“I’m going to give you something at the end of your trial run that will seal the deal,” spoke Pot-D Sub Vice Regional Deputy of Internal External Affairs Buster Damm sometime during their meeting in the southern part of VHC City, probably more towards its end rather than the beginning. “It’s a skele-heart pendant. You wear it around your neck and we can monitor you at all times, know your whereabouts, what you’ve been eating, how your bowel movements are going, so on. Not creepy at all, right?” he tried to lighten the mood on the very serious situation. Crack Pot-D agent Duncan had been gone for weeks, maybe years. Buster had finally caved in to getting a replacement. But not without some serious study. His plan is that there will be *2* agents this time backing up each other, one black, as it were (like Duncan), and one white. Damm had strong suspicions that Duncan had disappeared because of the color of his skin. The southern part of the Omega continent where he was last seen — the so-called Dixie of Our Second Lyfe — remains in a quite primitive state in terms of racial justice. People like that could vanish into the night and not be heard of again. Buster said a lot of these same things to Karl, who graduated top of his class at Marydel State University of Connecticut’s Massachusetts. Nick, his potential new partner, did the same at another prestigious if traditionally rival college. Buster arranged a meeting between the two that morning. He had to split, he said, anxiously eyeing the light continuing to wash across the table they sat at as the sun rose on another hateful day. But not before saying, “take away the skin color and you guys have a lot in common. I think you’ll get along swell.” If you don’t try to kill each other, Buster also thought while he walked away but kept to himself. Worth a try. Results could swing wildly either way.
10:15:
“Hi, I’m Nick. You must be Karl. Putter there partner, he he.”
He couldn’t shake back because the matching animation in his inventory didn’t work for some reason. Nick was insulted that the shaking gesture wasn’t reciprocated. Karl was offended by Nick grazing his uneaten croissant with his extended hand — rude, he thought. The awkwardness continued when Nick said, “Hey if you’re not going to eat that croissant mind if I do? I’m starving.” He ended up eating his soup as well since his rather dirty looking shirtsleeve grazed the top of that in reaching to grab the croissant. Things had gotten off to a rocky start, Buster’s fears instead of hopes beginning to be realized. Maybe, he considered later, he should have just tried harder to find Duncan, find out what the real story is behind his disappearance. Maybe Dixie is not as bad as it use to be, hmm. One way to find out.
He left them trading punches behind the SoSo Bakery after yet another argument over a meal and went on his way.
“Get that nasty ass hand outta here you cretin!”
Sunklands 