The Weapon - Apocalypse - part 2 By Diana the Valkyrie Pretty Flamingo cruising along Wendy.self: He sounded so down, I wish there was something I could do to cheer him up. But he's seven thousand miles away, twice that if I don't go straight through the planet, I suppose I'm lucky even to be able to talk with him on the satphone. Better order his supper. Wendy.telecoms: "Star of India here, can I help you?" "Hi, Wendy McCrae here, could you send a couple of onion bhajees and a Ceylon chicken curry with white rice to the usual address please? We'll pay on delivery." "Yes, ma'am." "Thank you." Wendy.self: Water water water. More water. Water water everywhere, and no albatross. This is so stupid, here I am, the most powerful Weapon in the universe, well, at least on this planet, carrying ships around. Tote that barge, lift that bale, get a little baby and you land in jail. Better check the baby. Wendy.babymonitor: Baby.1 feels dry. Baby.2 feels damp. Change baby.2? Wendy.self: Not really wet, let her sleep. Mustn't blame the babies, it isn't their fault. Not Duncan's fault either. Maybe there isn't any blame. Shit happens, law of nature. Especially around babies. Wendy.datastore: Joke noted and stored for future use. Wendy.self: I wonder what Duncan's doing right now. Wendy.telecoms: login ... username ... password ... run monitor ... Wendy.self: Oh, he's checking the ship exchanges. He works so hard, I think he feels guilty about something. Maybe he feels guilty about Milly? He thinks that everything has a cause, and that the cause is always anthropomorphic. So it's me, or him, or some deity that causes things. He can't accept that sometimes shit happens and it's no-one's fault. They executed that shit who detonated the nuke that killed Milly. No, the nuke didn't kill her, she sacrificed herself to save the babies, I'm so proud of her, but such a waste of a life. Two million babies. How can anyone do that? Some of these humans are incomprehensible to me. Still, I suppose I must be a bit weird to them. Well, easy way to find out. I'll ask him. Wendy.telecoms: "Hi, Duncan, it's me again. I wanted to ask you a question, if you're not too busy?" "I'm never too busy for you, Wendy." Predictable reply. "Why are you working at this time of day?" "Two reasons, love. One, I've got nothing better to do. Two, if we're going to be apart so much, I want it to be worth as much as it possibly can. You know the equation." "Love you, Duncan." "Love you, Wendy." "Duncan, am I a bit weird?" "Weird?" "Different from what you expect?" "Uh. Wendy. I don't think I had any previous expectations about what to expect with a Weapon of universe-breaking power." "Oh, Duncan, don't exaggerate, you know perfectly well that I couldn't break anything much bigger than a star. Anyway, what I mean is, I don't understand how that guy could detonate that nuke, he must have known it would kill millions, so how could he do it?" "Wendy, people have been asking that for thousands of years, and no-one's come up with an answer." "But do I seem normal to you, or am I ... weird?" "Love, you certainly are not normal, no. Normal people don't fly supertankers around the world." "Normal people don't have the equation on their shoulders, Duncan." Wendy.self: I'll have to work harder on looking normal, I want people to suspend their disbelief about me being a female human, I want them to look at me and think "woman", not "alien creature who isn't even flesh and blood". Even though that's what I am. Because people are xenophobic, no doubt about it, look at the way they treat each other. The equation. Yes, I know the equation. I know it very well, that fucking equation. One thousand dollars equals one baby. Each thousand dollars we can get, means a decent life, decent food, decent health, decent education, for one baby, for one year. We get a million dollars, that equates to a thousand babies. That bloody, fucking, lousy, stinking equation that is currently ruling and ruining my life, as I haul these stupid ships around the world, when I could be cosy with my Duncan and my two little babies. The cold, hard equation. Sometimes I wonder. Why me? I mean, why aren't they doing it? How can they not do it? Well, that's another thing in my list of things I don't understand. Maybe one day I'll find someone who can answer some of these questions. Is it worth doing? Sometimes I feel like I'm baling out the ocean with a teaspoon. Can I really make a difference here? This isn't what I'm designed for, I'm a Weapon, I'm supposed to break things, I'm not a baby care center. Show me something to break, not a baby to feed and change. Wendy.babymonitor: Hundreds of millions of babies. Crying. Hungry. Injured. Diseased. Uneducated. Crying. Wendy.bodyemulation: Water to eyes. Wendy.self: Yeah, I know. But what I really don't understand, is how come? I mean, they must all know about this. So why aren't they dealing with it? Wendy.bodyemulation: Water to eyes. Wendy.self: Pull yourself together, girl. Wendy.pilot: Altitude 200 feet. Lat 162-21, long 25-37. 993 millibars, fine and clear. 298 knots, NNW. Wendy.self: Are you still asleep, honey? Yes, you are. You're a little angel, aren't you. Except when you aren't. When you wake up, I'll let down the ship and land on board, and you can have a little crawl around and we'll play pat-a-cake, and bunny whoops, and then you can have a bit of a feed, and I'll get you cleaned up and changed, and then when you're asleep again, we can fly on. +++ Wendy.babymonitor.interrupt: Baby.2 is wet +++ I've got to try to understand this thing about money. Duncan says it's to do with economics, and how they decide what to do. Their whole world seems to revolve around it, and it's the reason why I'm flying this dumb ship halfway round the world. He's explained it to me a couple of times already, and I still don't really get it. That means I've got some assumption that's wrong, something really deep down, that they all have a different axiom. Maybe I should try to root that out? Oh well, add it to the list of things I don't understand. Wendy.telecoms: Google "economics and money" > Wendy.datastore | analyse Wendy.self: Makes no sense. Maybe Duncan can explain it to me. Wendy.flightmonitor: Clouding over, looks like rain, 980 millibars and falling.