars homestead. I wanted to pick up some vegetables for myself and Kenobi.
"Don't say it," Owen warned me, by way of non-Life Day/Shmi's birthday greeting.
"I wasn't going to, but now that you mention it, it's funny, I just talked to Luke at the Station and I mentioned his grandmother, and I got the impression that he didn't know today was her birthday."
Owen didn't seem angry, but he wasn't happy either. "We want Luke to know as little about his family history as possible," Owen said. "Don't want him getting any ideas."
"Owen and I don't agree on this," Beru asserted. "I think Luke would forgive us for overprotecting him, if he knew the truth. But it's hard to talk about. We don't completely understand what happened to his father, and we know even less about his mother. There's so little to tell. We're afraid that it would only make him more curious, and he could get into trouble looking for the answers."
Owen chewed his thumbnail thoughtfully for the next hour while I selected some leafy greens and Beru showed off her almost-ready root vegetable crop. She also threw in a small Devaronian chive plant. "No special reason," she said with a smile.
Owen stopped scowling long enough to say goodbye. "And Sandstormer..."
"Yes?"
"If Luke asks again about Shmi..."
"Hey, it's not for me to tell him about private family-"
"No, no. I was going to say, if he asks again, you know, she was his grandmother. He should know about her. If we try to talk about it, Beru will get upset" - trust me, they'd both get upset - "he'll know there's more, we just can't do it. But if you're willing to do it, it'd be good for the boy."
Wow. Okay.
Next errand: Kenobi's. I see Kenobi every year on this day. Kenobi probably feels the loss of Life Day more keenly than anyone else, given that it was once his duty to protect the Republic, so every Life Day we get together for a small but nice meal for "no special reason" and we pointedly don't talk about old times. It isn't supposed to be a special day, so we pretend it isn't, but we both know it is.
Forty years after leaving Naboo, I still feel weird about running errands and collecting my mail on Life Day. It just doesn't seem right. Everything should be closed. Everyone should be at home with their families.
But I'm sure Kenobi feels a lot worse. It's only been 13 years or so for him.
That speeder bike was there. There was a small portable cooler on the back. I wondered if I had been wrong to assume that I was invited, and wasn't sure if I should go in, but I had more vegetables than I needed, so I decided to bring them, and then if it was awkward, I would excuse myself and leave.
Kenobi was already tipsy when he answered the door. "Hey, Sandstormer!" he cried, by way of non-Life Day greeting. "I'll take these," he said, accepting my bag. "We were just about to have tea and sandwiches."
I kid you not. This guy and his tea. It wasn't awkward in the least, except that his friend was sitting there staring at me. I couldn't tell if he was smiling or not. His face was streaked with red and black markings - I don't know whether they were tattoos or his own coloring. The yellow things on his head that I had once assumed to be tufts of hair were actually horns. Horns!
Then the guy did smile. I could tell because it showed all of his yellow teeth. Or should I say both of them. They were a little messed up. Or maybe he had more than two and I just couldn't see the others because they were black?
"Drag up a rock," the striped man said, indicating a... well, not a chair exactly, more like a box, but it was fine for sitting. Kenobi only owned two chairs, both of which had already been claimed.
"You will not guess what Fil brought for dinner," Kenobi giggled at the counter. He appeared to be fixing me a sandwich, but the preparation seemed to involve giddily waving a big knife around, which made me a little nervous.
"Have some tea," Fil growled, shoving a filled cup at me. "Trust me, it's much better when Kenobi lets me brew it." I felt it might be unwise to refuse, so I took a tentative sip. Then a bigger one. It wasn't too bad.
"Go on, guess what," Kenobi prodded.
I wanted to guess "nerf," because that is the traditional Life Day dinner, but you can't get nerf on Tatooine. Also, I wasn't sure such a direct reference to Life Day would be wise, even with him in such a good mood.
"Chickenbutt," I guessed, referring to a childhood joke.
"Nerf!" Kenobi cried triumphantly, bringing a tray of sandwiches to the table. "Well, processed nerf slices, but it's more nerf than not. Oh, by the way, this is Fil."
"I figured," I said, accepting a large sandwich gratefully. Apparently, in that short time, he had managed to wash and slice some salad greens for the sandwiches, so that's what all that knifework was about.
"Oh," I said after my first bite. I was at a loss for additional words. Then I managed to scrape together a few more words. "It's been, like, forty years I guess. I haven't had nerf since I was a kid. I actually thought maybe they had even outlawed it."
"Not on Kashyyyk," Fil grinned. A fleck of salad green seemed to float in the empty space between his lips, confirming my black-tooth theory.
Impressive. It's a long way between Kashyyyk and here. A very long way.
"Fil is a courier of sorts," Ben explained. I had a pretty good idea what "of sorts" meant. I figured he was probably a smuggler, but I don't know what he could smuggle in that odd little ship. Certainly not regular cargo.
"I can't believe how good that is," I said.
Fil laughed. Really laughed. Howled.
"I know what you're thinking about," Ben said. "Qui-Gon."
"I wish I had brought a camera," Fil wheezed, breathless with mirth. "The look on your face."
"The look on Bill's face. He didn't have a clue."
"The look on Dartha's face!"
"It was pure coincidence that we both showed up to the same Life Day dinner," Ben explained. I'm not sure how a Life Day dinner can be a coincidence, but whatever. "It was a very elegant affair at a major celebrity's home. Fil had brought a freshly killed nerf and was preparing it for us in the kitchen."
He paused for a moment, picturing the scene. I was trying to picture it myself - Fil cooking dinner for an elegant celebrity. No picture was forming. I drank some more tea and started on my second sandwich. I was incredibly hungry.
"Qui-Gon, my master, showed up unexpectedly," Ben continued. None of his story was making any sense. "Drunk. He was drunk. And/or stoned. He brought a package of processed nerf slices just like these and a loaf of nasty super-bleached white bread. He complained about M-, uh, Fil's nerf steaks and then demanded mustard for his sandwich."
What do you say to a story like that? "I guess times have changed."
"Yeah," Ben said, lapsing into a momentary funk. "I thought I was having a bad day then, but if I had known then what I'd be doing, what, 25, 30 years later...." He shrugged morosely. "You never appreciate what you have. I would have treasured that moment."
"You would have been miserable," Fil said, and went outside.
Fil was right, of course. Whatever self-pity Ben had been feeling on that long-ago day would only have been worse if he had known that he'd someday be grateful for processed nerf slices. Not to mention all the other things that had transpired in the intervening years. I know that would have ruined Life Day for me.
"By the way, I found these in your bag," Ben said, handing me my mail. I'd inadvertently given him my bag instead of his. That was okay - they were the same, except for the chives, but I knew Ben hated those, so he'd give them back. "Looks like you got some news about your droid?"
I hadn't actually looked at my mail before, and I was scanning the envelopes when Fil returned with a box. I was surprised to see a letter from SORAS Cybernetics - One-Onegee's manufacturer.
"Go on," Ben encouraged.
I opened the letter. It was dated a few months ago - before Onegee even ran away. Mail service in these parts isn't the greatest.
Dear J. Sandstormer,I also noticed, among my mail, a letter from a law firm on Coruscant stamped "Attention - SORAS customer!". I read that one too. It was dated about a week after the SORAS letter and advised me that if I took SORAS up on their offer of a new droid, I wouldn't be eligible for the class action lawsuit.
According to our records, you are the registered owner of a One-Onegee medical assistant droid.
We are writing to inform you of a potential problem with your droid. It has come to our attention that some of our One-series droids were programmed with malicious code which may cause them to malfunction exactly thirty Coruscant years after their date of manufacture. We want to assure you that your droid will not harm others; however, it may fail to perform crucial life-saving functions.
Therefore, for safety, we advise you to deactivate your droid immediately and remove its power supply. Disassemble the droid and place it in a sturdy shipping container. Use the provided prepaid label to return the droid to us for our research.
Our records show that you are not the original owner of the droid and have not purchased an extended warranty. Although it is normally not our policy for droids that are out of warranty, we take pride in the quality of our products and want to regain your confidence as a loyal customer. We are offering you a credit of up to 10,000 towards a new SORAS droid. Please visit one of our showrooms, or see our online catalog, to place an order at your earliest possible convenience. We will also pay for shipping of your new droid upon receipt of your old droid.
Again, we assure you that your droid does not pose any threat to your safety. However, to ensure your satisfaction, we urge you to exchange your droid as soon as possible.
Thank you in advance for your trust in us. We value your loyalty highly.
Sincerely,
SORAS Cybernetics
While I was reading all of that with my mouth hanging open, Fil and Ben continued to relive that Life Day of yore. Apparently, the cheesecake Fil had just carried in was exactly like the one that Ben's sister had thrown at Qui-Gon as punishment for tacky behavior.
I tasted the cake. It was excellent. I could not remember ever enjoying any meal as much as I was enjoying that one. It was starting to get dark, though, and I needed to get home. I stood up to leave.
Ben offered me some tea to take home. I shook my head. "I've got plenty," I said. "And I'll be honest, it doesn't taste anything like this when I try to make it at home, and I'm not crazy about it."
Fil laughed again. "Does anyone drink this stuff for the taste? Anyway, if you don't like drinking it, you can always smoke it."
Well. That explained a lot! This time, I was truly speechless. I felt like the biggest idiot in the galaxy. More so, because I just realized I was stoned off my ass.
I took my mail, my chives, my own bag of vegetables, another sandwich Ben made for me, and said my goodbyes. I started wishing Ben and Fil a Happy Life Day, but Ben broke in before I could finish - "That doesn't exist any more. Let's not dwell on the happy past. We need to do our duty now for the future."
What a strange thing to say, after reminiscing for hours! But I just shrugged and said thank you and went home.
And now, here I am, alone in my little house just like that first lonely Life Day 40 years ago. And now, as I've done every Life Day since Cliegg died, I come home from the day's errands, lock the door, look around the room, and say to no one in particular, a little sheepishly, so quietly you can barely hear me:
Happy Life Day!
20051107
The Runaway Robot and other adventures
I have so much to say, but thanks to the solar flares (very bad this time of year), have had trouble getting online. Forget the fish farm and the dog and Luke's birthday: this one has to come first. It's an emergency.
Onegee has run away. I'm pretty sure of it. I can't afford to deal with this right now.
I don't think he was stolen. He was working on a vaporator and I quickly went back to the house to get some parts. It only took a few minutes. I came back and he was gone. Just the one set of footprints. No tracks, no treads, no other signs of him or anyone else.
I followed the tracks for a while, but the wind kicked up and erased them before I had gone very far. He seemed to have been going in a straight line, towards nothing in particular. I had to complete the adjustments on the vaporator myself. My hands aren't completely useless, but it does take me a lot longer, and it was dark by the time I got home.
I asked around and even posted a reward, but I am not getting my hopes up.
Droids, especially the newer models, typically do not run away from their owners. It is more common in older models, not only because of the older technology, but also because wear and tear makes them unreliable. Usually, it is a memory problem. The droid thinks it belongs to someone else - a previous owner.
Sometimes, ownership isn't transferred properly, and then the droid isn't sure who it belongs to. Or, a previous owner may have uploaded illegal programming which causes the droid to run away from all subsequent owners, or something like that.
I've had Onegee for a long time, and he doesn't seem to miss the Jawas, and he doesn't even remember his previous owner (probably thanks to the Jawas), so there's only one other plausible explanation, which I only just now thought of.
He's probably gone mad. That's very rare nowadays, but it's not impossible. A mad droid tends to take off without provocation and then behave unpredictably - very often violently - until its power runs down or it is destroyed.
I can't imagine Onegee being violent, but that's the thing with mad droids. There's no telling what they might do. If he is mad, and if he does something terrible, I will be liable for whatever happens, because I am the registered owner.
Uh-oh.
I wonder if madness is a known problem with the One-Onegee. If it is, I may (possibly) be eligible for a rebate or something. I'll email the manufacturer, but it may take a while to get a reply, so I guess I need to go back into town and report him.
I was going out tomorrow anyway, to vote for a new mayor. The existing mayor, a guy named Kahless, claims to have been a great warrior in his own time and galaxy, but on Tatooine he is just a boob, in my opinion. He has been mayor for eight years, each one worse than the one before it. I am going to get up extra-early to make sure I get my vote in. You betcha.
Onegee has run away. I'm pretty sure of it. I can't afford to deal with this right now.
I don't think he was stolen. He was working on a vaporator and I quickly went back to the house to get some parts. It only took a few minutes. I came back and he was gone. Just the one set of footprints. No tracks, no treads, no other signs of him or anyone else.
I followed the tracks for a while, but the wind kicked up and erased them before I had gone very far. He seemed to have been going in a straight line, towards nothing in particular. I had to complete the adjustments on the vaporator myself. My hands aren't completely useless, but it does take me a lot longer, and it was dark by the time I got home.
I asked around and even posted a reward, but I am not getting my hopes up.
Droids, especially the newer models, typically do not run away from their owners. It is more common in older models, not only because of the older technology, but also because wear and tear makes them unreliable. Usually, it is a memory problem. The droid thinks it belongs to someone else - a previous owner.
Sometimes, ownership isn't transferred properly, and then the droid isn't sure who it belongs to. Or, a previous owner may have uploaded illegal programming which causes the droid to run away from all subsequent owners, or something like that.
I've had Onegee for a long time, and he doesn't seem to miss the Jawas, and he doesn't even remember his previous owner (probably thanks to the Jawas), so there's only one other plausible explanation, which I only just now thought of.
He's probably gone mad. That's very rare nowadays, but it's not impossible. A mad droid tends to take off without provocation and then behave unpredictably - very often violently - until its power runs down or it is destroyed.
I can't imagine Onegee being violent, but that's the thing with mad droids. There's no telling what they might do. If he is mad, and if he does something terrible, I will be liable for whatever happens, because I am the registered owner.
Uh-oh.
I wonder if madness is a known problem with the One-Onegee. If it is, I may (possibly) be eligible for a rebate or something. I'll email the manufacturer, but it may take a while to get a reply, so I guess I need to go back into town and report him.
I was going out tomorrow anyway, to vote for a new mayor. The existing mayor, a guy named Kahless, claims to have been a great warrior in his own time and galaxy, but on Tatooine he is just a boob, in my opinion. He has been mayor for eight years, each one worse than the one before it. I am going to get up extra-early to make sure I get my vote in. You betcha.
20051007
Go Fish
It's a cruel irony that as life gets more interesting, there's less time to blog. Here's what's been happening:
A few days after our evening in Mos Eisley, Kenobi sheepishly inquired as to how much he'd told me. "Pretty much everything," I told him, but reassured him that since I couldn't remember any of it clearly, I'd be unable to blackmail him.
For a while, I did entertain a suspicion that he might be Luke's real father, but there are a lot of reasons that's crazy: for one thing, I don't think he's ever had a girlfriend, and for another, why would he ask Beru and Owen to raise his own child, but then stay on the same planet? He'd either raise the kid himself, or leave him on another planet so they can't be found together. Wouldn't you think?
Anyway, my answer seemed to satisfy him. I had come by to offer him another ride into Mos Eisley; I decided to take care of the droid registration while it was still fresh in my mind, and Kenobi's sort of on the way if I take just a slight detour. (Am I a genius? I said, "Onegee, what's the easiest way for me to get to your number plate," and he removed it himself and handed it to me. Kind of a smartass, for a droid that doesn't talk much.)
Kenobi told me that today was not a good day for me to go to Mos Eisley, and that I should go tomorrow, but he'd be busy himself.
"I'll go alone tomorrow," I agreed, and bought yet another can of that #@&% tea and went home, still a little confused.
Next day I went to Mos Eisley, and found out that the building the Imperials had been using for offices was firebombed and imploded. Unfortunately, no bureaucrats were injured - they had gone to Thee Hutt Hut for an "offsite meeting."
(Why do I have a feeling that if I had swung by Kenobi's on the way home, I would have seen an ashy speeder bike outside? Never mind.)
In other news, Kane has approached me about going in on a fish farm with him, Owen has reluctantly switched to Jedix, and Beru once again smoked her competition at the pre-Life Day bake-off with her cabbage stew.
A few days after our evening in Mos Eisley, Kenobi sheepishly inquired as to how much he'd told me. "Pretty much everything," I told him, but reassured him that since I couldn't remember any of it clearly, I'd be unable to blackmail him.
For a while, I did entertain a suspicion that he might be Luke's real father, but there are a lot of reasons that's crazy: for one thing, I don't think he's ever had a girlfriend, and for another, why would he ask Beru and Owen to raise his own child, but then stay on the same planet? He'd either raise the kid himself, or leave him on another planet so they can't be found together. Wouldn't you think?
Anyway, my answer seemed to satisfy him. I had come by to offer him another ride into Mos Eisley; I decided to take care of the droid registration while it was still fresh in my mind, and Kenobi's sort of on the way if I take just a slight detour. (Am I a genius? I said, "Onegee, what's the easiest way for me to get to your number plate," and he removed it himself and handed it to me. Kind of a smartass, for a droid that doesn't talk much.)
Kenobi told me that today was not a good day for me to go to Mos Eisley, and that I should go tomorrow, but he'd be busy himself.
"I'll go alone tomorrow," I agreed, and bought yet another can of that #@&% tea and went home, still a little confused.
Next day I went to Mos Eisley, and found out that the building the Imperials had been using for offices was firebombed and imploded. Unfortunately, no bureaucrats were injured - they had gone to Thee Hutt Hut for an "offsite meeting."
(Why do I have a feeling that if I had swung by Kenobi's on the way home, I would have seen an ashy speeder bike outside? Never mind.)
In other news, Kane has approached me about going in on a fish farm with him, Owen has reluctantly switched to Jedix, and Beru once again smoked her competition at the pre-Life Day bake-off with her cabbage stew.
20050919
On the arrest of the Emperor's nephew
I try not to pay much attention to these things, but sometimes a news story catches my eye.
Some time ago, both of the Emperor's daughters narrowly escaped arrest and received misdemeanor citations. The Emperor himself was arrested most recently for drunken piloting, long before he entered political life (he has a couple of disorderlies as well), and there is documented proof that his military obligations to the Republic were fulfilled administratively only and not in fact. His powerful (if ultimately less accomplished) father did a good job of keeping these facts from interfering with his career.
The Emperor's brother, the Viceroy Jebronius of Geonosis, has never been arrested that I know of, but his son Georgrious was accused of B&E and escaped arrest only because the victim declined to press charges. The Viceroy's daughter Nouitelle got busted a few years ago (causing her to miss her first day of work at an excellent job that was obtained solely through her family's influence, and subsequently withdrawn), and now son Jebronius E. has been arrested as well.
Nobody's perfect and Force knows I would probably have at least one substance abuse problem or conduct disorder if I were a member of that family. But next time someone starts gushing about the Palpatines and family values and lamenting the loose morals of those who do not worship at the Palpatine altar, I will ask that person how many of his or her close relatives have had to enter pleas, whether or not they feel that's reflective of their own family's values, how does that compare to the Palpatine family's prison record, and whether they think making bail is more of a family-oriented rite of passage for Empire loyalists, or for rebels and Jedi scum.
I'll grant you, some great people have been arrested too, but those arrests weren't the result of being spoiled brats.
Some time ago, both of the Emperor's daughters narrowly escaped arrest and received misdemeanor citations. The Emperor himself was arrested most recently for drunken piloting, long before he entered political life (he has a couple of disorderlies as well), and there is documented proof that his military obligations to the Republic were fulfilled administratively only and not in fact. His powerful (if ultimately less accomplished) father did a good job of keeping these facts from interfering with his career.
The Emperor's brother, the Viceroy Jebronius of Geonosis, has never been arrested that I know of, but his son Georgrious was accused of B&E and escaped arrest only because the victim declined to press charges. The Viceroy's daughter Nouitelle got busted a few years ago (causing her to miss her first day of work at an excellent job that was obtained solely through her family's influence, and subsequently withdrawn), and now son Jebronius E. has been arrested as well.
Nobody's perfect and Force knows I would probably have at least one substance abuse problem or conduct disorder if I were a member of that family. But next time someone starts gushing about the Palpatines and family values and lamenting the loose morals of those who do not worship at the Palpatine altar, I will ask that person how many of his or her close relatives have had to enter pleas, whether or not they feel that's reflective of their own family's values, how does that compare to the Palpatine family's prison record, and whether they think making bail is more of a family-oriented rite of passage for Empire loyalists, or for rebels and Jedi scum.
I'll grant you, some great people have been arrested too, but those arrests weren't the result of being spoiled brats.
20050916
In which I dance with a Wookiee, and Kenobi tells all
Naturally, Kenobi was up for a night on the town. He doesn't have good transportation, so he is always happy for an excuse to bum a ride.
I was supposed to report to the courthouse in Mos Eisley ("at my convenience") to renew my droid's registration. Most people never bother, but I got caught. It is usually just a matter of paying a fee. It kept slipping my mind (I should have done it when I was there for my interview), but I remembered this time, and I didn't think it would take long.
We showed up and took a number. The slip said we would have a 14-minute wait. Over an hour later, they called my number, and the first thing they asked was to see the droid's number plate.
Those are hard to remove, and in some cases (I don't know about Onegee, I've never tried) it's often easier just to bring the whole droid. I didn't know they would want to see it - they had never asked for it before.
I got angrier and angrier with the attendant, whose fault it personally wasn't, and felt myself losing my temper. Kenobi can sometimes be helpful in these situations, but at the moment he was snoozing peacefully on the bench in the waiting area. (He is younger than I am!)
Anyway, I think you actually have to have a mind in order for the whammy to work, and the RMV (Registry of Mechanical Valets) isn't known as a great brain trust. I think the attendant was more afraid of me (she probably thought my hands were shaking with rage) than I was angry with her. I decided to quit before it got ugly. But my next "convenience" is going to be a long time coming.
Next we went to Steve's Sarlacc Pit for an excellent barbecued bantha dinner and I whined to Kenobi about the things that are bothering me. He didn't have much to say about the proposal to import enough outside water to double the amount of moisture on this planet, other than that it was profoundly stupid on many levels. I have plenty to say about it, especially since a big part of the proposal would be for the moisture farmers to pay for most of it, because supposedly we would benefit most from it. (Really? Then why didn't we suggest it ourselves?)
He had a lot more to say about the Empire's increasing presence here. I think it is just going to be temporary, because we go through this cycle every few years: Empire people start nosing around, talking about doing a census and setting up offices or security stations or whatever, and then they lose interest and leave. It's happened three or four times in 12 years. I've never given it much thought; I figure they just want to know is there anything here worth taking, and when they find out there isn't, they go away.
Kenobi worries it's something more sinister: perhaps they are looking for him or other escaped Jedi (he says that as if there are others... I'm afraid to ask). If so, I doubt that he has much to worry about, but who knows? Some time ago, maybe ten years ago, mass-mailings from Coruscant were sent all over the galaxy - not just the old republic, but the corporate sector and the outer rim planets too. The envelope screamed, "Don't miss out on your Jedi Retirement Benefits." It looked like junk mail to me - I threw mine away without even thinking about it. It didn't even occur to me to laugh at it because I get crazy mailings like that all the time.
The only thing that surprised me was that it had truly come from the Empire, and wasn't just a cheap third-party money-making scam. We were assured that the mailing had been made in error, that it had once been a regularly scheduled mass-mailing to make sure that no one fell through the cracks, but now that the Jedi had been exposed as traitors and exterminated, there was no longer any retirement plan, they were all dead, don't worry, and they were really sorry for the unfortunate and tasteless mistake.
Kenobi remains convinced that it was an artless attempt to locate senile Jedi, illegal offspring of Jedi, or potentially dangerous people with delusions of grandeur. The Larses were not amused either. I don't remember ever getting any such mailing before, so I'm not sure I buy the explanation that it was "regularly scheduled," but still, it seems a very clumsy way to catch someone who's hiding.
Anyway, we had a very animated conversation, and I had to remind him to keep his voice down, because the drinks were going to his head very fast. It doesn't always occur to me that he's got problems of his own - problems I can't even fathom. He probably had good reason to drink, and he drank plenty. He even paid for dinner.
As we staggered over to Thee Hutt Hut, Kenobi did his little speech about Mos Eisley being a "wretched hive of scum and villainy." I think I would have been impressed if I had not heard it a dozen times before. Mos Eisley really isn't that bad. It looks bad - it is definitely scruffy - and if you are looking for trouble, it is the place to go. However, it's also the place to go for dining, entertainment, and about 33% of what passes for "culture" on Tatooine.
Just don't wear any jewelry or flashy clothes or carry any expensive electronics. And leave the droids at home.
Of course, if you insist on going to Thee Hutt Hut, then you really are in a hive of scum and villainy. It's a hangout for smugglers, bounty hunters, drug dealers, narcs, and random weirdos who like to wear cheap rubber costumes. I don't know how they attract and keep such a varied clientele, or why Kenobi likes it so much.
"Try this," he said, handing me a stupid-looking pink drink. "It's a Hamster Death Gulp. The remedy is part of the recipe," he explained, which I guess was supposed to excuse the repulsive minty taste and chalky texture, but other than that it wasn't bad. "Let me introduce you to some friends of mine."
Unfortunately, my memory after that is spotty. I remember sitting at a table with a couple of heavily armed Wookiees, or possibly humans dressed in Wookiee suits. One of them tried to dance with me. They got into a brawl with some other patrons, and Kenobi and I snuck out.
After that, I remember some vague stumbling around for a while, yelling in a parking lot for no good reason, climbing onto a roof to adjust someone's vaporator, then finding myself in a different place - kind of a saloon with a Tusken Raider bartender, whom Kenobi assured me was "cool." It was very late - not that time means a lot in a Mos Eisley bar - and it was relatively quiet and not too busy. We found a booth and ordered drinks.
"Shandstawmer, you've been a ghood friend tummeee," Kenobi slurred.
Our drinks arrived, and that's when I realized I was still holding a Java the Hutt cup in my hand (great, I'm blacking out again). It occurred to me that neither of us really needed an extra drink, and that we were going to have to find a place to sleep because I wasn't going to be able to drive home.
But, at the time, it didn't seem right to waste good beer, and this was very good beer. I put my coffee aside and drank deeply.
"I really really meeeean it," Kenobi continued. "I teed to nell - I need to tell you something," he whispered loudy, leaning way over the table, I think aiming towards my ear although it was hard to be sure. "I'm gonna tell you everything. I owe it to you. I have to. I can't tell anyonebody else."
And he did. He told me about Anakin, and Palpatine, and a bunch of other Naboo politicians I hadn't paid much attention to then because I was on Tatooine, and a cyborg general, and clones, and droid armies, and secret weddings, and Yoda, and an elegant but evil count, and his brother and sister, and his adoptive parents, and his biological parents, and his brother in law, and the worst Life Day dinner party ever, and a buddy who worked at a diner, and a whiny padawan, and a trip to Kashyyyk, and this amazing little droid, and the fall of the Republic, and having to cut an enemy in half who he had secretly been "more than friends" with and who managed to put his body back together and survive.
None of it made much sense. I remember the topics but I don't know how they all fit together. It sounded like there were multiple children getting born around that time and I assume he fathered one of them. No clue who the mothers were. He probably told me, but it's lost along with my memory of the trip to Java the Hutt. It's just as well, because most of that information is probably better kept secret.
I just remember snippets of the story, and then waking up on the floor of a very small passenger ship. I don't remember how we got there. I suppose we walked, but it's a long walk from the saloon to the port. I was stiff and sore and my stomach hurt (though not as badly as it should have - maybe those Hamster Death Gulps really are good for something). My head was a vortex of pain. My mouth felt like it was full of Wookiee fur. (Given the previous night's festivities, I had to check to be sure it wasn't.)
Kenobi said the ship belonged to a friend who was "conducting business." He wouldn't say anything else, and I wanted to ask if this was the friend he supposedly cut in half, but I was afraid to bring it up. For one thing, perhaps he didn't remember telling me all those things, and he might regret it. For another, I'm not sure I even remembered it right.
The "friend" had left his speeder bike behind, on the ship, so the "business" must have been very local.
Kenobi was very quiet on the ride home, except to express concern that he had spent more than he had planned. I don't know if that was a hint to pay him back, but I spent a lot too, so I didn't say anything. I don't know if he even remembered spilling his guts to me, but since I don't remember much either, it doesn't really matter.
I was supposed to report to the courthouse in Mos Eisley ("at my convenience") to renew my droid's registration. Most people never bother, but I got caught. It is usually just a matter of paying a fee. It kept slipping my mind (I should have done it when I was there for my interview), but I remembered this time, and I didn't think it would take long.
We showed up and took a number. The slip said we would have a 14-minute wait. Over an hour later, they called my number, and the first thing they asked was to see the droid's number plate.
Those are hard to remove, and in some cases (I don't know about Onegee, I've never tried) it's often easier just to bring the whole droid. I didn't know they would want to see it - they had never asked for it before.
I got angrier and angrier with the attendant, whose fault it personally wasn't, and felt myself losing my temper. Kenobi can sometimes be helpful in these situations, but at the moment he was snoozing peacefully on the bench in the waiting area. (He is younger than I am!)
Anyway, I think you actually have to have a mind in order for the whammy to work, and the RMV (Registry of Mechanical Valets) isn't known as a great brain trust. I think the attendant was more afraid of me (she probably thought my hands were shaking with rage) than I was angry with her. I decided to quit before it got ugly. But my next "convenience" is going to be a long time coming.
Next we went to Steve's Sarlacc Pit for an excellent barbecued bantha dinner and I whined to Kenobi about the things that are bothering me. He didn't have much to say about the proposal to import enough outside water to double the amount of moisture on this planet, other than that it was profoundly stupid on many levels. I have plenty to say about it, especially since a big part of the proposal would be for the moisture farmers to pay for most of it, because supposedly we would benefit most from it. (Really? Then why didn't we suggest it ourselves?)
He had a lot more to say about the Empire's increasing presence here. I think it is just going to be temporary, because we go through this cycle every few years: Empire people start nosing around, talking about doing a census and setting up offices or security stations or whatever, and then they lose interest and leave. It's happened three or four times in 12 years. I've never given it much thought; I figure they just want to know is there anything here worth taking, and when they find out there isn't, they go away.
Kenobi worries it's something more sinister: perhaps they are looking for him or other escaped Jedi (he says that as if there are others... I'm afraid to ask). If so, I doubt that he has much to worry about, but who knows? Some time ago, maybe ten years ago, mass-mailings from Coruscant were sent all over the galaxy - not just the old republic, but the corporate sector and the outer rim planets too. The envelope screamed, "Don't miss out on your Jedi Retirement Benefits." It looked like junk mail to me - I threw mine away without even thinking about it. It didn't even occur to me to laugh at it because I get crazy mailings like that all the time.
The only thing that surprised me was that it had truly come from the Empire, and wasn't just a cheap third-party money-making scam. We were assured that the mailing had been made in error, that it had once been a regularly scheduled mass-mailing to make sure that no one fell through the cracks, but now that the Jedi had been exposed as traitors and exterminated, there was no longer any retirement plan, they were all dead, don't worry, and they were really sorry for the unfortunate and tasteless mistake.
Kenobi remains convinced that it was an artless attempt to locate senile Jedi, illegal offspring of Jedi, or potentially dangerous people with delusions of grandeur. The Larses were not amused either. I don't remember ever getting any such mailing before, so I'm not sure I buy the explanation that it was "regularly scheduled," but still, it seems a very clumsy way to catch someone who's hiding.
Anyway, we had a very animated conversation, and I had to remind him to keep his voice down, because the drinks were going to his head very fast. It doesn't always occur to me that he's got problems of his own - problems I can't even fathom. He probably had good reason to drink, and he drank plenty. He even paid for dinner.
As we staggered over to Thee Hutt Hut, Kenobi did his little speech about Mos Eisley being a "wretched hive of scum and villainy." I think I would have been impressed if I had not heard it a dozen times before. Mos Eisley really isn't that bad. It looks bad - it is definitely scruffy - and if you are looking for trouble, it is the place to go. However, it's also the place to go for dining, entertainment, and about 33% of what passes for "culture" on Tatooine.
Just don't wear any jewelry or flashy clothes or carry any expensive electronics. And leave the droids at home.
Of course, if you insist on going to Thee Hutt Hut, then you really are in a hive of scum and villainy. It's a hangout for smugglers, bounty hunters, drug dealers, narcs, and random weirdos who like to wear cheap rubber costumes. I don't know how they attract and keep such a varied clientele, or why Kenobi likes it so much.
"Try this," he said, handing me a stupid-looking pink drink. "It's a Hamster Death Gulp. The remedy is part of the recipe," he explained, which I guess was supposed to excuse the repulsive minty taste and chalky texture, but other than that it wasn't bad. "Let me introduce you to some friends of mine."
Unfortunately, my memory after that is spotty. I remember sitting at a table with a couple of heavily armed Wookiees, or possibly humans dressed in Wookiee suits. One of them tried to dance with me. They got into a brawl with some other patrons, and Kenobi and I snuck out.
After that, I remember some vague stumbling around for a while, yelling in a parking lot for no good reason, climbing onto a roof to adjust someone's vaporator, then finding myself in a different place - kind of a saloon with a Tusken Raider bartender, whom Kenobi assured me was "cool." It was very late - not that time means a lot in a Mos Eisley bar - and it was relatively quiet and not too busy. We found a booth and ordered drinks.
"Shandstawmer, you've been a ghood friend tummeee," Kenobi slurred.
Our drinks arrived, and that's when I realized I was still holding a Java the Hutt cup in my hand (great, I'm blacking out again). It occurred to me that neither of us really needed an extra drink, and that we were going to have to find a place to sleep because I wasn't going to be able to drive home.
But, at the time, it didn't seem right to waste good beer, and this was very good beer. I put my coffee aside and drank deeply.
"I really really meeeean it," Kenobi continued. "I teed to nell - I need to tell you something," he whispered loudy, leaning way over the table, I think aiming towards my ear although it was hard to be sure. "I'm gonna tell you everything. I owe it to you. I have to. I can't tell anyonebody else."
And he did. He told me about Anakin, and Palpatine, and a bunch of other Naboo politicians I hadn't paid much attention to then because I was on Tatooine, and a cyborg general, and clones, and droid armies, and secret weddings, and Yoda, and an elegant but evil count, and his brother and sister, and his adoptive parents, and his biological parents, and his brother in law, and the worst Life Day dinner party ever, and a buddy who worked at a diner, and a whiny padawan, and a trip to Kashyyyk, and this amazing little droid, and the fall of the Republic, and having to cut an enemy in half who he had secretly been "more than friends" with and who managed to put his body back together and survive.
None of it made much sense. I remember the topics but I don't know how they all fit together. It sounded like there were multiple children getting born around that time and I assume he fathered one of them. No clue who the mothers were. He probably told me, but it's lost along with my memory of the trip to Java the Hutt. It's just as well, because most of that information is probably better kept secret.
I just remember snippets of the story, and then waking up on the floor of a very small passenger ship. I don't remember how we got there. I suppose we walked, but it's a long walk from the saloon to the port. I was stiff and sore and my stomach hurt (though not as badly as it should have - maybe those Hamster Death Gulps really are good for something). My head was a vortex of pain. My mouth felt like it was full of Wookiee fur. (Given the previous night's festivities, I had to check to be sure it wasn't.)
Kenobi said the ship belonged to a friend who was "conducting business." He wouldn't say anything else, and I wanted to ask if this was the friend he supposedly cut in half, but I was afraid to bring it up. For one thing, perhaps he didn't remember telling me all those things, and he might regret it. For another, I'm not sure I even remembered it right.
The "friend" had left his speeder bike behind, on the ship, so the "business" must have been very local.
Kenobi was very quiet on the ride home, except to express concern that he had spent more than he had planned. I don't know if that was a hint to pay him back, but I spent a lot too, so I didn't say anything. I don't know if he even remembered spilling his guts to me, but since I don't remember much either, it doesn't really matter.
20050912
My life sucks and I want a deathstick
I had the weirdest experience last week.
Recent political and other developments have made me a bit nervous about remaining on Tatooine as a moisture farmer. I can't go into depth about that right now, but the short version is that I have good reason to explore other possibilities, both on and off this planet. There's no emergency, but the situation is volatile and I need to be ready to do something, even if I don't have a full plan yet.
I was talking things over with Darklighter a few weeks ago, and he suggested that I apply for a job (gasp! an actual job!) in Mos Eisley. It wouldn't be moisture farming, obviously, but it would be moisture-farming-related, sort of a liaison for local government to deal with the Guild and cooperatives.
That just shows you how nervous I am, that I would consider such a thing. It is a long drive to Mos Eisley, and I would have to wear clean clothes every day, and the pay would be so poor that I wouldn't be able to afford to move, which would mean I would have to continue moisture farming in some capacity, which (due to looming possible events I alluded to earlier) might soon become more trouble than it's worth.
Anyway, the interview: It was a panel-style interview. I had to sit at the head of the table. The interviewers were three Mos Eisley politicians, two Empire lackeys, and a silver protocol droid who, if you haven't guessed, did most of the talking. (The Empire's involvement is a story in itself, and one of the reasons I'm nervous about my future as a farmer.) They were polite, and asked reasonable questions, but they also seemed to spend a lot of time trying to convince me that the job sucked.
For some reason, this only seemed to encourage me. At this point I was still enthusiastic. I had talked myself into believing that this was a way to kick off a new and exciting phase in my life. Heh. I wasn't nervous, but my hands were shaking which probably made me look nervous AND old. (I didn't think it was a good time to explain about that visit from my bookie's henchmen; after all, that fateful podrace was years ago, and these people looked pretty young.)
I didn't think my age would be a problem, but the questions they asked suggested that they were looking for a younger, more malleable candidate. Age discrimination is illegal in the Empire, but Tatooine isn't technically part of the Empire (although it's not exactly not part of the Empire either... we're in sort of a semi-colonial phase), and in any case the cutoff age for humanoids is 60, and I am only 55.
Anyway, I can't prove anything. They say that it is an "entry-level" job even though they clearly want someone with some experience. And, I am thinking, someone with either no brain, no self-esteem, or no backbone. On the application, I was supposed to provide my grade point average from school, and the names of some of my "professors." What good is a 40-year-old GPA, and anyway, what professors, since Naboo kids are usually done with school by age 12? They also wanted to know why I didn't want them to contact my current clients as references. Uh, because I don't want my clients to switch to another farmer, on the assumption that I am planning to dump them without warning (which I would never do)? DUH????
I can see why they might find this an interesting question, but their baffled reaction to my answer was clearly a pretense for my benefit. Some sort of feeble non-Jedi mind trick.
The drive home was miserable, and the first thing I saw when I got home was a big fat bill from my grocer in Anchorhead. Just the reminder I needed that life isn't cheap, won't be getting cheaper soon, and doesn't support pay cuts.
Still, even with mixed feelings, I kept my hopes up. I think I just wanted to feel that I had a choice. But when the rejection came this morning, I was relieved.
I almost feel like celebrating, even though my position is no better now than it was a week ago. It's worse in a way, because a little glimmer of hope has just been extinguished.
Hmm. Now my morale is plummeting. I can't decide whether I'd be celebrating or drowning my sorrows, but I think a drink is warranted either way. Wonder if Kenobi's up for a night on the town.
Recent political and other developments have made me a bit nervous about remaining on Tatooine as a moisture farmer. I can't go into depth about that right now, but the short version is that I have good reason to explore other possibilities, both on and off this planet. There's no emergency, but the situation is volatile and I need to be ready to do something, even if I don't have a full plan yet.
I was talking things over with Darklighter a few weeks ago, and he suggested that I apply for a job (gasp! an actual job!) in Mos Eisley. It wouldn't be moisture farming, obviously, but it would be moisture-farming-related, sort of a liaison for local government to deal with the Guild and cooperatives.
That just shows you how nervous I am, that I would consider such a thing. It is a long drive to Mos Eisley, and I would have to wear clean clothes every day, and the pay would be so poor that I wouldn't be able to afford to move, which would mean I would have to continue moisture farming in some capacity, which (due to looming possible events I alluded to earlier) might soon become more trouble than it's worth.
Anyway, the interview: It was a panel-style interview. I had to sit at the head of the table. The interviewers were three Mos Eisley politicians, two Empire lackeys, and a silver protocol droid who, if you haven't guessed, did most of the talking. (The Empire's involvement is a story in itself, and one of the reasons I'm nervous about my future as a farmer.) They were polite, and asked reasonable questions, but they also seemed to spend a lot of time trying to convince me that the job sucked.
For some reason, this only seemed to encourage me. At this point I was still enthusiastic. I had talked myself into believing that this was a way to kick off a new and exciting phase in my life. Heh. I wasn't nervous, but my hands were shaking which probably made me look nervous AND old. (I didn't think it was a good time to explain about that visit from my bookie's henchmen; after all, that fateful podrace was years ago, and these people looked pretty young.)
I didn't think my age would be a problem, but the questions they asked suggested that they were looking for a younger, more malleable candidate. Age discrimination is illegal in the Empire, but Tatooine isn't technically part of the Empire (although it's not exactly not part of the Empire either... we're in sort of a semi-colonial phase), and in any case the cutoff age for humanoids is 60, and I am only 55.
Anyway, I can't prove anything. They say that it is an "entry-level" job even though they clearly want someone with some experience. And, I am thinking, someone with either no brain, no self-esteem, or no backbone. On the application, I was supposed to provide my grade point average from school, and the names of some of my "professors." What good is a 40-year-old GPA, and anyway, what professors, since Naboo kids are usually done with school by age 12? They also wanted to know why I didn't want them to contact my current clients as references. Uh, because I don't want my clients to switch to another farmer, on the assumption that I am planning to dump them without warning (which I would never do)? DUH????
I can see why they might find this an interesting question, but their baffled reaction to my answer was clearly a pretense for my benefit. Some sort of feeble non-Jedi mind trick.
The drive home was miserable, and the first thing I saw when I got home was a big fat bill from my grocer in Anchorhead. Just the reminder I needed that life isn't cheap, won't be getting cheaper soon, and doesn't support pay cuts.
Still, even with mixed feelings, I kept my hopes up. I think I just wanted to feel that I had a choice. But when the rejection came this morning, I was relieved.
I almost feel like celebrating, even though my position is no better now than it was a week ago. It's worse in a way, because a little glimmer of hope has just been extinguished.
Hmm. Now my morale is plummeting. I can't decide whether I'd be celebrating or drowning my sorrows, but I think a drink is warranted either way. Wonder if Kenobi's up for a night on the town.
20050818
Emergency!
Sorry about that. Blogging is fun, but real life gets priority. I had a grateful visitor bearing a pot of pea soup. But back to my story. I had the entire Skywalker/Lars household, all three of them, in my kitchen very late at night (or in the morning), with Owen stomping around nervously, Luke squeaking excitedly, and Beru sitting quietly at my table with her head down, getting pale.
I knew the situation must be very bad if Beru was here. Normally, she never goes anywhere. She doesn't tolerate travel well, because of her motion sickness. At one time, as a student, she had had an opportunity to be a professional athlete, and had to turn it down. She had never been to my house before, and it was strange to see her sitting there at the table now, clutching at her hand and breathing shallowly while Owen and Luke tried to explain what happened.
Apparently, there was a problem with the ventilation equipment, and Beru tried to fix it herself, rather than wait for Owen to wake up just a few hours later. She had thought the intake fan wasn't getting any power, so she reached in (without turning the power off first). Turned out it was getting intermittent power, and it started back up. It cut her hand very deeply, and then the safety kicked in, and she started to pull her hand out, and the fan came back on and cut her some more.
Luke, who was supposed to be in bed at the time but wasn't, heard her yelling and turned the fan off and wrapped up her hand. Owen drove the whole bunch of them out here, not wanting to leave Luke there alone at night. Then two Sandpeople on banthas chased them for a while, although I couldn't see any sign of them now. (A landspeeder can easily outrun a bantha during the day, but you have to proceed more slowly in the dark.)
Luke and Owen bickered about whether it is "cheap" or "thrifty" to keep outdated equipment around. I didn't say anything. I agree with Luke in principle, but I wouldn't have upgraded the ventilation system either. It's fine and dandy to know what's the best thing to do, but you also have to be honest with yourself as to whether you'd actually do it. Normally, having outdated ventilation equipment in a grayhouse doesn't pose a significant safety risk.
I think Luke knew that, too. But he was worried about his aunt.
As they spoke, I scrambled around looking for One-Onegee's medical programming chips and a blanket for Beru, who seemed to be going into shock.
One-Onegee is, as his name implies, a medical droid. He is not, as his name misleadingly implies, related to the extremely popular Two-Onebee, which is produced by another manufacturer, who never produced a One series. In fact, the Two series was the ripoff, but it was so much better than the One series that the Ones are now regarded as the cheap imitations. Keyword being cheap.
They are mechanically sturdy, however, and have fine hands, and while they are not especially strong for droids, they are as strong as most adult humans. They can be programmed with additional simple functions (like shoveling sand) and can be loaded with mechanical repair programs.
Best of all, as I mentioned before, they are amazingly affordable for what they can do. They're not a sensible buy for a hospital or anyone who needs or can afford either a very versatile or very specialized droid of any kind, but even new they only cost a little more than a good domestic droid.
I don't need a medical droid at all (most times) but I have to take what I can get. You see all kinds of droids out here doing things they weren't originally intended to do. In fact, Shmi actually had a protocol droid. Yappy, but the price was right (the little podrace-winning stinker built him) and it was helpful around the house. That droid was the reason Cliegg bought Shmi the Bocce appliances, which still stand in morose neglected glory in the Lars kitchen today, waiting for a new interpreter.
Onegee's not yappy. He's an excellent listener, though. (Joke.) I got him from a pack of filthy Jawas. They also had an Asp, which many would consider the most desirable general-purpose droid, but the Asp's hands aren't quite as fine as I needed, because my own hands are perpetually achy and twitchy.
Who knows where they found Onegee - probably on a crashed ship in the
Owen calls them Dumb and Dumber. (Mainly a reference to their verbal skills, as Owen is not the type to make fun of puny brains.) He also calls them The Handsome Couple, because he thinks it's a riot to see a tall slender robot standing beside a short, stubby-legged robot. He has a strange sense of humor, but that's better than none at all.
But, this is important: when I got Onegee, I had to first delete some of his other programs, including most of his paltry medical repertoire, in order to upload the programs that make him useful to me.
I'm not an idiot. I backed everything up first. But in order to cope with Beru's injuries, I first had to locate those chips, which was not easy with my groggy head, Owen's growling, Luke's squeaking, and Onegee's periodic announcement: "There is a medical emergency. I am not programmed to treat this condition. Please seek other assistance."
They were in the spice cabinet. Of course. The only reason I even looked in there was because I had an insane idea to create an herbal poultice. It was insane because the only one of us who knows anything about herbal poultices is Beru, and she was barely conscious. But, no harm done - I loaded the chips and Onegee set to work.
If I didn't know better, I would swear that the medical programs transformed the droid's entire demeanor. Suddenly, he seemed dignified and professional, not slumpy and defeated. (I think I anthropomorphize too much.) He crisply went about the task, finding or requesting things he needed. Frequently, it was necessary to improvise, and he acquiesced to our makeshift solutions (many droids would not be so flexible). He wasn't authoritative at all, but given the level of disorganization in the room, his competent manner helped us focus on helping Beru instead of scrambling or arguing.
The surgery was completed much faster than we would have expected, and much faster than it seemed. We thanked One-Onegee, who, not being a social droid, didn't have much to say in return. Luke and the Larses thanked me, but, not being a social person myself, I didn't have much to say either. I pointed out that Luke's quick thinking, keen ears, and cool head had probably saved Beru's hand and possibly her life. Luke blushed and Beru hugged him. Owen scratched his ear, which is his way of signalling embarrassed agreement.
20050817
Don't take fudge from politicians
I was fast asleep. I sleep at night. It's this crazy thing I like to do. It's cool at night (sometimes downright cold) and it's not particularly safe to go outside, so it's better for sleeping than for working.
That's my opinion. Some people disagree, especially those with indoor hobbies. Not that farming is a hobby; not for Beru. But she likes to tend her plants in the dead of night. Or "early morning," as she likes to call it. She starts her day several hours before sunsup and retires shortly after sunsdown. Owen goes to bed later in the evening and gets up with the suns do, same as me. Luke goes to bed as late as he can stand to and gets up only when his uncle drags him out of bed, same as most kids.
Some of their plants grow underground, and others grow in the greyhouse. (It's like a greenhouse, except shaded slightly, so the suns don't burn the plants.) Despite the shading, the greyhouse gets very hot during the day, and it's coolest in the last hours before dawn.
Which, as I may have mentioned before, is what I consider the best time to sleep. And that's what I was doing, very soundly I might add, dreaming about a terrible thunderstorm that scared the poodoo out of me when I was little, back when I was on Naboo and had a different name and no idea of what was ahead of me. I thought what was ahead of me at that time was that I was going to be dead very soon. A bolt of lightning had just split our cottage open, or so I thought. I opened my eyes a few minutes later and saw everything intact and the rest of my family shaking.
It was a tremendous storm. We get tremendous storms here too, but only rarely. I knew I was dreaming this time because we didn't really have a singing Gungan sprouting out of smoldering flowerpot, and we didn't have a row of line-dancing droids, and my grandfather certainly wouldn't have tried to teach them the Hustle even if we had. Especially since he was already dead at the time of the storm. Nor did the then-Mayor Palpatine ever offer me a piece of fudge which looked suspiciously like a stick of butter covered in brown dust.
The crashing sounds in my dream went on and on, and the clumsy droids' stomping got louder and louder, and soon there was a lot of yelling too, distant yelling, which I assumed were the firefighters trying to get us to open the door to buy cakes from them, until one of them called, "Sandstormer!"
Then I woke up just enough to put some lights on and stumble to the door. I wasn't sure I wasn't still dreaming, but even half-asleep I know better than to open the door in the middle of the night without knowing who's on the other side.
"It's us!" a muffled voice called unhelpfully. That was enough to prove it wasn't a Tusken Raider, so I opened the door, and Luke and the Larses spilled through in an untidy heap, Owen slamming the door behind them and looking for the repulsor field controls.
"Accident... Sandpeople!" Luke squeaked.
The kid's no good in an emergency, but I understood enough to turn the repulsor field to its highest setting. It's not great at the best of times, but it had a full charge and my door is pretty sturdy, even after a beating like the one it had just received.
"Just two," Beru explained, and I still wasn't lucid enough to follow, but when I saw the blood-soaked rag wrapped around her hand, I snapped to full wakefulness and activated One-Onegee.
I hate to cut this short, but I need to stop typing. I'll finish later. The important thing is that Beru is okay now, there's no infection, the Sandpeople apparently decided to bother someone else, and Owen's finally agreed to order some new equipment.
That's my opinion. Some people disagree, especially those with indoor hobbies. Not that farming is a hobby; not for Beru. But she likes to tend her plants in the dead of night. Or "early morning," as she likes to call it. She starts her day several hours before sunsup and retires shortly after sunsdown. Owen goes to bed later in the evening and gets up with the suns do, same as me. Luke goes to bed as late as he can stand to and gets up only when his uncle drags him out of bed, same as most kids.
Some of their plants grow underground, and others grow in the greyhouse. (It's like a greenhouse, except shaded slightly, so the suns don't burn the plants.) Despite the shading, the greyhouse gets very hot during the day, and it's coolest in the last hours before dawn.
Which, as I may have mentioned before, is what I consider the best time to sleep. And that's what I was doing, very soundly I might add, dreaming about a terrible thunderstorm that scared the poodoo out of me when I was little, back when I was on Naboo and had a different name and no idea of what was ahead of me. I thought what was ahead of me at that time was that I was going to be dead very soon. A bolt of lightning had just split our cottage open, or so I thought. I opened my eyes a few minutes later and saw everything intact and the rest of my family shaking.
It was a tremendous storm. We get tremendous storms here too, but only rarely. I knew I was dreaming this time because we didn't really have a singing Gungan sprouting out of smoldering flowerpot, and we didn't have a row of line-dancing droids, and my grandfather certainly wouldn't have tried to teach them the Hustle even if we had. Especially since he was already dead at the time of the storm. Nor did the then-Mayor Palpatine ever offer me a piece of fudge which looked suspiciously like a stick of butter covered in brown dust.
The crashing sounds in my dream went on and on, and the clumsy droids' stomping got louder and louder, and soon there was a lot of yelling too, distant yelling, which I assumed were the firefighters trying to get us to open the door to buy cakes from them, until one of them called, "Sandstormer!"
Then I woke up just enough to put some lights on and stumble to the door. I wasn't sure I wasn't still dreaming, but even half-asleep I know better than to open the door in the middle of the night without knowing who's on the other side.
"It's us!" a muffled voice called unhelpfully. That was enough to prove it wasn't a Tusken Raider, so I opened the door, and Luke and the Larses spilled through in an untidy heap, Owen slamming the door behind them and looking for the repulsor field controls.
"Accident... Sandpeople!" Luke squeaked.
The kid's no good in an emergency, but I understood enough to turn the repulsor field to its highest setting. It's not great at the best of times, but it had a full charge and my door is pretty sturdy, even after a beating like the one it had just received.
"Just two," Beru explained, and I still wasn't lucid enough to follow, but when I saw the blood-soaked rag wrapped around her hand, I snapped to full wakefulness and activated One-Onegee.
I hate to cut this short, but I need to stop typing. I'll finish later. The important thing is that Beru is okay now, there's no infection, the Sandpeople apparently decided to bother someone else, and Owen's finally agreed to order some new equipment.
20050720
Day at the races not this is, hmm?
When I went to pick up Kenobi yesterday, he said he wasn't feeling well, that he had started feeling ill the night before and couldn't go.
I was not happy, but I decided I could try to sell my extra ticket at the Speedway. I tried to get there early. Everyone else got the same idea, unfortunately, including a large security delegation from the Empire. It took me some time to find a place to park and get to the entrance.
With all the security around (the like of which I had never seen at the Speedway before), I was afraid I would be arrested for scalping tickets, so I went to the box office to see if they would refund one ticket. Judging by the number of apparently ticketless people milling around, I thought it would be okay.
It was okay. In fact, it was surprisingly easy, except I had to wait in line. The attendant took my ticket and handed me the cash as if she'd been expecting me. Then she apologized for the inconvenience!
I thought that was odd, since refunds are usually difficult, especially for single tickets. Then I noticed that the line behind me had gotten a lot longer during the short time that I had been there. And there were a lot of kids crying. It seemed a little early in the day for that. Usually, the crying doesn't start until the kids see how bad the view is from their seats.
I knew my seat wasn't going to be so great either, but I was eager to get to it, especially now that I had extra cash in hand for drinks and snacks. I headed towards the gate, where a bunch of white-armored Empire whatchamacallems were patting people down. I'd never seen that before. I wondered if this was a new thing, or if it was just something they were doing this one time because of a high-ranking visitor or something. I mean, there's no shortage of people who would like to kill the Hutts at their favorite sporting event, but there's never been an attempt, nor security like this, especially galactic security.
I gave my ticket to the kid at the gate, bracing myself to be frisked by one of those clone people. I didn't really like it, but I knew the nonsense was almost finished and I would soon me sitting in my crummy seat. I didn't expect any problem.
But of course there was a problem. It wouldn't be a day in the life of J. Sandstormer if there wasn't a problem. The kid at the gate squinted at my ticket, turned it over and squinted some more, rotated it, creased the corner with a grubby thumbnail, and showed it to his supervisor, who gave it back to me and said I needed to get a refund. He looked at me suspiciously, since I had obviously just come over from the box office and still had the receipt in my hand. He pointed at a sign, but it was hand-lettered and in Huttese.
I went back to the box office, where the line was now pretty long, and there were more kids crying, and there were vendors selling souvenirs and snacks and drinks to the people waiting in line. Again, I'd never seen that before.
And that's when it dawned on me, finally coming out of my self-absorbed euphoria and listening to some of the conversations going on around me, that these people were not waiting in line to buy their tickets. They were waiting to sell their tickets. There was indeed a high-ranking visitor from the Empire, some lord fancypants or something, and they were clearing out a large section of the stands to make room for this person and his retinue and guards and security and seating comfort.
I couldn't decide whether I felt sorry for this person who was too paranoid to enjoy a simple pod race even on this backwards planet without being surrounded by security, or if I was insulted that this person thought we were all a bunch of assassins, or if I was miffed that this person thought he was so important when in fact no one here had even heard of him before.
Or jealous that he had enough money and clout to pull it off. Not to mention that he was getting to see the pod race and I wasn't.
I got my other ticket refunded and went home. (Got half my parking fee back too. That was more than I had expected.)
I went to Darklighter's this morning, and they had t-shirts, sunburns, and lots of stories. A tall figure in black, probably not human because it was wearing a helmet and a mask with ventilator. Also a cape. (Biggs seemed quite impressed with the cape and wanted one for himself.) Rumor was that his name was Karth Fader and was a special friend of the Emperor's. Kane then corrected himself, saying that the Emperor doesn't have friends as such, but that he thought Fader was a behind-the-scenes leader on a big secret military project and that the big secret military project was the reason that all other technology seemed to have stopped in its tracks after the Republic fell. It was gobbling up all the major engineering and industrial resources.
I assumed Kane got this information from his Hutt friends, and took it with a grain of salt. I mentioned it to Kenobi later, just visiting to see if he felt any better, and Kenobi said, "oh, Darth Vader. That explains a lot. I assume he's gone by now?"
It was phrased like a question, but it sounded more like he was telling me. I said Vader was gone as far as I knew (not that I would know, but I couldn't think of any reason he would have stayed around). Kenobi nodded. Up until then, I had thought Kenobi was feeling better, but now he looked agitated again, and he sent me home with another overpriced can of tea, which Beru assures me can be used to fertilize potting soil.
I was not happy, but I decided I could try to sell my extra ticket at the Speedway. I tried to get there early. Everyone else got the same idea, unfortunately, including a large security delegation from the Empire. It took me some time to find a place to park and get to the entrance.
With all the security around (the like of which I had never seen at the Speedway before), I was afraid I would be arrested for scalping tickets, so I went to the box office to see if they would refund one ticket. Judging by the number of apparently ticketless people milling around, I thought it would be okay.
It was okay. In fact, it was surprisingly easy, except I had to wait in line. The attendant took my ticket and handed me the cash as if she'd been expecting me. Then she apologized for the inconvenience!
I thought that was odd, since refunds are usually difficult, especially for single tickets. Then I noticed that the line behind me had gotten a lot longer during the short time that I had been there. And there were a lot of kids crying. It seemed a little early in the day for that. Usually, the crying doesn't start until the kids see how bad the view is from their seats.
I knew my seat wasn't going to be so great either, but I was eager to get to it, especially now that I had extra cash in hand for drinks and snacks. I headed towards the gate, where a bunch of white-armored Empire whatchamacallems were patting people down. I'd never seen that before. I wondered if this was a new thing, or if it was just something they were doing this one time because of a high-ranking visitor or something. I mean, there's no shortage of people who would like to kill the Hutts at their favorite sporting event, but there's never been an attempt, nor security like this, especially galactic security.
I gave my ticket to the kid at the gate, bracing myself to be frisked by one of those clone people. I didn't really like it, but I knew the nonsense was almost finished and I would soon me sitting in my crummy seat. I didn't expect any problem.
But of course there was a problem. It wouldn't be a day in the life of J. Sandstormer if there wasn't a problem. The kid at the gate squinted at my ticket, turned it over and squinted some more, rotated it, creased the corner with a grubby thumbnail, and showed it to his supervisor, who gave it back to me and said I needed to get a refund. He looked at me suspiciously, since I had obviously just come over from the box office and still had the receipt in my hand. He pointed at a sign, but it was hand-lettered and in Huttese.
I went back to the box office, where the line was now pretty long, and there were more kids crying, and there were vendors selling souvenirs and snacks and drinks to the people waiting in line. Again, I'd never seen that before.
And that's when it dawned on me, finally coming out of my self-absorbed euphoria and listening to some of the conversations going on around me, that these people were not waiting in line to buy their tickets. They were waiting to sell their tickets. There was indeed a high-ranking visitor from the Empire, some lord fancypants or something, and they were clearing out a large section of the stands to make room for this person and his retinue and guards and security and seating comfort.
I couldn't decide whether I felt sorry for this person who was too paranoid to enjoy a simple pod race even on this backwards planet without being surrounded by security, or if I was insulted that this person thought we were all a bunch of assassins, or if I was miffed that this person thought he was so important when in fact no one here had even heard of him before.
Or jealous that he had enough money and clout to pull it off. Not to mention that he was getting to see the pod race and I wasn't.
I got my other ticket refunded and went home. (Got half my parking fee back too. That was more than I had expected.)
I went to Darklighter's this morning, and they had t-shirts, sunburns, and lots of stories. A tall figure in black, probably not human because it was wearing a helmet and a mask with ventilator. Also a cape. (Biggs seemed quite impressed with the cape and wanted one for himself.) Rumor was that his name was Karth Fader and was a special friend of the Emperor's. Kane then corrected himself, saying that the Emperor doesn't have friends as such, but that he thought Fader was a behind-the-scenes leader on a big secret military project and that the big secret military project was the reason that all other technology seemed to have stopped in its tracks after the Republic fell. It was gobbling up all the major engineering and industrial resources.
I assumed Kane got this information from his Hutt friends, and took it with a grain of salt. I mentioned it to Kenobi later, just visiting to see if he felt any better, and Kenobi said, "oh, Darth Vader. That explains a lot. I assume he's gone by now?"
It was phrased like a question, but it sounded more like he was telling me. I said Vader was gone as far as I knew (not that I would know, but I couldn't think of any reason he would have stayed around). Kenobi nodded. Up until then, I had thought Kenobi was feeling better, but now he looked agitated again, and he sent me home with another overpriced can of tea, which Beru assures me can be used to fertilize potting soil.
20050718
A day at the races
I don't get out much. That's partly by choice, because I'm not a big traveler, but it's also because there's seldom much to get out to. In my book, anyway. One of the few exceptions for me has been the Boonta Eve Pod Race at Mos Espa.
(Boonta Eve, incidentally, is not a Tatooine holiday. It's a Boonta holiday. I don't know what it commemorates. I assume it has something to do with the Hutts, since they are the ones who started the yearly pod-racing tradition on this planet. Boonta is the pod-racing capital of the galaxy, I realize that, but I don't know what the holiday is for.)
I don't go every year. I used to, but it got to be too expensive and time-consuming, especially after 1) I started taking my farming more seriously and 2) I lost a bundle on a certain pod race over 20 years ago, the first and only (so far) to be won by a human. (You can see me in some of the crowd footage - I'm standing behind a Rodian and I'm wearing brown.)
That was Luke's father, of course. I had put my money on Sebulba. I didn't like the cheating Dug, but I thought for sure he would win. When Skywalker Sr. won instead, I decided that I hated the kid. I mean, it was a great human interest story, but at the time, I was not in the mood for an inspiring story. I was broke.
I was surprised as anything a few years later when my neighbor Cliegg told me that he was seeing the kid's mother. Even more surprised when he bought her and brought her home. But that's another story.
Anyway, I haven't been in a few years, and the farming has been going well lately, so I decided to treat myself. I thought I should also treat Luke, since his mechanical ingenuity has been such a big help. I've already compensated Ben for the software help (I bought more of that lousy tea and agreed not to tell anyone about the man with the speeder bike), Kane for the disreputable business contacts (he's doing a koi pond - no I'm not kidding - and I'm filling it), One-Onegee for the steady hands (oil bath), and Owen for Luke's time (cash). But I wasn't sure if Owen was going to let Luke have any of the money, and I just figured the kid would get a big kick out of seeing what his father used to do.
I had to go over there anyway, to buy vegetables and ask Beru's advice on what went wrong with my chives (besides melting the pot and burning the soil). I also wanted to crow about how well the vaporators were working. I had not been able to convince Lars to try the modification, because it uses Jedix, and he just wasn't going to touch it. His loss. So, when I got there, they thought they already knew my agenda, and after a few minutes of boring grownup small talk, Luke went into the garage to, I'm not sure what exactly, slam a hammer against the hull of his T-16 for a little while is what it sounded like.
Here are the outcomes of those conversations:
1) All Beru has for veggies right now is leafy greens and fungus. No legumes. That means no fresh peas. It also means I need to buy some meat, because if I'm going to eat leafy greens and mushrooms, they'll have to be saturated with gravy. She says she's going to try root vegetables again. Ooh, that's good.
2) Smoking is bad for the plants and I shouldn't do it. Also, I shouldn't boil the water before I water the plants. I shouldn't even filter or shock it. I should just use the nasty stinky stuff right out of the recycler. Especially for Devaronian chives. I must say that was a shock. I think of plants as clean food and therefore I thought I was supposed to use clean water. Beru says no, they need nutrients and enzymes and such. I was worried about bacteria and she said that's what the slugs are for. Slugs? She said sure, and you can even train some of them to do little tricks. Uh. Thus concludes another attempt at gardening. I'll stick with hydroculture, thank you.
3) There's just no talking to Owen Lars about technology.
4) It's a good thing I waited for Luke to leave the room before I mentioned the races, and in retrospect I suppose I should have left the room first too, or better yet stayed home. All I said was, "is Luke interested in pod racing? I was thinking he might like to go to the speedway in Mos Espa with me." You would have thought I'd offered to take him to an orgy at Jabba's palace. The last thing that boy needs, I was told, is to have more big ideas in his head about traveling and fast living and questions about his father.
Owen was resolute. (In fairness, he's always resolute, about everything.) Beru looked doubtful and wanted to argue, and I suddenly realized that I had just stumbled onto a 12-year-old debate, a debate that had been going on ever since Luke was delivered to them, a debate that probably concerned Kenobi as well and that's why Owen could not share air with Kenobi and Kenobi would not discuss Luke and I couldn't talk to anybody about anything.
Awkward! A simple "no" would have sufficed.
Unfortunately, I'd already bought the tickets. I was going, at any rate. I thought of Biggs, but I didn't want to ask him and not his cousin, even though I knew she would probably say no, because I only had the one extra ticket. It turned out Darklighter was going anyway, and bringing the whole family.
There aren't any other neighborhood kids that I'm on friendly terms with, so I asked Kenobi if he wanted to go. I thought it was a simple question, but he changed his mind several times, I don't know why, and then eventually said yes. Knowing that my tickets were for terrible seats (high above some really great seats) seemed to reassure him. I think he's afraid of the cameras. I mean, he's still technically in hiding. Hardly anyone even knows about his Jedi past. But the point is, I won't have to go there alone looking like a loser with no friends.
The race is tomorrow. I'm charging up the landspeeder right now.
(Boonta Eve, incidentally, is not a Tatooine holiday. It's a Boonta holiday. I don't know what it commemorates. I assume it has something to do with the Hutts, since they are the ones who started the yearly pod-racing tradition on this planet. Boonta is the pod-racing capital of the galaxy, I realize that, but I don't know what the holiday is for.)
I don't go every year. I used to, but it got to be too expensive and time-consuming, especially after 1) I started taking my farming more seriously and 2) I lost a bundle on a certain pod race over 20 years ago, the first and only (so far) to be won by a human. (You can see me in some of the crowd footage - I'm standing behind a Rodian and I'm wearing brown.)
That was Luke's father, of course. I had put my money on Sebulba. I didn't like the cheating Dug, but I thought for sure he would win. When Skywalker Sr. won instead, I decided that I hated the kid. I mean, it was a great human interest story, but at the time, I was not in the mood for an inspiring story. I was broke.
I was surprised as anything a few years later when my neighbor Cliegg told me that he was seeing the kid's mother. Even more surprised when he bought her and brought her home. But that's another story.
Anyway, I haven't been in a few years, and the farming has been going well lately, so I decided to treat myself. I thought I should also treat Luke, since his mechanical ingenuity has been such a big help. I've already compensated Ben for the software help (I bought more of that lousy tea and agreed not to tell anyone about the man with the speeder bike), Kane for the disreputable business contacts (he's doing a koi pond - no I'm not kidding - and I'm filling it), One-Onegee for the steady hands (oil bath), and Owen for Luke's time (cash). But I wasn't sure if Owen was going to let Luke have any of the money, and I just figured the kid would get a big kick out of seeing what his father used to do.
I had to go over there anyway, to buy vegetables and ask Beru's advice on what went wrong with my chives (besides melting the pot and burning the soil). I also wanted to crow about how well the vaporators were working. I had not been able to convince Lars to try the modification, because it uses Jedix, and he just wasn't going to touch it. His loss. So, when I got there, they thought they already knew my agenda, and after a few minutes of boring grownup small talk, Luke went into the garage to, I'm not sure what exactly, slam a hammer against the hull of his T-16 for a little while is what it sounded like.
Here are the outcomes of those conversations:
1) All Beru has for veggies right now is leafy greens and fungus. No legumes. That means no fresh peas. It also means I need to buy some meat, because if I'm going to eat leafy greens and mushrooms, they'll have to be saturated with gravy. She says she's going to try root vegetables again. Ooh, that's good.
2) Smoking is bad for the plants and I shouldn't do it. Also, I shouldn't boil the water before I water the plants. I shouldn't even filter or shock it. I should just use the nasty stinky stuff right out of the recycler. Especially for Devaronian chives. I must say that was a shock. I think of plants as clean food and therefore I thought I was supposed to use clean water. Beru says no, they need nutrients and enzymes and such. I was worried about bacteria and she said that's what the slugs are for. Slugs? She said sure, and you can even train some of them to do little tricks. Uh. Thus concludes another attempt at gardening. I'll stick with hydroculture, thank you.
3) There's just no talking to Owen Lars about technology.
4) It's a good thing I waited for Luke to leave the room before I mentioned the races, and in retrospect I suppose I should have left the room first too, or better yet stayed home. All I said was, "is Luke interested in pod racing? I was thinking he might like to go to the speedway in Mos Espa with me." You would have thought I'd offered to take him to an orgy at Jabba's palace. The last thing that boy needs, I was told, is to have more big ideas in his head about traveling and fast living and questions about his father.
Owen was resolute. (In fairness, he's always resolute, about everything.) Beru looked doubtful and wanted to argue, and I suddenly realized that I had just stumbled onto a 12-year-old debate, a debate that had been going on ever since Luke was delivered to them, a debate that probably concerned Kenobi as well and that's why Owen could not share air with Kenobi and Kenobi would not discuss Luke and I couldn't talk to anybody about anything.
Awkward! A simple "no" would have sufficed.
Unfortunately, I'd already bought the tickets. I was going, at any rate. I thought of Biggs, but I didn't want to ask him and not his cousin, even though I knew she would probably say no, because I only had the one extra ticket. It turned out Darklighter was going anyway, and bringing the whole family.
There aren't any other neighborhood kids that I'm on friendly terms with, so I asked Kenobi if he wanted to go. I thought it was a simple question, but he changed his mind several times, I don't know why, and then eventually said yes. Knowing that my tickets were for terrible seats (high above some really great seats) seemed to reassure him. I think he's afraid of the cameras. I mean, he's still technically in hiding. Hardly anyone even knows about his Jedi past. But the point is, I won't have to go there alone looking like a loser with no friends.
The race is tomorrow. I'm charging up the landspeeder right now.
20050621
Modest beginnings
I won this farm as a booby prize on a game show when I was 15. Kids on Naboo are expected to start their careers at a ridiculously young age; they're allowed to change when they're older, of course, and often do, but they get an early start.
This is because of a (wholly unproven) Naboo superstition that the Naboo are unusually susceptible to senility in their middle age. You must start working as soon as possible so that you can build up a small personal fortune and/or pay hefty taxes towards a happy retirement. After age 40 or so, your brain deteriorates and you begin to get silly.
That's what we were taught as kids, but there's never been any scientific data to support or even suggest this myth of early-onset dementia. Naboo brains are physiologically no different from any other humans', although many adult Naboo still cling to the tradition as if they really believed it to be true. Perhaps they do.
Of course, it is all just a scam meant to trick Naboo youngsters into developing the kind of work ethic that would grind an older person into dust, so they can retire while they're still young enough to have some life in them, and old enough to appreciate it. And it works like a charm for most people. Even when children suspect trickery, they usually play along, because they can see the payoff.
Sadly, I couldn't. What I saw was a lot of fun to be had right away, and plenty of time to pay for it later. At the appalling age of 14, I had not yet chosen a vocation or ever held down any sort of regular paying job for more than a few weeks. My scholastic achievements had been unimpressive, and I lacked the creative talent to complement my, shall we say, artistic (i.e. disorganized) lifestyle. My parents were very worried.
Around that time, a very somber, pre-senile group of Naboo youths created a game show called Career Quest. (Naboo wit is directly proportional to age.) The winner would get a high-paying job at the Jedi temple on Coruscant. The loser would win a moisture farm on Tatooine. (Obviously, the game show's producers called in an elderly consultant to provide some irony.)
It was perfectly okay with me that I didn't win. I was happy to have a ready-made occupation handed to me. It wouldn't be very glamorous, but it wouldn't be too demanding, either.
So I thought. I was so wrong, but it all worked out eventually. I mended my mischievous ways and got the hang of moisture farming. Still, for many years, I would gaze into the night sky from time to time and wonder what my life would be like if I had won the grand prize.
I don't wonder any more. As it happens, my Career Quest opponent was still working for the Jedi, and surely killed, the day the Republic fell a dozen years ago. Soooo... yeah. I'm good.
20050614
Don't smoke, kids!
I admit it. I do indulge in a deathstick from time to time.
Also, I am a lousy horticulturist.
So, when my attempt to grow Devaronian chives failed, I had this small pot filled with very nice soil, and no actual plant. I planned to reuse the soil, but hadn't gotten around to it yet, and there I was this morning with a smoldering deathstick, and instead of stubbing it out in the sand as I usually do, I stubbed it out in the pot. Why? I don't know. Because it was there? I don't know.
I went about my errands for the day, and came back maybe seven hours later because I had left the pack of deathsticks in there and wanted another one.
I noticed that the top half of the pot, which was plastic, was scorched, and even melted in places. Apparently, my deathstick hadn't been completely extinguished, and it had burned through the organic material in the potting soil.
Disgusted, I took the pot outside to dump the ashes, and that's when I discovered that it was still smoldering.
What would have happened if I had let it go overnight? Would it have kept burning? Would the pot have melted? Would there have been a fire?
Not that it would have been a huge material loss, since there isn't a great deal around here that can burn, but still... what about smoke inhalation? I don't think I could take the irony of dying from smoke inhalation as a result of careless smoking habits.
I don't care about the melted pot, but the soil is ruined, and it'll be expensive to replace, although I'm tempted to give up gardening altogether. I know, gardening isn't as bad for me as smoking, but I'm a lot better at smoking.
Also, I am a lousy horticulturist.
So, when my attempt to grow Devaronian chives failed, I had this small pot filled with very nice soil, and no actual plant. I planned to reuse the soil, but hadn't gotten around to it yet, and there I was this morning with a smoldering deathstick, and instead of stubbing it out in the sand as I usually do, I stubbed it out in the pot. Why? I don't know. Because it was there? I don't know.
I went about my errands for the day, and came back maybe seven hours later because I had left the pack of deathsticks in there and wanted another one.
I noticed that the top half of the pot, which was plastic, was scorched, and even melted in places. Apparently, my deathstick hadn't been completely extinguished, and it had burned through the organic material in the potting soil.
Disgusted, I took the pot outside to dump the ashes, and that's when I discovered that it was still smoldering.
What would have happened if I had let it go overnight? Would it have kept burning? Would the pot have melted? Would there have been a fire?
Not that it would have been a huge material loss, since there isn't a great deal around here that can burn, but still... what about smoke inhalation? I don't think I could take the irony of dying from smoke inhalation as a result of careless smoking habits.
I don't care about the melted pot, but the soil is ruined, and it'll be expensive to replace, although I'm tempted to give up gardening altogether. I know, gardening isn't as bad for me as smoking, but I'm a lot better at smoking.
20050610
Nosey McSnooperton
I went to Kenobi's for tea. I was a little early, but I didn't think he would mind.
As I approached, I noticed an unfamiliar speeder bike outside his house. I wondered if this visitor was someone Kenobi wanted me to meet, or if it was someone who was supposed to leave soon.
Etiquette on Tatooine being what it is, I wouldn't have worried about showing up on his doorstep while he had another guest; but Kenobi is an unusually private person and I thought I should be more discreet.
I came back a little while later (and a little late) to see the bike speeding off in the opposite direction. I couldn't make out who the rider was - I think it was an adult male, but not very tall, and possibly not human. Either his skin was black and red, or he was just wearing a tight-fitting mask of some type. With little tufts of yellowish hair along the top? Whoever it was, I didn't recognize him.
Kenobi didn't realize that I had noticed, or perhaps he was pretending not to realize. Either way, he wasn't going to discuss it with me. He apologized for not having the tea ready.
I hate tea and I think it is a ridiculous beverage. When you live on a planet as dry as Tatooine, it doesn't make sense to drink something that makes you urinate. It's usually too hot for tea, anyway. What's more, while I admit I am no expert, I have a feeling that Kenobi's tea and cleanliness standards are perhaps not very high. I refer to the occasional dead insect I find floating among the little leaves.
So I said, "that's all right, a cup of plain water would be fine. Is there anything wrong?"
Kenobi shrugged as he set the water to heat. (Most people drink their water just-boiled, even if they have to cool it off first.) Whatever was on his mind was going to remain a secret. In fact, for a while, he didn't even seem to remember why he had invited me.
We made awkward small talk for a while longer, and finally I blurted out, "look, if that guy on the bike was bothering you..."
Kenobi made that odd gesture that he makes when he is feeling impatient. He said, "that doesn't matter. Have some water."
"That doesn't matter," I agreed. Suddenly I was thirsty.
I hate it when he does that.
After that, we talked about the recent storm, and my crazy visit with the Darklighters, and finally Kenobi relaxed enough to explain why he had invited me.
At this point, I should explain that Kenobi is the person to talk to about software. Most of the farmers run their vaporators on Microsith or Macrostiff products, but I've been using Jedix for as long as I've known Kenobi, and I have less computer trouble than anyone I know. It's faster, more secure, and free. It's not very sexy, but then, I don't think that it's very sexy if six different farmers' vaporator control systems crash for an entire week just because someone felt like opening an email with the subject "CLICK ME!.. If Babies were Banthas..."
Maybe it's just me.
Kenobi wanted to show me that he had found a way to network a group of vaporators together such that they would each communicate directly to a common host machine instead of in a circuit. This is something you cannot do with other software. In fact, I didn't even think you could do it with Jedix.
And, as it happens, maybe you can't do it with Jedix either, because there's an obvious hardware limitation in that an agricultural or industrial vaporator expects to be a link in a chain, and not have both read and write privileges to the same device. (Residential vaporators aren't a solution either because they have standalone processors and don't communicate with a separate computer at all.)
I know that probably sounds like a ludicrous problem, but perhaps now you understand my frustration with the state of technological development under the Empire's control. There are countless, small improvements that could be made to all kinds of existing consumer and industrial products, but if the Empire isn't interested, it doesn't happen.
Kenobi stroked his beard for a while, seemingly miffed by my wet-blanket attitude. I didn't mean to be negative; I was just saying that great ideas alone are not enough.
"You know who could probably do this?" I offered in the way of concession.
"Don't say it," Kenobi warned.
"What is it with you and Lars?" I asked. "Is it Owen? Or is it Luke?"
Well, that did it. I should have known better than to open that can of Regulan bloodworms again, but it was a legitimate question. This thing, whatever it is, goes way beyond regular awkwardness. This is something that makes everyone in and around Anchorhead uncomfortable, and no one really understands why; only that you can't mention Kenobi to Lars, and you can't mention Luke to Kenobi. Even in the context of ordinary every day life, or in fulfilling a simple business need.
I have a feeling that Luke would love for someone to discuss all of this with him, but it's something that Kenobi and Lars are going to have to work out on their own.
I finally got Kenobi to agree that I could take the software and simply explain the hardware situation to Luke and Owen without mentioning Kenobi's involvement.
I thought that was my idea, anyway. But if I was coming up with my own ideas, why did I end up paying him for a small can of stale tea leaves?
Huh. I hate it when he does that.
"You love it," he said with a dismissive wave.
"I love it," I said. At least I was laughing.
As I approached, I noticed an unfamiliar speeder bike outside his house. I wondered if this visitor was someone Kenobi wanted me to meet, or if it was someone who was supposed to leave soon.
Etiquette on Tatooine being what it is, I wouldn't have worried about showing up on his doorstep while he had another guest; but Kenobi is an unusually private person and I thought I should be more discreet.
I came back a little while later (and a little late) to see the bike speeding off in the opposite direction. I couldn't make out who the rider was - I think it was an adult male, but not very tall, and possibly not human. Either his skin was black and red, or he was just wearing a tight-fitting mask of some type. With little tufts of yellowish hair along the top? Whoever it was, I didn't recognize him.
Kenobi didn't realize that I had noticed, or perhaps he was pretending not to realize. Either way, he wasn't going to discuss it with me. He apologized for not having the tea ready.
I hate tea and I think it is a ridiculous beverage. When you live on a planet as dry as Tatooine, it doesn't make sense to drink something that makes you urinate. It's usually too hot for tea, anyway. What's more, while I admit I am no expert, I have a feeling that Kenobi's tea and cleanliness standards are perhaps not very high. I refer to the occasional dead insect I find floating among the little leaves.
So I said, "that's all right, a cup of plain water would be fine. Is there anything wrong?"
Kenobi shrugged as he set the water to heat. (Most people drink their water just-boiled, even if they have to cool it off first.) Whatever was on his mind was going to remain a secret. In fact, for a while, he didn't even seem to remember why he had invited me.
We made awkward small talk for a while longer, and finally I blurted out, "look, if that guy on the bike was bothering you..."
Kenobi made that odd gesture that he makes when he is feeling impatient. He said, "that doesn't matter. Have some water."
"That doesn't matter," I agreed. Suddenly I was thirsty.
I hate it when he does that.
After that, we talked about the recent storm, and my crazy visit with the Darklighters, and finally Kenobi relaxed enough to explain why he had invited me.
At this point, I should explain that Kenobi is the person to talk to about software. Most of the farmers run their vaporators on Microsith or Macrostiff products, but I've been using Jedix for as long as I've known Kenobi, and I have less computer trouble than anyone I know. It's faster, more secure, and free. It's not very sexy, but then, I don't think that it's very sexy if six different farmers' vaporator control systems crash for an entire week just because someone felt like opening an email with the subject "CLICK ME!.. If Babies were Banthas..."
Maybe it's just me.
Kenobi wanted to show me that he had found a way to network a group of vaporators together such that they would each communicate directly to a common host machine instead of in a circuit. This is something you cannot do with other software. In fact, I didn't even think you could do it with Jedix.
And, as it happens, maybe you can't do it with Jedix either, because there's an obvious hardware limitation in that an agricultural or industrial vaporator expects to be a link in a chain, and not have both read and write privileges to the same device. (Residential vaporators aren't a solution either because they have standalone processors and don't communicate with a separate computer at all.)
I know that probably sounds like a ludicrous problem, but perhaps now you understand my frustration with the state of technological development under the Empire's control. There are countless, small improvements that could be made to all kinds of existing consumer and industrial products, but if the Empire isn't interested, it doesn't happen.
Kenobi stroked his beard for a while, seemingly miffed by my wet-blanket attitude. I didn't mean to be negative; I was just saying that great ideas alone are not enough.
"You know who could probably do this?" I offered in the way of concession.
"Don't say it," Kenobi warned.
"What is it with you and Lars?" I asked. "Is it Owen? Or is it Luke?"
Well, that did it. I should have known better than to open that can of Regulan bloodworms again, but it was a legitimate question. This thing, whatever it is, goes way beyond regular awkwardness. This is something that makes everyone in and around Anchorhead uncomfortable, and no one really understands why; only that you can't mention Kenobi to Lars, and you can't mention Luke to Kenobi. Even in the context of ordinary every day life, or in fulfilling a simple business need.
I have a feeling that Luke would love for someone to discuss all of this with him, but it's something that Kenobi and Lars are going to have to work out on their own.
I finally got Kenobi to agree that I could take the software and simply explain the hardware situation to Luke and Owen without mentioning Kenobi's involvement.
I thought that was my idea, anyway. But if I was coming up with my own ideas, why did I end up paying him for a small can of stale tea leaves?
Huh. I hate it when he does that.
"You love it," he said with a dismissive wave.
"I love it," I said. At least I was laughing.
20050609
Keep your silver lining - I'm here for the clouds
One nice thing about the storm - it blew a lot of unexpected moisture our way. I'd be happier about that if all my vaporators were up to spec, of course, but until the storm there was so little moisture I could hardly tell if they were working at all.
20050608
Catching up
I still haven't really gotten the hang of this blogging thing. I need to post more regularly, because if I don't, stuff piles up.
I didn't mean to be offline for so long, but it has been a BUSY week. Here's my executive summary:
1. My visit at the Darklighters' was lengthened by what the weather people are now describing as the worst sandstorm in ten years. I've been on this planet for 40 years and it hasn't been that bad for as long as I can remember. Fortunately, the Darklighters have a great repulsor system so we didn't get stuck. I left their place two days later than expected (waiting for the storm to let up a bit) and was relieved to see that my repulsor field had held up more or less okay too. One-Onegee made up the difference with our trusty shovel. I get frustrated with that droid, but I have to admit I couldn't get along without it.
2. I had no idea the Darklighters were so cool. Or so smart. Or so crazy. Seriously, it was great staying with them and getting to know them, but it was also pretty great getting home. The Hutt crime stories and Empire conspiracy theories were entertaining at first, but when I realized that Kane and Dofi were serious, they kinda started giving me the creeps. That's going to have to be a post in itself. BTW, there was neither pea soup nor pea cake. The peas weren't for me at all, apparently.
3. Speaking of giving me the creeps, I've got an order in for three cases of condenser coils, two cases of humector panels, and a big box of odds and ends. Kane tells me these parts may have "fallen off the back of a freighter" and I suspect that the shipment is probably part of the "legitimate" cargo in a big spice shipment for the Hutts. I am not entirely comfortable with this arrangement, but I can't argue with the price. I am getting a huge discount, and paying next to nothing for the shipping.
4. Some of the Guild farmers want to go to Bestine for a protest. I'm thinking about it. It will depend on when they decide to go and how long it will take me to make all the repairs and upgrades I need to do.
5. Some Jawas came by trying to peddle assorted junk. They must be pretty desperate, going door to door. I can't abide those filthy creatures. One time, one of Owen's droids' probe arms broke off somewhere on their property (this is why I don't buy those cheap R5 units) and got "lost." A few days later, a Jawa came to their door wanting to sell the arm back to them. I think the neighbors and I are all pretty much in agreement that the Jawas are going to have to stop making unannounced house calls. Maybe we can make a deal with them to park their sandcrawler someplace and let us know in advance.
6. I ran into Kenobi at Tosche Station and he invited me over for tea (yes, you read that right, TEA... he's a strange guy). The weird thing was that I was with Owen at the time, and when Kenobi approached us, Owen got a look on his face like he thought they were going to have a duel. Kenobi was polite, and said that Owen should join us for tea as well, but Owen just scowled.
Well, that's the week in a frogshell. I can't wait to find out what Kenobi wants to talk about (you see, it's never JUST tea, with that guy).
I didn't mean to be offline for so long, but it has been a BUSY week. Here's my executive summary:
1. My visit at the Darklighters' was lengthened by what the weather people are now describing as the worst sandstorm in ten years. I've been on this planet for 40 years and it hasn't been that bad for as long as I can remember. Fortunately, the Darklighters have a great repulsor system so we didn't get stuck. I left their place two days later than expected (waiting for the storm to let up a bit) and was relieved to see that my repulsor field had held up more or less okay too. One-Onegee made up the difference with our trusty shovel. I get frustrated with that droid, but I have to admit I couldn't get along without it.
2. I had no idea the Darklighters were so cool. Or so smart. Or so crazy. Seriously, it was great staying with them and getting to know them, but it was also pretty great getting home. The Hutt crime stories and Empire conspiracy theories were entertaining at first, but when I realized that Kane and Dofi were serious, they kinda started giving me the creeps. That's going to have to be a post in itself. BTW, there was neither pea soup nor pea cake. The peas weren't for me at all, apparently.
3. Speaking of giving me the creeps, I've got an order in for three cases of condenser coils, two cases of humector panels, and a big box of odds and ends. Kane tells me these parts may have "fallen off the back of a freighter" and I suspect that the shipment is probably part of the "legitimate" cargo in a big spice shipment for the Hutts. I am not entirely comfortable with this arrangement, but I can't argue with the price. I am getting a huge discount, and paying next to nothing for the shipping.
4. Some of the Guild farmers want to go to Bestine for a protest. I'm thinking about it. It will depend on when they decide to go and how long it will take me to make all the repairs and upgrades I need to do.
5. Some Jawas came by trying to peddle assorted junk. They must be pretty desperate, going door to door. I can't abide those filthy creatures. One time, one of Owen's droids' probe arms broke off somewhere on their property (this is why I don't buy those cheap R5 units) and got "lost." A few days later, a Jawa came to their door wanting to sell the arm back to them. I think the neighbors and I are all pretty much in agreement that the Jawas are going to have to stop making unannounced house calls. Maybe we can make a deal with them to park their sandcrawler someplace and let us know in advance.
6. I ran into Kenobi at Tosche Station and he invited me over for tea (yes, you read that right, TEA... he's a strange guy). The weird thing was that I was with Owen at the time, and when Kenobi approached us, Owen got a look on his face like he thought they were going to have a duel. Kenobi was polite, and said that Owen should join us for tea as well, but Owen just scowled.
Well, that's the week in a frogshell. I can't wait to find out what Kenobi wants to talk about (you see, it's never JUST tea, with that guy).
20050601
Peas and parts
The point - which I forgot to make - of all that previous ranting was that I need parts. I am reaching a crisis point with some of my vaporators. Everything seems to be breaking at once and no one has what I need. And of course it's the kind of situation where even buying a whole new vaporator wouldn't really solve the problem, because the same parts keep breaking in all of them. What I need is not a new vaporator, but several cases of coils. Preferably from some alternative manufacturer. And bought with WHAT money, exactly? Harvest time is still a ways off, and of course if I don't get these things fixed it won't be much of a harvest.
I was still stewing over this when I went to the market for some provisions and ran into little Biggs Darklighter, who is getting to be not so little lately. In fact, I think he is trying to grow a mustache. Or he might just need to wash more often. It's hard to tell, at his age.
It's a little-known, and somewhat uninteresting fact, that the Darklighters used to live at the Lars place. They were tenants, and the owner was some off-planet corporation. When that owner died, the new owner (who I think was actually distantly related to Ben Kenobi in some way) sold the place to Cliegg Lars. Meanwhile, the Darklighters moved to another area and got into mushroom farming, which led to other things, and they got into a partnership with the Hutts, and made a lot of money and came back here and built an impressive place.
But I digress. Little Biggs was there with his mother and his cousin, and with very little provocation I started griping about the equipment situation again. I confess, I don't really know the Darklighters well, and I only know Biggs because he is always loafing around the game room at Tosche Station with the other local kids. Unlike the other kids, he's hyper-social and seems to be fascinated with talking to adults about any subject. I can't figure out whether he is truly mature beyond his years, or if he's just an Eddie Haskell type of character who's good at making an impression on adults, but I have to give credit where it's due. He's a bright kid and the best thing his parents can do for him is to get him into a good school as soon as possible. They're working on it, but the mischief he gets into could interfere with that.
Biggs has a way of getting people to talk, without saying much himself. He'd make a great spy. I don't even know how he got me started, but before I knew it, he was writing down a list of all the parts I needed, and his mother Dofi was watching over his shoulder and nodding with an "oh yeah, this sounds familiar" look on her face. (Cousin Mary Sue was sulking in the background, rolling her freakishly violet eyes impatiently. Apparently, I was spoiling her shopping trip.)
Dofi invited me over for dinner. That was a surprise, since we've never been particularly social before, but she seemed to think that Kane could help me out with my list. I figured, what the heck. I noticed a bag of split peas in her basket, which could mean pea soup, and that's all the incentive I need.
Of course, it could also be pea cake. But I'm feeling lucky. More tomorrow.
I was still stewing over this when I went to the market for some provisions and ran into little Biggs Darklighter, who is getting to be not so little lately. In fact, I think he is trying to grow a mustache. Or he might just need to wash more often. It's hard to tell, at his age.
It's a little-known, and somewhat uninteresting fact, that the Darklighters used to live at the Lars place. They were tenants, and the owner was some off-planet corporation. When that owner died, the new owner (who I think was actually distantly related to Ben Kenobi in some way) sold the place to Cliegg Lars. Meanwhile, the Darklighters moved to another area and got into mushroom farming, which led to other things, and they got into a partnership with the Hutts, and made a lot of money and came back here and built an impressive place.
But I digress. Little Biggs was there with his mother and his cousin, and with very little provocation I started griping about the equipment situation again. I confess, I don't really know the Darklighters well, and I only know Biggs because he is always loafing around the game room at Tosche Station with the other local kids. Unlike the other kids, he's hyper-social and seems to be fascinated with talking to adults about any subject. I can't figure out whether he is truly mature beyond his years, or if he's just an Eddie Haskell type of character who's good at making an impression on adults, but I have to give credit where it's due. He's a bright kid and the best thing his parents can do for him is to get him into a good school as soon as possible. They're working on it, but the mischief he gets into could interfere with that.
Biggs has a way of getting people to talk, without saying much himself. He'd make a great spy. I don't even know how he got me started, but before I knew it, he was writing down a list of all the parts I needed, and his mother Dofi was watching over his shoulder and nodding with an "oh yeah, this sounds familiar" look on her face. (Cousin Mary Sue was sulking in the background, rolling her freakishly violet eyes impatiently. Apparently, I was spoiling her shopping trip.)
Dofi invited me over for dinner. That was a surprise, since we've never been particularly social before, but she seemed to think that Kane could help me out with my list. I figured, what the heck. I noticed a bag of split peas in her basket, which could mean pea soup, and that's all the incentive I need.
Of course, it could also be pea cake. But I'm feeling lucky. More tomorrow.
Parts
Sometimes I feel like this whole place is falling in around my ears.
Fixing vaporators, or anything else on this planet for that matter, has become increasingly difficult over the years. It's not because the technology has been advancing too fast: on the contrary, most technologies have pretty much stagnated in the last ten years or so, which means your mechanical skills never get outdated.
The trouble is that it gets harder and harder to find replacement parts. It's always been a hassle to get things out here; the shipping fees are astronomical. (No pun intended.) But a lot of the industrial manufacturers have either gone out of business or been taken over by the Empire to build war machines in the last decade or so.
There is exactly ONE company that still makes new vaporators and parts. They are exactly the quality and price you would expect from a company that has no competitors.
A new condenser coil for a medium-size agro/industrial vaporator costs around 75. That's not a bad price. But shipping is 450! And that's PER coil! Because the factory is on Coruscant (the alleged bright spot in this galaxy), and we're out here.
But you're in luck! If the coil breaks while it is still under warranty, you can pay another 450 to send it back and they will refund your 75 credits. Don't spend it all in one place.
You can see why we don't like to buy new replacement parts from the factory. The vaporators are not cheap to buy or ship either, obviously, but they are a slightly better deal if you think of them as a bulk purchase of spare parts. The Guild puts in an order for a couple of new vaporators each year for this reason.
Most often, when I need a new part, I start by looking at my own dead vaporator collection to see if I already have what I need. If not, I ask around, and if I have to, I'll go into town and see if I can find it at a junkyard. (Salvage was always profitable on Tatooine, but it's been insane ever since the Empire took over the Republic.) As a last resort, I will check online and see if something is available within a few parsecs. Only if I am absolutely sure that the right part isn't available used, I'll get a new one from the Guild. But it's expensive.
And all that would still be bearable if the parts were compatible. They hardly ever are. Usually, they are different sizes, different brands, sometimes even different technologies. You almost always have to rig either the part or the vaporator (sometimes both) in order to get them to play nice together.
What I'm saying is that if you're looking for a compressor, you're lucky to find one at all. If it actually works and you don't have to repair it before you install it, you can consider yourself very fortunate indeed. And if it's truly compatible with the vaporator you're transplanting it into, you will probably kill yourself because you'll know that you've just had the luckiest day of your life and it's all going to be downhill from then on.
Don't even get me STARTED on what this does to the software.
The Skywalker kid is pretty good at the hardware retrofits. Kenobi (who isn't a moisture farmer but insists on using a residential vaporator that's always on the verge of collapse) is miserable with hardware, but he's a genius with software. You'd think Lars would see a sorely-needed business opportunity there, but... well, there's a lot of weirdness between Lars and Kenobi which I'm not sure I really understand, and I can't get into it now. Suffice it to say that I would really like to knock their heads together.
Next time Owen Lars complains that he can't find a decent water level sensor, I'm going to remind him what it was like when his father was running the farm, when the techno-industrial sector was thriving and healthy and you had a choice of coils, sensors, etc. I don't think he remembers how much better things were before the Empire took over and I don't think he's able to imagine how much worse they can get. Sure Coruscant is far away, but the misery is going to trickle out here sooner or later.
Fixing vaporators, or anything else on this planet for that matter, has become increasingly difficult over the years. It's not because the technology has been advancing too fast: on the contrary, most technologies have pretty much stagnated in the last ten years or so, which means your mechanical skills never get outdated.
The trouble is that it gets harder and harder to find replacement parts. It's always been a hassle to get things out here; the shipping fees are astronomical. (No pun intended.) But a lot of the industrial manufacturers have either gone out of business or been taken over by the Empire to build war machines in the last decade or so.
There is exactly ONE company that still makes new vaporators and parts. They are exactly the quality and price you would expect from a company that has no competitors.
A new condenser coil for a medium-size agro/industrial vaporator costs around 75. That's not a bad price. But shipping is 450! And that's PER coil! Because the factory is on Coruscant (the alleged bright spot in this galaxy), and we're out here.
But you're in luck! If the coil breaks while it is still under warranty, you can pay another 450 to send it back and they will refund your 75 credits. Don't spend it all in one place.
You can see why we don't like to buy new replacement parts from the factory. The vaporators are not cheap to buy or ship either, obviously, but they are a slightly better deal if you think of them as a bulk purchase of spare parts. The Guild puts in an order for a couple of new vaporators each year for this reason.
Most often, when I need a new part, I start by looking at my own dead vaporator collection to see if I already have what I need. If not, I ask around, and if I have to, I'll go into town and see if I can find it at a junkyard. (Salvage was always profitable on Tatooine, but it's been insane ever since the Empire took over the Republic.) As a last resort, I will check online and see if something is available within a few parsecs. Only if I am absolutely sure that the right part isn't available used, I'll get a new one from the Guild. But it's expensive.
And all that would still be bearable if the parts were compatible. They hardly ever are. Usually, they are different sizes, different brands, sometimes even different technologies. You almost always have to rig either the part or the vaporator (sometimes both) in order to get them to play nice together.
What I'm saying is that if you're looking for a compressor, you're lucky to find one at all. If it actually works and you don't have to repair it before you install it, you can consider yourself very fortunate indeed. And if it's truly compatible with the vaporator you're transplanting it into, you will probably kill yourself because you'll know that you've just had the luckiest day of your life and it's all going to be downhill from then on.
Don't even get me STARTED on what this does to the software.
The Skywalker kid is pretty good at the hardware retrofits. Kenobi (who isn't a moisture farmer but insists on using a residential vaporator that's always on the verge of collapse) is miserable with hardware, but he's a genius with software. You'd think Lars would see a sorely-needed business opportunity there, but... well, there's a lot of weirdness between Lars and Kenobi which I'm not sure I really understand, and I can't get into it now. Suffice it to say that I would really like to knock their heads together.
Next time Owen Lars complains that he can't find a decent water level sensor, I'm going to remind him what it was like when his father was running the farm, when the techno-industrial sector was thriving and healthy and you had a choice of coils, sensors, etc. I don't think he remembers how much better things were before the Empire took over and I don't think he's able to imagine how much worse they can get. Sure Coruscant is far away, but the misery is going to trickle out here sooner or later.
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