milliways_bar | (no subject)

The door opens; Ellen ducks in from a hotter-than-usual Wasteland summer day and spends some time blinking as her eyes adjust to the local light level. She lets out a sigh of relief- there are only so many doors you can try in Arlington before your cow gets frustrated and wanders off- and trots over to deposit an envelope at the Bar. Inside is an assortment of incomplete and fragmentary comic books, some bits as small as just a portion of a page, and a note.

Dear Steve-

I made it back to the Citadel today to deliver my most recent report, and I stopped by the archives like I promised you. Here's copies of the incomplete comics I found. The originals are back at the Citadel, so you can have these.

I'm not sure what else I can bring from home to make things more interesting for you on the road, unless you have a record player with you or something. If you like violin, I mean. There's a woman who has what I think might be the last Stradivarius violin in the world, and she makes her living by playing for traders. I might be able to get some recordings from her, if you ever wanted.

Take care out there,

Ellen.

Once the envelope's in Bar's keeping she deposits two fistfuls of bottlecaps on the bartop. "As much film as this will buy me," she says, "and there's more where that came from, if you have it. And some Cram and noodles, please."

It was a long day in the saddle and she could really use something to eat.

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"He's got a while to go. We only have one windmill up at the robot factory, so it's a long way to go before we have power for the whole plant, and even then we'll need to fix the machinery involved- although that shouldn't be too hard now that we've got a few of the old robots active. The bots can do most of the brute labor, so we'll be concentrating on the difficult stuff, and once that's done..."

"Well, then I have to work out the fastest way to get a lot of robots to Pittsburgh when there aren't any working trucks or viable roads. But that'll happen in its own time. Worst comes to worst, we'll walk."

"Could you borrow some of the crap down in the garage? I mean, if you could find people to drive that shit? I'm sure there's gotta be some tanks or something."

He hasn't gone looking for any of those, but.

You know. There's a Batmobile. And a Mystery Machine.

And mobile suits.

"It's possible," Ellen says. "We'd have to get the fuel here, though. No petroleum anywhere, back home. All the motor vehicles left by the time of the war ran on atomic power. But if there was gas available..."

"I bet you could arrange something. If not with Bar, there's plenty of people from Earths and shit that have got to have a lot of gas lying around. I know I could probably throw in some."

You know.

If it ever came to that.

Ellen nods. "I'll keep it in mind," she says. "And start putting aside goods and stuff to trade for it, because that stuff was expensive before the war. Thank you for reminding me of the garage, Dean."

"Hey, I spend a lot of time down there, just tinkering with stuff."

He grins, tucking his hands in his back pockets.

"Glad to help."