The Doorway: a panfandom game

So, it's 11:18 at night, and my food stock is completely depleted. I know. That's on me for not being a responsible adult who can fix a late second dinner. Can anyone rec a good, cheap place to eat?

Chopping celery always makes me think of Sydney Carton.

I could say this is because of the smell (l'odorat, ce mystérieux aide-mémoire, venait de faire revivre en lui tout un monde, says old Vic, and he's not wrong), and that awful soup they dished us out on Fridays at school, intersecting with the many hurried meals during which I tried to force myself to choke down Dickens. Or, I suppose, I could say that cooking is a civilising activity, and that no matter where one does it - especially when one does it in, say, a shack of a house with a view of a smoggy Polish highway, or a basement in Brixton, or a kitchen-closet in a warehouse in Newark - it kicks up a little of the refinement of home.

More likely it's the crunch, though, isn't it. Poor old Syd.

Anyway, I've always liked cooking up a proper lunch at work. No better way to feel human after a very long morning. If anyone wants to please come visit to swing by New Jersey for a bite, there'll be more than enough for two.

If someone mentions Guy Fawkes to me -- or incorrectly categories him as some sort of angelic martyr for precious anarchy -- one more time today, I might be forced to burn more than an effigy.

Well.

There's nothing to make one feel old-fashioned like opening your shirt more or less in public to get an injection from a young woman who's probably passed more exams than you've been to schools.

Except, I suppose, dying of influenza. That would be quite a throw-back, wouldn't it?

[Peter Guilliam]

Occasionally, leads are hard to dig up, other times, they just fall charmingly into one's lap, don't they.

The Leviathan Corporation. I think we ought to take a look, don't you?

You know, I'm surprised with the seasons turning as they are that more people aren't having bonfires. We always had one in Sherwood Forest to burn an effigy of King John, the Usurper. There are certainly politicians very much his of his stock in this world. I wonder how well the narrative would transfer.

[Filtered to Regina]

I take it you grew tired of McNuggets? Roland liked the pasta.

Thank you to everyone who came to the small party Anna threw for me yesterday evening. It was truly wonderful meeting you all, and it eases those worries that seem to come along with learning to find your place in an entirely new world. I feel as if the only thing that will hold me back, for now, is the lack of a modern education. I'm, naturally, thoroughly educated by the standards of my time, but the truth is that there is so much more to learn and I don't really even know where to start.

I suppose the next lesson in my cultural education will be Halloween, which has a fascinating history, even though I am not familiar with the cultures that shaped it, from its earliest days to the present day. I do find it amusing that children are able to dress in costume and be rewarded for it -- but I wonder, what is the reward for adults? And how does one choose a costume and do so without offending any one culture -- that would be a terrible thing to do, and I wish to avoid it at all costs.

Filter to Ororo Munroe

Hello, Ms. Munroe. I have been told that the last time I was here we had discussed my powers, and how you might be able to help me to better control them. If you are interested, I would be very interested in renewing this conversation. If it's not convenient for you, however, any suggestions you might have for someone who might be able to help me would be very much appreciated. Thank you.

I seem to consistently forget about posting here and elsewhere when events of import happen to my little shop. This week it's that we have reopened after the vandalism of last week. As a result of this vandalism, we will be selling the least damaged of the damaged books at a significant discount, and they will be sold until they are gone at that rate. Do please stop in and pick over the lot, and feel free to browse our regular selection. If you aren't able to find what you're looking for, please talk to me and it will be located and shipped to the shop. Or, if that is inconvenient, shipped directly to you.

Shall I look into acquiring a shop cat? I've always fancied myself a cat [...] person. Angel. Entity.

[Peter Guillam]

Tell me, Mr. Guillam -- Are you enjoying New York? Or would you prefer something a little less stationary?

So, can anyone this network thing recommend any of private military companies in this world? I've been looking around and doing my research but it'd be nice to get a bit of inside knowledge and all that. I need to get off my butt and get back to work.

And in case anyone thinks I don't know what I'm getting myself into, I've been working for one back home for the last eight months. In fact, I'd just come back from a four month stint in Sudan before I was brought here.

So I experienced riding one of those Citibank bicycles today and even though it was just once, I already have a review: Those things are death traps. Death traps with how heavy and clunky the front is and then you're expected to make it more heavy by putting all of your things in that basket(???). And if you happen to hit a bump or attempt to swerve around it, there's a high chance you'll end up falling into traffic. And people stare instead of helping you up.

And then the bad luck of finding out that there's barely any docking station near Columbia U. so I had to double back, and so, hello, overcharge, and I took the train back anyway.

In conclusion, that's probably a "Never again".

Subway announcements, although annoying, needn't be unbearable; mind the gap, for instance, is civilizing without being scolding. Pithy without being silly.

But if I have to hear courtesy is contagious, and it starts with you one more time, I will put my umbrella in someone's eye. See how far courtesy gets you

Or I would, if the fine fellows at the 6th precinct hadn't ever so gently suggested I leave it by the door in a bag.

To: Recruiting@michaelson.net
Cc:
Bcc:
From: p.guillam@pottstower.com
Subject: Manager of Logistics Procurement – Distribution (Job Number: 607532)
Attachment: guillam_resume.pdf ; guillam_cover.pdf

( you have 1 new message )

One of the most touted parts of intelligence work - in my time, at least, and, I don't doubt, now - is the assurance of connections. Someone once described it to me as being part of the club, which, if a little glib, is nonetheless true. People love to be in the know. People treat you differently when they know you know. It's an intimate society of mutual respect and favor, and to be in it is to be in on a great many things, and to be out of it is to be out entirely.

I'm out, now. Everyone (well, enough people) know my name, and I know very little of them in return. The membership's lapsed, the doors are shut, there are no more champions extending hands because the old boy's one of us. No more connections.

But there's a lesser-valued perk I've stumbled into after falling through that net, which is that, as it turns out, pretending is the same as doing. I've spent years at other men's work, near on a decade of running freight ships in and out of busy ports and wrangling crews together from the (often decidedly reluctant) local populace. Lo and behold: I have job experience. Who knew? They tell you to live your cover as though that weren't just living, and so I've always thought of myself as a spy with a line on the side - but the unglamorous truth of the matter is that I've been a damned shipping clerk who sometimes sent sensational letters to dodgy people. The party's over, but at least I left with something useful in my pocket.

So now I'm a damned shipping clerk again, and, do you know, I find the only complaint I have left over is that Jersey City is, sadly, no Casablanca. But nothing really is.

A night down (and it almost always is down) by the docks is the same anywhere - you find the right sink-hole of a bar with the right mix of vodka, darkness, and reluctant polyglots, and you'll probably come up trumps. It was a little easier back when I was handing out jobs instead of hunting one, but my liver's suffered worse.

And then, wandering desolate neighborhoods - if they can be called neighborhoods - searching for breakfast at seven in the morning is as much part and parcel of the thing as deciding whether to shout at someone in French or in your twenty words of Mandarin, but I've never thought it was quite as much fun. Found a decent stretch of sidewalk with something purporting to be coffee, though, and am now enjoying this lovely view:

( cut for image; not filtered )

My stealth photography skills are sadly atrophied, or maybe just outclassed by the instrument, so I couldn't get a decent shot of the interior without looking like I was about to steal the thing. Not that anyone would - it was nothing so special when it was made, and doubtless still isn't - but it really is beautiful, the way some people take care of their things. Not a scratch on it.

I walked past a vintage car dealership this morning and now I'm missing my car. Not that they had anything that even comes close to the Bentley, but still.

What do you miss from home where you're from?


[Filtered to Aziraphale]

I'm in the mood for Italian. Dinner tonight? I'll find us a fantastic restaurant.

Hard to believe it was seventy years ago that the Forces françaises de l'intérieur -- the French Resistance -- took back Paris. I still remember the parades down the Champs-Élysées as though they were last night.

My first thought when I found out I'd been kidnapped or whatever you call this was "Well at least it's not an island." Then I remembered that Manhattan is an island. I can't win.

My name is Oliver Queen. I'm Oliver Queen and what the hell is this place? Besides New York City.

Top 10 favorite places to eat in New York.

and.... GO!

Who: Peter Guillam & Percival Pinkerton
When: Backdated: Thursday evening
Where: kamchatka Peninsula
What: Old boys discuss the war, get drunk and smoke a lot.
Rating: maybe pg-13 for language, we’ll see
STATUS: In progress, in G-docs. Will be updated as we go.

( More by rumor than reputation )