Speaker 1: Cool Zone Media.
Speaker 2: Book Club book Club book Club book Club. It's the
Speaker 2: Cool Zone Media book Club, which is a book club
Speaker 2: where I read you a story. I'm Margaret Kildre. I'm
Speaker 2: the I in the aforementioned I read you a story.
Speaker 2: People say that pronouns are hard, but I is an
Speaker 2: example of a pronoun and I bet you've used it.
Speaker 2: I bet you can figure it out. You might have guessed.
Speaker 2: The other thing you might have figured out is that
Speaker 2: I don't have a guest today. It's just me. I'm
Speaker 2: gonna read you a story. It's a me reading you
Speaker 2: all bus story. That's today. You all are the guests.
Speaker 2: Every single one of you is welcome the Cool Zone
Speaker 2: Media book Club. Okay, so today we got sci fi
Speaker 2: story for you and it is by SJ. Klupecky. Who's
Speaker 2: s J. Clopecky. I'm glad you asked, because I'm going
Speaker 2: to read their bio.
Speaker 1: S J.
Speaker 2: Clipecky is a writer from the North of Canada who
Speaker 2: focuses on queer themes in the way that power interacts
Speaker 2: with people. Starting from anarchist principles, they write science fiction
Speaker 2: and fantasy about those who do not fit within the norm.
Speaker 2: You can find them at s j klup heck writing
Speaker 2: on Twitter, which is s J k l A p
Speaker 2: e c writing on Twitter. This story is called Printed
Speaker 2: Guns and Sold Schematics. So get yourself your whatever you
Speaker 2: it's Sunday. Don't don't drink whiskey early in the morning
Speaker 2: on Sunday unless you really want to t Get yourself
Speaker 2: here some tea or whatever you would like, and cozy
Speaker 2: up because you're the guest today. Printed Guns and Sold
Speaker 2: Schematics by s J. Clipecki. The weapons of the future suck.
Speaker 2: Everyone imagined great sci fi glassings, the world being reduced
Speaker 2: to a gray nanite sludge, some viral contagion that only
Speaker 2: kills men, or some shit. But it's none of that.
Speaker 2: It's drones, not even the proper Lockheed Martin ones. Instead
Speaker 2: their quad copters, the type rich kids get when their
Speaker 2: parents feel bad for divorcing. Only some assholes strapped a
Speaker 2: bomb to them too. The market for guns is still big,
Speaker 2: but they changed made of layers of printed plastic, doped
Speaker 2: with as much metal as needed to keep it together,
Speaker 2: and not an iota more. I have a pepperbox revolver
Speaker 2: I printed myself, strapped to my chest. The hard edge
Speaker 2: of an unsanded handle digs into my breast. The gun's
Speaker 2: a hack job, made before I left and without any
Speaker 2: my usual care put into it. But it's six shots
Speaker 2: of nine to nineteen parabellium that I can't go without
Speaker 2: in my pocket. There's a USB on that USB. There's
Speaker 2: designs that were originally made by an afghanji hottist, iterated
Speaker 2: upon by an American Nazi, taken by a French anarchist,
Speaker 2: and changed before being sent to me. Another American Darwin
Speaker 2: would be proud of how quickly things now evolve, how
Speaker 2: they iterate and phil niches. The compound I was told
Speaker 2: to go to is a small place, at least small
Speaker 2: for compounds that radical groups hang out in fifty acres
Speaker 2: of land in the middle of fucking nowhere. I know
Speaker 2: it's the right place because the only way in is
Speaker 2: a break in the birch trees. There's a sign that
Speaker 2: reads Clarefield Farm standing outside. Those are the two clues
Speaker 2: I was given as a standard. No phone, no way
Speaker 2: to trace me if I'm not carrying anything with a signal.
Speaker 2: Even if the state security APPARATUSUS have collapsed, others might
Speaker 2: want my trail. Sadly, that means no GPS. There's a
Speaker 2: building in the middle of nowhere with its lights on.
Speaker 2: It doesn't look new, retrofitted, so the roof is covered
Speaker 2: with solar panels. A red flag is illuminated from behind,
Speaker 2: the words Montana Free Corps in bold gold lettering glowing
Speaker 2: from the window. I wonder briefly how many different compounds exist,
Speaker 2: how many radicals stake out just across the border, flitting
Speaker 2: back and forth. But it doesn't matter. This is the place.
Speaker 2: I let out a sigh of relief and walk right
Speaker 2: on up. A blinking camera shifts this attention to me.
Speaker 2: The disembodied eye of some security guards staring I wave.
Speaker 2: An intercom lights up. A gruff, deep voice speaks, demanding
Speaker 2: my name and the passcode Rahai Yotan's daughter. I replied
Speaker 2: the fake name. I gave them Buck the front power
Speaker 2: to the people. I feel silly even saying it, but
Speaker 2: I don't control the passcodes that the clients give me.
Speaker 2: I don't control their ideologies or what they do, or
Speaker 2: what stupid things they obsess over. It's not like it matters,
Speaker 2: so long as they're good on their cash. There's a
Speaker 2: moment of waiting. I tap my foot on the ground expectantly.
Speaker 2: Rain dribbles down my back, cold and uncomfortable. Wish they'd
Speaker 2: hurried up so I could at least be a little
Speaker 2: bit dry. Don't know how good a bunch of leftists
Speaker 2: are for hospitality, but when dealing with the type of
Speaker 2: people who run out to the woods to do a
Speaker 2: bunch of training, it's always a mixed bag. Sometimes it's
Speaker 2: a bunch of unwashed men who keep thinking you're there
Speaker 2: to get with them. Sometimes it's a polite group of
Speaker 2: ideologues who try to win you over with tea, biscuits
Speaker 2: and god awful pamphlets. Sometimes it's just the smell of
Speaker 2: gunpowder and laconic grunts until the transaction is over. The
Speaker 2: last one is always the one I hope for, quick clean,
Speaker 2: done in and out. A boy greets me. His voice
Speaker 2: is squeaky. He's young, no older than nineteen. If I
Speaker 2: had to guess, he's wearing a beret and a T
Speaker 2: shirt with from some punk band. I don't recognize. A
Speaker 2: beard that refuses to grow as much as he's been trying,
Speaker 2: and a revolver strapped to his waist. The smell of
Speaker 2: gunpowder and weed hits me as the warmth of the
Speaker 2: house bleeds out come in, he says. I step inside.
Speaker 2: The door closes behind me. A low sigh escapes involuntary
Speaker 2: from my mouth. I take off my jacket. Underneath is
Speaker 2: a thin polyester windbreaker. Under that my revolver. I don't
Speaker 2: feel the need to strip further. As I put my
Speaker 2: jacket on the coat rack, the squeaky voiced man asked
Speaker 2: me a question you hear about the I have the schematics.
Speaker 2: I am kurt, but not rude, measured, someone who seems
Speaker 2: even tempered, mild if direct. The man shifts uncomfortably. He
Speaker 2: must have wanted more from me, an apology for lateness.
Speaker 2: Perhaps I run my fingers through damp, short hair. Maybe
Speaker 2: he heard my name expecting someone more ladylike than my
Speaker 2: make up list demeanor gives off no matter. I shake
Speaker 2: my hands dry and clasp them in front of me.
Speaker 2: Your name is, I ask Louis? He says, in the
Speaker 2: French pronunciation, I'm louis. Probably a nom de guere based
Speaker 2: on some FLQ member or something. I can't remember too
Speaker 2: much about history. That's not where I bake my bread. Well, Louis,
Speaker 2: I try to shake off the cold of the storm
Speaker 2: as I speak. Wouldn't want to come across as rude,
Speaker 2: now would I I was told there would be a
Speaker 2: commander or something I would be meeting or something the
Speaker 2: guy who wanted me to sell you all what I have.
Speaker 2: Louis's face changes. I can see that he's trying to
Speaker 2: figure me out, read me as best as he can,
Speaker 2: and process new information. I don't know if he was
Speaker 2: told why I was coming here. I doubt it. He
Speaker 2: didn't see him in the inner cadre, so to speak, Yeah,
Speaker 2: that would be uh. He's raking his mind. I can
Speaker 2: see the confusion on his face, the way his eyes
Speaker 2: scrunch a little as he searches for a name, or
Speaker 2: maybe as he figures out what name to use. Half
Speaker 2: these guys use a half dozen names, not that I
Speaker 2: can judge, right, I'll get them for you. I don't
Speaker 2: know who I expect, but it's sure as hell not
Speaker 2: who shows up. Funny how after years of dealing you
Speaker 2: never really clear that image out of your mind of
Speaker 2: the rebel leader with a beard, a beret, a hopeful
Speaker 2: and youthful look. Chay is burned into the neurons of
Speaker 2: my brain that I associate with rebel, but I've never
Speaker 2: seen a chay. The man I see before me is clean, shaven, dower.
Speaker 2: He looks in pain based on the limp my eyes
Speaker 2: trailed down, and a medical brace is tight around his leg,
Speaker 2: which he had shown up sooner. He says. He sounds old,
Speaker 2: maybe in his forties, with a gruff voice, the type
Speaker 2: someone gets from a packa day smoking a cigarette. Isn't
Speaker 2: in his mouth right now, but it's a matter of time.
Speaker 2: I don't particularly like speeding when I'm carrying a legal stuff,
Speaker 2: doubly so when it's pissing brain outside. I say that
Speaker 2: gets a smirk out of him. He understands, So what
Speaker 2: do you got from me? M We discussed it on
Speaker 2: h fuck. I can't remember they squashed these sites as
Speaker 2: soon as they pop up. No, they don't, not since
Speaker 2: the Americans started fighting in their homelands more than they
Speaker 2: did in the overseas ventures. Five Eyes collapsed when the
Speaker 2: central government did an anti insurgency, turned from that flawed
Speaker 2: system of panopticonic internet trawling and investigation to whack a
Speaker 2: moles that none of their allies could handle on their own.
Speaker 2: I remember exactly the site, I remember the username, the
Speaker 2: contact used. I know this game and sidestep the implied
Speaker 2: question I have. I look around the hall. Bookshelves are
Speaker 2: full of radical literature. Bookchin lenin. I don't care all
Speaker 2: of a maw or two well read radicals across their
Speaker 2: own narrow spectrum of ideas. An idea strikes a good
Speaker 2: idea of political power to hand over if you're keeping
Speaker 2: your end of the bargain. He smirks a grin. He
Speaker 2: liked the reference to the old warlord. Play to the customer,
Speaker 2: keep them thinking I'm on their side. I won't mention
Speaker 2: that the Christian Front made me an offer too. Yes, well,
Speaker 2: maybe you can tell me a little bit more about
Speaker 2: the form that power takes. He raises a hand to
Speaker 2: his face, scratches behind his ear. If I recall it
Speaker 2: was an anti tank round a nod. It isn't, but
Speaker 2: the differences are slight when it comes to blowing up technicals.
Speaker 2: It's a squash head round that could be mass printed
Speaker 2: with basic three D metallurgic techniques. The last guy you
Speaker 2: touched it didn't trust the plastic to hold and overcompensate
Speaker 2: it with the metal. That's probably the design you're using.
Speaker 2: If you printed them right now, I actually know what
Speaker 2: I'm doing, so a gesture as I speak, trying to
Speaker 2: sound unrehearsed and on the fly. I modified the design
Speaker 2: to use fifteen percent less material with only a five
Speaker 2: percent reduction of material strength. And that's irrelevant to your purposes.
Speaker 2: If you're using this in rockets, you're using them in rockets,
Speaker 2: right you heard. I'm sure about the people in Kansas
Speaker 2: who blew themselves up trying to stick something like this
Speaker 2: in an M seventy nine. Dropping out of that engineering
Speaker 2: course is the best damn choice of my life, all
Speaker 2: things considered. They hadn't yet beaten safety pro to call
Speaker 2: into my brain, but they sure taught me a lot
Speaker 2: about material science, how plastic flexes and bends, and how
Speaker 2: it snaps breaks on a windshield and sends glass and
Speaker 2: tannerite into the eyes of a driver fractions of a
Speaker 2: second before the detonator goes off. He nods approvingly and
Speaker 2: waves Louis away, because, dear listener, who is of course
Speaker 2: our guest, this man knows a good deal when he
Speaker 2: hears one, and I think you know a good deal too,
Speaker 2: which is why all of our ads are for good deals.
Speaker 2: And you can totally trust me, because I'm saying this
Speaker 2: not coerced by a capitalist system. I just genuinely believe
Speaker 2: in everything you're about to hear. And we're back. Come
Speaker 2: on inside, he urges. His voice is warm and cheerful now,
Speaker 2: as though he's trying to put some fatherly affect into
Speaker 2: his words. Water off A Duck's back to me, do
Speaker 2: you drink tea? I reply? Nothing harder A call for
Speaker 2: someone else, someone named Isabel, to put a pot on,
Speaker 2: A half hearted reply that she's been putting too much
Speaker 2: pot on tonight. I stiffle a laugh, don't trouble yourself.
Speaker 2: Then I insist. The older man leads me deeper into
Speaker 2: the house. We passed through the main hall, a kitchen
Speaker 2: messy and with a sink full of dishes. A barracks
Speaker 2: or something like it, with a dozen or so bunk
Speaker 2: beds crammed together. People sleep soundly, despite haligen Court's lights
Speaker 2: burning over them. One of the rooms has been converted
Speaker 2: into an impromptu armory, printing caseines for bombs and upper
Speaker 2: receivers for rifles. Someone is working on a quadrone, trying
Speaker 2: to armor O the limbs, don't I point to the drone.
Speaker 2: The arms can take it. You need to focus on
Speaker 2: the rotors. Any good great bird shot will tear those up.
Speaker 2: The armorer is a woman. Faded black dye covers up
Speaker 2: her blonde roots. Her shoulders drop, and she smirks at me.
Speaker 2: If I had to guess, she'd been telling people the same,
Speaker 2: but only now did someone agree with her. She holds
Speaker 2: her gaze at me for a fraction too long before
Speaker 2: nodding and getting back to work. If this was a
Speaker 2: different context, I'd hoped to heaven she was gay too.
Speaker 2: But it's not good business to flirt on the job, right, Well,
Speaker 2: we got those designs from a person and occupy. He
Speaker 2: tries to justify himself his mistake. Everyone does, and they're wrong.
Speaker 2: I cut the man off, so survivorship bias probably wasn't
Speaker 2: factored in. You need those things to hit their target,
Speaker 2: nothing more. It doesn't matter if they get buckshot lodged
Speaker 2: in an arm It matters if their rotors are shredded
Speaker 2: into foil. He doesn't like this. I can see senses
Speaker 2: demeanor change. He is a bit icy as he gestures
Speaker 2: towards the central computer. I don't know how many hundreds
Speaker 2: he spent on the design. Schematics. But hey, at least
Speaker 2: he doesn't need to invest in new ones. Should be
Speaker 2: thanking me. Really, I don't sit down. Instead, I take
Speaker 2: out the USB, plug it into the computer and ask
Speaker 2: him to sit down. I'm sure you know your system's
Speaker 2: better than I do. I'd hate to screw anything up.
Speaker 2: It's disingenuous, I know, but it convinces him. He sits down.
Speaker 2: I notice the outline of a pistol tucked into his
Speaker 2: pant line between the disheveled dress shirt and the khakis.
Speaker 2: He opens the files. The actual instructions are encrypted. I
Speaker 2: have the key on a piece of paper tucked into
Speaker 2: my windbreaker. If it wasn't, then stealing my designs would
Speaker 2: be as simple as copy paste. Instead, he gets a
Speaker 2: series of PNGs from some short videos, my own voice
Speaker 2: through the speakers explaining what is different about these squash heeads.
Speaker 2: He watches them closely, glancing at my hand every so
Speaker 2: often to check if still on the USB. It always
Speaker 2: is right, he says, But the designs, I want to
Speaker 2: see them in actual printing programs first, so I know
Speaker 2: you're not selling me a pile of shit. I want
Speaker 2: my money first, four thousand euros cash. That's what your
Speaker 2: contact promised me, mister, I nudge for a name. He
Speaker 2: grumbles and sighs. Tom, Just Tom. A few moments pass,
Speaker 2: I consider ripping the USB out since he's starting to
Speaker 2: get on my nerves. He shifts back in the chair,
Speaker 2: an old leather piece of work with more duct tape
Speaker 2: than filling. Is he going to make a move and
Speaker 2: put my hand over my zipper? Ready to go for
Speaker 2: my own gun? Look, I don't know what my contact
Speaker 2: promised you exactly. He has this tendency to make you
Speaker 2: know deals that I don't exactly agree with. Tom explains
Speaker 2: he promised me four thousand euros in cash. I made
Speaker 2: that pretty clear. I think my hand plays with a zipper.
Speaker 2: Can we agree on something more reasonable? It's only designed plastic,
Speaker 2: after all, his voice takes a grating edge to it.
Speaker 2: I probably fucked up telling his armorer how to do
Speaker 2: her job. It's only designed plastic. That took me twenty
Speaker 2: two hours of work, math, chemistry and more to work
Speaker 2: out a prototype for and four days of testing to
Speaker 2: make sure it worked according to my calculations, and then
Speaker 2: a month of shopping it around. And I know that
Speaker 2: there's people like me, right, now doing the same. Who
Speaker 2: wouldn't be caught dead selling to someone who isn't good
Speaker 2: on the money in crypto. Well before they sent the
Speaker 2: design over, I unsit my windbreaker, hoping he doesn't notice
Speaker 2: the bulge of the revolver. I'm taking a risk here,
Speaker 2: and I don't want to take any more. He glares
Speaker 2: at me. I can see the game fall apart in
Speaker 2: his head, what he wanted to do, how he wanted
Speaker 2: to haggle. But I'm still in the room full of
Speaker 2: his friends who are all armed to the teeth and
Speaker 2: are out here on a moment of R and R
Speaker 2: and training, probably before descending back down into Montana and
Speaker 2: helping his folks down there some plans that I'm starting
Speaker 2: to feel less like an accomplice to and more like
Speaker 2: a hindrance to Freya. He says, You're putting me in
Speaker 2: a fucking difficult position right now. His voice raises to
Speaker 2: a growl, a hiss between Tobacco's stained teeth. I clench up,
Speaker 2: step back, and yank the USB from its port. My
Speaker 2: hand plunges into my windbreaker, wraps tight around that unsmooth handle.
Speaker 2: I don't draw it yet, but he knows that I
Speaker 2: have it and that's enough, right, he says, I'm putting
Speaker 2: you in a difficult position too. I get that, but
Speaker 2: you've seen what the Front's doing down in Montana, right,
Speaker 2: the fucking burnings. Moral considerations aren't what got me into
Speaker 2: this job. They're not gonna make me budge. He has
Speaker 2: to know that I'm not in this for some glorious revolution.
Speaker 2: What she might be in it for, dear listener, flash guest,
Speaker 2: is the deals. Like you know that, that's kind of
Speaker 2: a thing, And much like you, you actually only listen
Speaker 2: to podcasts for the ads, and I respect that, unless,
Speaker 2: of course, you listen to cooler Zone Medium, which case
Speaker 2: you get the ad transitions and none of the ads.
Speaker 2: But if you're just on cool Zone Medium, just perfectly legitimate,
Speaker 2: then you get to hear the ads like these ones.
Speaker 2: Yeah I've seen them. Oh I'm back by the way, Yeah,
Speaker 2: I've seen him. Frontists laughed as they screamed, so fucking
Speaker 2: what people like me sold them the weapons? Hell, I
Speaker 2: might know the guy who did. I know what the
Speaker 2: sides are doing. I know your fucking friends. And the
Speaker 2: GDF did when they captured a bunch of the Front's men,
Speaker 2: lined them up and shot them. No trial, nothing, that's war.
Speaker 2: I sell war. You want to buy war. Don't try
Speaker 2: to clean this up. Stands. I see the pistol in
Speaker 2: his waistband glock nineteen polymer, not a shadow gun, probably
Speaker 2: for long term carry. Sweat sticks his shirt to his body.
Speaker 2: You aren't gonna hurt me, I say. My voice is confident,
Speaker 2: my soul is shaking. You either pay me now or
Speaker 2: I take this and leave. I threaten. We had a
Speaker 2: deal set up, and I won't haggle again. I already
Speaker 2: did that with your contact. They said four thousand, no less,
Speaker 2: damn fucking cheap for that price, and you know it.
Speaker 2: I don't think you fucking understand. Actually you've seen the videos,
Speaker 2: but you haven't been there, even smelled the aftermath. You
Speaker 2: haven't given food to the hungry or water to the thirsty.
Speaker 2: His voice devolves into something almost rehearsed. We're doing good
Speaker 2: workout there, and you can help us. Oh, yes, the
Speaker 2: ideological crusade. They think I care about. The shifting acidic
Speaker 2: weight heating at me intensified. I tried my damnedest to
Speaker 2: not show it, not to give any clue of what
Speaker 2: was happening in my head. I failed. He took his chance.
Speaker 2: If I don't know your type, he steps towards me.
Speaker 2: You think I don't know how little info you keep
Speaker 2: about yourself, how fake your name is?
Speaker 1: Hell?
Speaker 2: I bet you don't even have a license on you,
Speaker 2: let alone someone who's worried for you. I inhale sharply.
Speaker 2: The chime comes up, A sour taste forces itself under
Speaker 2: my tongue. I can feel my body. My bone's shaking. God,
Speaker 2: I hope I'm not showing it. I hope he's not
Speaker 2: seeing the twitch in my eye, every tug, every involuntary
Speaker 2: pull of a stressed muscle. I feel everything. Tom knows
Speaker 2: he's got me in a bind. I think over the
Speaker 2: exits in my head, try to remember where anything is.
Speaker 2: A pang of fear strikes through me. There's only one
Speaker 2: way out. My back would be turned to him, the
Speaker 2: whole way. If I ran, good way to get my
Speaker 2: spine ventilated. Maybe backing away would work. A step back,
Speaker 2: glancing over my shoulder to the door. So you're going
Speaker 2: to hand it over as palm is extended outwards? Are
Speaker 2: you fucking robbing me? I try to stall for time.
Speaker 2: It's a USB and a few hits to your dignity,
Speaker 2: hardly grand theft. We can make this far more painful
Speaker 2: if you want, but I'm not going to give you
Speaker 2: a lot of time to think it over. He notices
Speaker 2: my step backward, a flash of movement. A gun points
Speaker 2: at the ground, aimed at my feet. My heart stops
Speaker 2: cold dead. An exasperated sigh comes from behind me. Christ Above, Tommy,
Speaker 2: you're being a shithead, The lady working on the drone says,
Speaker 2: just give her the fucking money. You think we can't
Speaker 2: take the hit, Go and fuck with Henry. He set
Speaker 2: up the deal. If he promised something, that's all on
Speaker 2: us to keep in an internal matter to resolve. We're
Speaker 2: not the fucking front. We have protocol silence for a moment.
Speaker 2: Tom looks at me, then at the armorer. There's something
Speaker 2: between them that I can't place. Maybe they were in
Speaker 2: battle together. That connection people have in the trenches is
Speaker 2: hard to place, hard to replicate. You think you have
Speaker 2: a fucking right to tell me what to do, Tom growls, yes.
Speaker 2: She says, yeah, I fucking do. Swinging your cock around
Speaker 2: isn't going to help any of us. Her tone is measured, casual,
Speaker 2: like this is a Tuesday for her. Hell, what if
Speaker 2: she did give you the designs? Did you ever think
Speaker 2: past five minutes from now, she'd give you the USB,
Speaker 2: run like hell and tell every damn person in the
Speaker 2: business that we're liable to rob you blind and call
Speaker 2: it business. How would that look for us? Tom sighs.
Speaker 2: He removes the magazine from his pistol and racks the slide.
Speaker 2: A bullet clatters on the concrete ground. My shoulders drop.
Speaker 2: I breathe in clean, fresh air, almost purifying. I hadn't
Speaker 2: realized how long I've been holding my breath. I wipe
Speaker 2: the sweat off my forehead and relax the grip on
Speaker 2: my revolver. Maybe this would actually go all right? You're
Speaker 2: right here, right, he sighs Alex, he looks past me.
Speaker 2: The woman perks up. Go to the vault. I think
Speaker 2: we have enough fifties and hundreds. If you can, I'd
Speaker 2: like to go with her, if you don't mind, I say.
Speaker 2: Tom frowns, but Alex waves me over. I follow her
Speaker 2: down the hall. She smells like peaches under the burnt
Speaker 2: metal and sweat and WD forty. I'm so sorry about Tom,
Speaker 2: she says to me. The second we're out of ear shot.
Speaker 2: He's got a real fuck you got mine attitude, and
Speaker 2: I've tried to whip him into shape. It's not really
Speaker 2: working out. I'm just glad I'm not leaving here in pieces,
Speaker 2: I say. She laughs. It's sweet, gentle, reassuring. I remind
Speaker 2: myself once more that I am working and think about
Speaker 2: her too much. He's a business partner, after all. She
Speaker 2: lets out a laugh, a tired laugh, somebone who's had
Speaker 2: to deal with far too much nonsense. We wouldn't do
Speaker 2: that to you, promise. They keep all their money in
Speaker 2: a room, hidden in filing cabinets and sorted by denomination.
Speaker 2: Some foreign currency, a lot of Canadian. Obviously, there's one
Speaker 2: thing the Canadians got right other than poutine. It's polymer currency.
Speaker 2: Europe has yet to catch up. And so my eyes
Speaker 2: wander to the piles of cotton bills four thousand euros. Right,
Speaker 2: Fuck Tom might have a point, as my wipe our reserves.
Speaker 2: Not again, I'm not playing this haggling game again. A
Speaker 2: cute girl won't change my answer. Not my problem, I
Speaker 2: hope you know, I state. She nods and starts counting
Speaker 2: a real hard nose. I see her voice grates like
Speaker 2: glass shards. I must have foiled some plan. You know,
Speaker 2: Tom's not a bad person. I don't care about his morals,
Speaker 2: I say, I just want promises kept right right. She
Speaker 2: hands me stacks of currency. I count through it quickly.
Speaker 2: None of it seems fake, though I might need to
Speaker 2: inspect closer later. The ero is always a good bet.
Speaker 2: The Canadian and US dollars both collapse and rise and turn,
Speaker 2: but across the pond the EUS managed to keep things
Speaker 2: relatively stable. I say goodbye to Alex and start down
Speaker 2: towards the entrance. As I pass through the hall, I
Speaker 2: see a few people on a couch watching television. One
Speaker 2: of them seems real strung out. Another is intently watching
Speaker 2: the screen. The television plays footage from the Christian Fronts
Speaker 2: fighting with the remains of the National Guard, and anchor
Speaker 2: is speaking about the need for intervention from Britain or
Speaker 2: something something. I need to pay attention to new players
Speaker 2: in the field and all that. Tom meets me as
Speaker 2: I walk no gun. At least it doesn't look like.
Speaker 2: I don't take the time to search him up and down.
Speaker 2: He doesn't speak. I have nothing to say to him.
Speaker 2: It's a short walk to the door, but it feels
Speaker 2: so so long. This didn't go smoothly, and I've put
Speaker 2: these guys firmly on my blacklist, but I won't contribute
Speaker 2: to the rumor mill. Maybe one of my competitors won't
Speaker 2: be as lucky as me. That'd be nice. I stand
Speaker 2: at the threshold, and a final few thoughts cross my mind.
Speaker 2: But how they might not have the right materials. It
Speaker 2: did include a list in the text file. How they
Speaker 2: might try to alter the designs themselves, might fuck it
Speaker 2: up too. The Alex seem capable just not listen to
Speaker 2: They rarely listen to the engineers, at least until the
Speaker 2: survivors need to pick up the pieces. A thousand thoughts
Speaker 2: run through my head. I opened the door, say goodbye
Speaker 2: to Tom, and I leave the idiots to blow themselves
Speaker 2: up the end. If this was an old movie, it
Speaker 2: would say Finn, although it's French when it says Finn,
Speaker 2: So who knows? Maybe you don't. Maybe is it's probably
Speaker 2: how it's pronounced, because you never pronounce all the letters.
Speaker 2: Why am I randomly making fun of him? This is
Speaker 2: the problem, is that you all are my guests, and
Speaker 2: you've been a little bit quiet, So I've been left
Speaker 2: to make these terrible jokes. But that's this week's story.
Speaker 2: I don't know. I like this story, and I thought
Speaker 2: that you all might like it too. I like this
Speaker 2: kind of simple exploration of the complications involved in revolutionary
Speaker 2: struggle and how you know, often at least I read
Speaker 2: stuff that's like from a revolutionist's point of view, right,
Speaker 2: and you know, it talks about the complications as like,
Speaker 2: oh well, it's just complicated. You know, sometimes you got
Speaker 2: to break goup served the making an omelet or whatever
Speaker 2: fucking bullshit, you know, And I like something that's from
Speaker 2: the perspective of a sort of a neutral observe. So
Speaker 2: I thought you all might like it too. But there's
Speaker 2: a few things I want to plug. Well, first I
Speaker 2: want to plug s J. Clipecky, who you should follow.
Speaker 2: You should follow on Twitter, which, as I said, is
Speaker 2: s J k l A P E C W R I,
Speaker 2: T I n G on Twitter. Also, you can follow
Speaker 2: s J. Clipecky on Patreon, which is SJ Underscore. We'll
Speaker 2: just google it. Clipecky is k L A P E
Speaker 2: c K I. And probably more than anything else, I
Speaker 2: want to plug their book, which I haven't read yet,
Speaker 2: but was published by ak Press, who also published cool
Speaker 2: Zone Media Friend of the Pod Me and also cool
Speaker 2: Zone Media Friend of the Pod Robert Evans. Ak Press
Speaker 2: published ak Press is a collectively run publisher who puts
Speaker 2: out really good shit and has started to put out
Speaker 2: a lot of really good fiction and ak Press put
Speaker 2: out Station six by s. J. Clepecky and I think
Speaker 2: you'll should check it out because I have it on
Speaker 2: my shelf and I'm excited to read it, especially after
Speaker 2: reading this story. That's the end of book Club. I'll
Speaker 2: see you all next week. Maybe I'll have a different guest.
Speaker 2: Maybe you'll be the guest again. Do you like being
Speaker 2: the guest? If so, I don't know, Well, I guess
Speaker 2: you're kind of always the guest.
Speaker 1: Oh.
Speaker 2: Also there's me. I have a podcast. If you heard
Speaker 2: this on they it could Happen here feed. You can
Speaker 2: also hear me on The Cool People Who Did Cool
Speaker 2: Stuff Feed where every Monday and Wednesday, I tell you
Speaker 2: a different kind of story. I tell you a story
Speaker 2: of history instead of this futurest I'll.
Speaker 1: Just shut up.
Speaker 2: See you all next week.
Speaker 1: It could happen here as a production of cool Zone Media.
Speaker 1: For more podcasts from cool Zone Media, visit our website
Speaker 1: cool zonemedia dot com, or trick us out on the
Speaker 1: iHeartRadio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts,
Speaker 1: you can find sources for It could happen here, Updated
Speaker 1: monthly at coolzonmedia dot com slash sources. Thanks for listening.