Hi.
This is an announcement that, barring intermittent availability, future entries are on hiatus as I now need to take time for work on my tax form software development for 2013.
I hope to resume writing more entries soon.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Monday, November 11, 2013
19270522 20:46:44
19270522 20:46:44
HN-S-4040
"There's one thing that I haven't mentioned to you yet, and the man reminded me to do so earlier today." Western paused his address by picking up his cigar and twirling the tip of it in his fingers as he exhaled a stream of smoke. "This hasn't had to come up in a while since you're the only freshness that we've had in a spell, so we don't know of any other attempts she's made in the same span. I doubt there's been any. Anyway, you're aware that T has a few relations, right?"
"Right, uh, one of each I think, right?"
"Yep."
Ridgeland was about to prod the conversation on by asking what point there was to bring them up, but he knew Western would get to it eventually.
"So the main thing you need to know about her -" Western let a gap of breath sit in the air before and after the pronoun, which could have been interpreted as him considering her with a layer of contempt, then continued to say, "is that she's not with us. And the problem with that is she's not dumb, and she understands things around her, and she's had some, uh, unfortunate situations come around in her life, so the combination of that with some folks always telling her 'no' to some things means that she tries to dance her way around the tape, you know? One consequence of this is that unlike you and me, she doesn't have the same tool at her disposal which we do. So this means that there may come a time where she might introduce herself to you and be all friendly and nice and such, and being so isn't a farce, as she is proper and respectful and all, but. But. She may have a motive in tow. And that motive may be for you to help her have a tool of her own, like we have."
"Really? And that's forbidden?" Ridgeland drummed the fingers of his right hand against the bar top to contemplate the situation. He didn't need to think about it long to reach the general logic and inherent conflict, but still felt compelled to give his own interpretation of how it should ultimately be resolved. "I think that as long as it's clear that she would only possess it for her own self defense, then it should be allowed. She would have what she wants and there would be no secrets kept between her and everyone else."
"But doesn't that constitute an indictment upon our ability to handle our business?" Western said this more to echo the explanation given to him rather than his own beliefs, and as a way to gauge his reaction.
"Well, no, I don't think so. Accidents happen, and there's only so much any of us can do. And if she has truly has had some unfortunate accidents, as you have said, then perhaps that is the best direction forward."
"Fair enough, but these are orders here so don't forget it. Got it?"
"I got it, yeah."
Ridgeland cradled his beer mug into both of his hands and tilted it to his lips slowly so that he could draw out the process of taking the liquid in and drinking it down. In the silence of the moment, he wondered how many attempts were made for this order to be disobeyed.
HN-S-4040
"There's one thing that I haven't mentioned to you yet, and the man reminded me to do so earlier today." Western paused his address by picking up his cigar and twirling the tip of it in his fingers as he exhaled a stream of smoke. "This hasn't had to come up in a while since you're the only freshness that we've had in a spell, so we don't know of any other attempts she's made in the same span. I doubt there's been any. Anyway, you're aware that T has a few relations, right?"
"Right, uh, one of each I think, right?"
"Yep."
Ridgeland was about to prod the conversation on by asking what point there was to bring them up, but he knew Western would get to it eventually.
"So the main thing you need to know about her -" Western let a gap of breath sit in the air before and after the pronoun, which could have been interpreted as him considering her with a layer of contempt, then continued to say, "is that she's not with us. And the problem with that is she's not dumb, and she understands things around her, and she's had some, uh, unfortunate situations come around in her life, so the combination of that with some folks always telling her 'no' to some things means that she tries to dance her way around the tape, you know? One consequence of this is that unlike you and me, she doesn't have the same tool at her disposal which we do. So this means that there may come a time where she might introduce herself to you and be all friendly and nice and such, and being so isn't a farce, as she is proper and respectful and all, but. But. She may have a motive in tow. And that motive may be for you to help her have a tool of her own, like we have."
"Really? And that's forbidden?" Ridgeland drummed the fingers of his right hand against the bar top to contemplate the situation. He didn't need to think about it long to reach the general logic and inherent conflict, but still felt compelled to give his own interpretation of how it should ultimately be resolved. "I think that as long as it's clear that she would only possess it for her own self defense, then it should be allowed. She would have what she wants and there would be no secrets kept between her and everyone else."
"But doesn't that constitute an indictment upon our ability to handle our business?" Western said this more to echo the explanation given to him rather than his own beliefs, and as a way to gauge his reaction.
"Well, no, I don't think so. Accidents happen, and there's only so much any of us can do. And if she has truly has had some unfortunate accidents, as you have said, then perhaps that is the best direction forward."
"Fair enough, but these are orders here so don't forget it. Got it?"
"I got it, yeah."
Ridgeland cradled his beer mug into both of his hands and tilted it to his lips slowly so that he could draw out the process of taking the liquid in and drinking it down. In the silence of the moment, he wondered how many attempts were made for this order to be disobeyed.
Friday, November 8, 2013
18370706 21:34:05
18370706 21:34:05
Daron heard the footsteps approach the other side of the barn and felt his teeth grind together as he anticipated having to correct him on procedure yet again, but thankfully that didn't happen now. Three knocks came against the wooden wall instead; two quick taps, followed by a pause before the third.
"Doc."
"Yes, sir." Despite the answer coming in a whisper, the inflection and pace that came with the words confirmed Doctor Kufo's identify to Daron.
"So I need to know - what is happening with your crop production? I've been wondering how you've done, both for quantity and how folks like the taste. I've been waiting for months. I see you gather all of that corn, all of the vegetables. You have it out there. But I don't see nobody taking it besides me. I have people looking out, I've been asking around, and everyone tells me they're getting it from Tarro's pal instead. So what's this about?"
"That's the thing. We are selling it, we are moving it, but not in the open. People are coming to us in the middle of the night or on the side. They are keeping their transactions with us a secret."
"What? You have been selling? Really?"
"Yes sir! We are indeed bringing out new product as our old crop gets bought."
Daron turned his head away from the wall and looked blankly forward into the darkness of the barn. The people were buying their crops, but in secret. In secret. An underground market had actually formed for their goods. Was the Reverend's power really that great, if not that of the church which he represented? Since when did the common type of person living on this farm have such a seeming concern about the judgement of others? What mattered to Daron more, though, was knowing that this all likely came about because of that public display which was held earlier in the year. The Reverend's interpretation of that as a confrontation appeared to have created this kind of effect after all. He then knew that a different course needed to be taken in the future, but what kind of communication and relationship should these doctors have with himself or the rest of the community at large?
"Sir?" Doctor Kufo was beginning to wonder why the conversation came to a sudden and prolonged stop.
"Doc, we need to set new rules. This is all my fault, and it shouldn't have been like this."
"New rules? What about?"
"Well, one thing's for sure; as long as Tarro's here, you guys can't make a public spectacle of your work like you've done before. At best, it'll make a shadow market like you got here, and at worse, it'll ruin your work. I can't have that."
"Sir, as long as we're able to put our product to use and sale, one way or another, we can handle-"
"No, no, no! Not like that, no. This is my farm, this is my property, and he came here to live on my property, and I will not have him assume a higher authority than me on my own fucking property, do you understand? You and the rest of us here, we're a family here, and I will not have someone from the outside come into my family and lay law in it. No."
"Uh, I uh, understand then, yes. What are we going to do, then?"
"We'll have to think about it. But above all, we'll have to keep quiet. Even more so now." After saying this, Daron turned on his heels and quickly stepped out of the barn, and returned to his house while wondering how he wasn't able to tell that the black market had arisen right under his nose.
Daron heard the footsteps approach the other side of the barn and felt his teeth grind together as he anticipated having to correct him on procedure yet again, but thankfully that didn't happen now. Three knocks came against the wooden wall instead; two quick taps, followed by a pause before the third.
"Doc."
"Yes, sir." Despite the answer coming in a whisper, the inflection and pace that came with the words confirmed Doctor Kufo's identify to Daron.
"So I need to know - what is happening with your crop production? I've been wondering how you've done, both for quantity and how folks like the taste. I've been waiting for months. I see you gather all of that corn, all of the vegetables. You have it out there. But I don't see nobody taking it besides me. I have people looking out, I've been asking around, and everyone tells me they're getting it from Tarro's pal instead. So what's this about?"
"That's the thing. We are selling it, we are moving it, but not in the open. People are coming to us in the middle of the night or on the side. They are keeping their transactions with us a secret."
"What? You have been selling? Really?"
"Yes sir! We are indeed bringing out new product as our old crop gets bought."
Daron turned his head away from the wall and looked blankly forward into the darkness of the barn. The people were buying their crops, but in secret. In secret. An underground market had actually formed for their goods. Was the Reverend's power really that great, if not that of the church which he represented? Since when did the common type of person living on this farm have such a seeming concern about the judgement of others? What mattered to Daron more, though, was knowing that this all likely came about because of that public display which was held earlier in the year. The Reverend's interpretation of that as a confrontation appeared to have created this kind of effect after all. He then knew that a different course needed to be taken in the future, but what kind of communication and relationship should these doctors have with himself or the rest of the community at large?
"Sir?" Doctor Kufo was beginning to wonder why the conversation came to a sudden and prolonged stop.
"Doc, we need to set new rules. This is all my fault, and it shouldn't have been like this."
"New rules? What about?"
"Well, one thing's for sure; as long as Tarro's here, you guys can't make a public spectacle of your work like you've done before. At best, it'll make a shadow market like you got here, and at worse, it'll ruin your work. I can't have that."
"Sir, as long as we're able to put our product to use and sale, one way or another, we can handle-"
"No, no, no! Not like that, no. This is my farm, this is my property, and he came here to live on my property, and I will not have him assume a higher authority than me on my own fucking property, do you understand? You and the rest of us here, we're a family here, and I will not have someone from the outside come into my family and lay law in it. No."
"Uh, I uh, understand then, yes. What are we going to do, then?"
"We'll have to think about it. But above all, we'll have to keep quiet. Even more so now." After saying this, Daron turned on his heels and quickly stepped out of the barn, and returned to his house while wondering how he wasn't able to tell that the black market had arisen right under his nose.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
18370409 11:43:06
18370409 11:43:06
(Note: Date and previous header of "18370410 12:06:19" has been revised to "18370409 11:18:19")
The amount of force that he put into his steps as he paced back and forth in the room was great enough to cause the floor to visibly bend. This spectacle combined with the audible yet indecipherable mumbling that came from the Reverend's mouth was enough to make his wife hesitate to speak up, despite her growing increasingly concerned for her husband's well being. After several minutes of watching the man pace from one wall to the other, she couldn't help herself to stay quiet any longer and felt forced to interject.
"Love, what was so terrible about what had happened there? Didn't they-"
"What was so terrible?" Reverend Tarro spun on his heels and leaned his body in to shout the counter question with such force that it caused her to reflexively raise her arms upward in defense. "What! How about everything! Everything was terrible about that! They made a damned fool out of me there, did you not see that? Did you not hear that? Those infernal men, they think they're so righteous and enlightened, those fools, those damned hell bound fools! Damn them! May the Lord damn them and strike them down!"
"A- Alan! Alan! Please, must you be so emotional?"
"Darling, they, th-" He stammered in place and pointed a finger behind him, towards the door to the shack, straining to find the right words to convey his anger without merely screaming out. He finally managed to compose himself and lower his voice before speaking again. "They made a fool out of me out there. That's the main thing that they did. Both of them, and I bet Daron too, I bet you he was in on it. I bet he could have even suggested that display to them! That would make sense, yes, that would explain it all. All of them being snakes like that, yes, yes, I could see it now. Making arrangements out of sight to put me down. But did you hear that man, that Doctor Garr? How he said that to me - about how someone who is a leader should make a choice about that dirt sample or whatever pageantry he did there? Did you hear that? Did you see the look in his face as he asked me that? Oh that snake, that dog, that blasted snake - that smug grin on his face. Did you hear that come from him?"
"No, not like that." In truth, though, she did, but she knew that in times like this it was better to remain as tacit and pliant as she possibly could be and let him roll all the steam and bluster out of him as he can. The high intensity anger seemed to be subsiding, which meant that the brooding and scheming would come from him next.
"Well, one thing's for sure," He paused mid-sentence to turn to her side and let himself fall into the loveseat next to her. He puffed out a long breath as he stretched his feet out over the floor. "I will not ever try to act in confidence with that Daron anymore, absolutely not! Now I know that man cannot be trusted. Never, never. As for those other men, though. Those scientists there. I don't what I can do to deflate them some."
"All you can do is preach the Lord's love and forgiveness, and his will to judge the wicked."
The Reverend nodded silently in initial response, though the nodding motion was undertaken by his entire torso, which effectively made him rock back and forth in his seat. "Well, y'know what darling, you are right about that one too, yes. Here we are on the Sabbath and they made a demonstration about work. That's as clear cut of a violation of God's law as there ever has been. That is it. And everyone witnessed it too. No hearsay there. No room for misinterpretation. Hopefully, all I need to do is point that out to get people to see it the right way."
"Just keep it level, love."
"Keep it- of course! What do you take me for! Pah!" He turned his head away with a wave of his hand. "I'll do it the right way, just you watch. Just remind them that for all their brains, for all their sacred enlightenment, that it wast he Lord who inspired them to begin with. All things through Him. All things. They just need to be gently reminded, in case they got swept up and forgot."
"You'll right their course, love." She turned to kiss him on the forehead with a smile, then promptly sat up to exit to the kitchen and let him brood. She was happy to make the escape.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
18360122 06:57:28
18360122 06:57:28
"So hello hello! You are Daron Hoobler then, yes yes? Your friend Frederic sent me here! I am glad to be here at last! It was a trial getting through that trail with a quickness over the mud and cold, it sure was. The name's Joe!" He shot his hand out with a stiff stretch and held it out in the air. Daron stood dumbly still for a moment before he blinked to attention and reciprocated the gesture. In Joe's grasp and shake, his hand felt like a limp noodle.
"Yes, I'm Daron, it's nice to meet you Mister Joe, uh - is that, uh, how you want to be addressed? I mean, do you have a last-"
"Yeah that's fine Daron! Yes. No I haven't really taken a last name, like a proper one. Some folk called me Joe the Mime or Joe Mime sometimes, but that was only a few of them." Joe's eyes trailed off to the side as he made mention of that fact, and quickly snapped back to look up to Daron after a brief pause. "But anyways we got a lot to talk about and I don't think yall wanna do it out here, do yas? No no, not here, no."
"Uh, right, yes. I can have the boy tend to your horse, then." Daron turned to walk over to the doorway of the cabin and leaned his body inside the room.
"The boy? What boy's that?"
"Jesse, c'mon and take the guest's ride up. We got some things to talk. Some things. And yeah, take them too. You all best bundle up." With the last sentences, he waved his arm to point at the two Poole children.
Joe politely stood in place and waited with Daron for the children to leave to enter the cabin.
"That there's Jesse, Saul, and Marian. None of them are my own."
"I was just gonna ask, ha ha! Nice to meet you, children! I'm Joe! Glad to be here." Jesse turned to wave and say hello as he walked over to the horse and proceeded to lead it by the reins to the barn. The two Poole children walked past Joe without any kind of response and quietly followed Jesse as he took the horse away. Daron waved an arm in a circle to invite Joe to follow him inside the cabin. Daron poured more coffee into the tin cup which he had previously used and placed it in front of Joe as he stretched his legs out under the table with an exasperated sigh of relief.
"Whew! Good lord I'm just not a rider, my ass gets all tensed up and my legs get all stiffed up just doin that for a day, I could never be a soldier I tell you, yes yes."
Daron pulled his chair back and leaned his body forward over the table upon his forearms as he sat down across from Joe. His weak smile was quickly dropped and the tone of his voice was now sharply hurried and reduced in volume.
"Joe, forgive my lack of manners but I don't want to keep those children waiting out there forever, and I'm hoping that we have some rather serious business to discuss first."
"Yes, Daron, yes. Frederic told me about your situation and what you needed, and told me to expect you and the children here, and it's just as he said. I have this document prepared for you." Joe pulled a long white envelope out from the inside of his coat and placed it on the table. A red insignia of wax sealed the opening. "It's a Certificate of Death for one Whitney Poole, having died on December 27 1835 and the signatures of the Baltimore Morgue Director and Baltimore City Clerk. A copy of this document is in their records and it can be found on their files on demand. We set that in place. And as I hope you can assume from my name - these documents are all genuine forgeries which are identical to the finest detail. The signatures they have and the forms written look exactly like other Death Certificates on file, and all we needed to do from there is give a tip to the Clerk's secretary to get it added to their records. The widow can open this to see it for herself, and if she demands to return to Baltimore yet again for more proof, she'll find it there. It's all done."
"Oh, what a relief, what an incredible relief." Daron wrung his hands coarsely over each other and felt as if a physical weight was lifted off of his shoulders. "I do not know how to thank you enough."
"Well, Daron, I think you can do so, though, yes. Yes, while I have indeed made something of a name for myself back in the city there, I had to keep my talents, uh, limited, you see? See, I know that if you give me a pen and a letter, I can copy it. But see, that means if you can give me a brush and a painting, I can copy it. I got that eye, and while all around me folks are buying up all kinds of art and using their paper money to buy all that art and everything else, nobody ever asked me to copy that kind of stuff before. They was all afraid, they was yes. They look at me and think I can't do it. Well, you give me a place to stay here with you, I can show you I can do it - and that'll help you out as much as anyone else here, wouldn't it? I think so, yes yes!"
"I suppose that is true, if you can indeed perform the task, Joe." Daron smiled outwardly but suddenly felt as if the weight that had just been lifted off of his shoulders was slowly sliding back onto his body. Everything he had here was thanks to stolen money, and now he faced a proposal to use counterfeit money as well. Was he doomed to forever use illegitimate means to sustain himself?
"So hello hello! You are Daron Hoobler then, yes yes? Your friend Frederic sent me here! I am glad to be here at last! It was a trial getting through that trail with a quickness over the mud and cold, it sure was. The name's Joe!" He shot his hand out with a stiff stretch and held it out in the air. Daron stood dumbly still for a moment before he blinked to attention and reciprocated the gesture. In Joe's grasp and shake, his hand felt like a limp noodle.
"Yes, I'm Daron, it's nice to meet you Mister Joe, uh - is that, uh, how you want to be addressed? I mean, do you have a last-"
"Yeah that's fine Daron! Yes. No I haven't really taken a last name, like a proper one. Some folk called me Joe the Mime or Joe Mime sometimes, but that was only a few of them." Joe's eyes trailed off to the side as he made mention of that fact, and quickly snapped back to look up to Daron after a brief pause. "But anyways we got a lot to talk about and I don't think yall wanna do it out here, do yas? No no, not here, no."
"Uh, right, yes. I can have the boy tend to your horse, then." Daron turned to walk over to the doorway of the cabin and leaned his body inside the room.
"The boy? What boy's that?"
"Jesse, c'mon and take the guest's ride up. We got some things to talk. Some things. And yeah, take them too. You all best bundle up." With the last sentences, he waved his arm to point at the two Poole children.
Joe politely stood in place and waited with Daron for the children to leave to enter the cabin.
"That there's Jesse, Saul, and Marian. None of them are my own."
"I was just gonna ask, ha ha! Nice to meet you, children! I'm Joe! Glad to be here." Jesse turned to wave and say hello as he walked over to the horse and proceeded to lead it by the reins to the barn. The two Poole children walked past Joe without any kind of response and quietly followed Jesse as he took the horse away. Daron waved an arm in a circle to invite Joe to follow him inside the cabin. Daron poured more coffee into the tin cup which he had previously used and placed it in front of Joe as he stretched his legs out under the table with an exasperated sigh of relief.
"Whew! Good lord I'm just not a rider, my ass gets all tensed up and my legs get all stiffed up just doin that for a day, I could never be a soldier I tell you, yes yes."
Daron pulled his chair back and leaned his body forward over the table upon his forearms as he sat down across from Joe. His weak smile was quickly dropped and the tone of his voice was now sharply hurried and reduced in volume.
"Joe, forgive my lack of manners but I don't want to keep those children waiting out there forever, and I'm hoping that we have some rather serious business to discuss first."
"Yes, Daron, yes. Frederic told me about your situation and what you needed, and told me to expect you and the children here, and it's just as he said. I have this document prepared for you." Joe pulled a long white envelope out from the inside of his coat and placed it on the table. A red insignia of wax sealed the opening. "It's a Certificate of Death for one Whitney Poole, having died on December 27 1835 and the signatures of the Baltimore Morgue Director and Baltimore City Clerk. A copy of this document is in their records and it can be found on their files on demand. We set that in place. And as I hope you can assume from my name - these documents are all genuine forgeries which are identical to the finest detail. The signatures they have and the forms written look exactly like other Death Certificates on file, and all we needed to do from there is give a tip to the Clerk's secretary to get it added to their records. The widow can open this to see it for herself, and if she demands to return to Baltimore yet again for more proof, she'll find it there. It's all done."
"Oh, what a relief, what an incredible relief." Daron wrung his hands coarsely over each other and felt as if a physical weight was lifted off of his shoulders. "I do not know how to thank you enough."
"Well, Daron, I think you can do so, though, yes. Yes, while I have indeed made something of a name for myself back in the city there, I had to keep my talents, uh, limited, you see? See, I know that if you give me a pen and a letter, I can copy it. But see, that means if you can give me a brush and a painting, I can copy it. I got that eye, and while all around me folks are buying up all kinds of art and using their paper money to buy all that art and everything else, nobody ever asked me to copy that kind of stuff before. They was all afraid, they was yes. They look at me and think I can't do it. Well, you give me a place to stay here with you, I can show you I can do it - and that'll help you out as much as anyone else here, wouldn't it? I think so, yes yes!"
"I suppose that is true, if you can indeed perform the task, Joe." Daron smiled outwardly but suddenly felt as if the weight that had just been lifted off of his shoulders was slowly sliding back onto his body. Everything he had here was thanks to stolen money, and now he faced a proposal to use counterfeit money as well. Was he doomed to forever use illegitimate means to sustain himself?
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
18370409 11:18:19
18370409 11:18:19
"Mister Reverend Tarro, would you care to choose a location for us to gather this sample? You may choose anywhere you like."
Doctor Garr Peterson extended his hand out to the Reverend as he made this offer, which compelled most of the other people in the crowd to turn to look at the preacher. The man winced with discomfort in response before speaking.
"I'm uh, I'm sure that my particular choice is not exactly required for your demonstration, and this may be something which is more suited to your expertise."
"To the contrary, Reverend, I ask you specifically to undertake this request as we stand in the shadow of your church and to demonstrate that our assertions are applicable everywhere within this fine town. Otherwise, if you insist on demurring, I can ask a person - a leader - like Mister Hoobler here to do select the location instead."
"Fine." The Reverend glared back at the Doctor, and kept his stare fixed. "Take the sample from where I presently stand. May it show that the Lord compelled me to stand there for this purpose."
"Excellent. Gentlemen, shall we?"
The two pairs of two men flanked at the Doctor's sides silently took up their stepstools and sledgehammers, and walked to form a circle around the spot where the Reverend had stood. Doctor Garr walked over with the metal pole and stood it up on end in the middle of the four men, and held it in position with his gloved hand. He now spoke louder so that he could be heard to the edge of the crowd around them.
"This painted stripe around this hollow pole here marks one yard. These men shall now drive this pole into the ground until this marking, and then pull it back out again."
With a nod from the Doctor as he held it steady, the men took to striking the top of the pole in sequence so that it could be driven down in rapid succession. The pole sunk into the ground to the desired length within a few minutes. The Doctor stepped away to allow the men to grasp the pole, and in half of the time it had taken to drive the pole into the earth, they had managed to twist and pull the pole out from the hole.
"Now, this sample shall be extracted by forcing it out from the bottom through the top."
The stepstools were situated to align in a row, and the pole was laid on top of them. A white sheet was placed on the ground at the top end in order to collect the soil. Two of the four men now followed their next instruction, as one held a solid metal rod at the plugged end of the pole while the other struck at it with the sledgehammer. After eight strikes, the soil was fully extracted from the pole and the soil fell out onto the sheet. While the two men did this, Doctor Garr pulled a cloth covered tray and laid it beside the sheet where the soil would land, then pulled the sheet away once it had fallen out. The sheet concealed another soil sample which had the same basic appearance as the one that was just extracted in front of the crowd.
"This is another sample that I had collected earlier, and you can see that the sample we have just obtained now is roughly the same. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the main limitation that is now imposed on your crop. This discoloration you can see and touch to feel at the bottom of both samples here is hardened soil and clay - materials in which no crops can take root to grow. Your current methods of tilling do not loosen this hard clay up enough to maximize your yields. When Doctor Kufo and myself realized this issue, we sought to create something which would remedy this situation, and what we have created I am happy to reveal to you all today." With a smile, Doctor Garr nodded to Doctor Kufo, and both men bent down to pick up opposite ends of the large white canvas tarp that covered their invention. The men pulled it down, and the device came into view. It stood about eight feet tall and had two large wooden triangle bases, with a circular axis that connected the bases at the top. In the middle of the axis, a long metal arm stretched out at an angle and held a very large metallic pick at its other end. A long length of rope was connected to the back of the pick's head, and other free lengths of rope were seen wrapped tightly around the bottom bases as well as coming from a hole within the center of the axis at the top. The crowd remained silent with the unveiling and looked upon the machine in curious apprehension.
"Ladies and gentlemen, what you see here is a device with which the soil can be tilled to the depth that will loosen that hardened soil and clay which is now deep under our feet. No till which is currently on the field or the market, no till which an ordinary man or team can use, will ever penetrate the earth deep enough to till this compressed and infertile soil. With this device, one team of men will be able to pull the blade down to dig up the earth at such depths, and another team uses the ropes found at the bases there to maintain stability and traction. These devices can be easily made and soon you will see dozens of these on your fields. This is the solution to your crop yields, right here!"
The tone among the crowd gradually became livelier, and Daron started to nod and applaud the two Doctors, which compelled others in the crowd to join in. Reverend Tarro stood with a grimace and his arms crossed.
"Mister Reverend Tarro, would you care to choose a location for us to gather this sample? You may choose anywhere you like."
Doctor Garr Peterson extended his hand out to the Reverend as he made this offer, which compelled most of the other people in the crowd to turn to look at the preacher. The man winced with discomfort in response before speaking.
"I'm uh, I'm sure that my particular choice is not exactly required for your demonstration, and this may be something which is more suited to your expertise."
"To the contrary, Reverend, I ask you specifically to undertake this request as we stand in the shadow of your church and to demonstrate that our assertions are applicable everywhere within this fine town. Otherwise, if you insist on demurring, I can ask a person - a leader - like Mister Hoobler here to do select the location instead."
"Fine." The Reverend glared back at the Doctor, and kept his stare fixed. "Take the sample from where I presently stand. May it show that the Lord compelled me to stand there for this purpose."
"Excellent. Gentlemen, shall we?"
The two pairs of two men flanked at the Doctor's sides silently took up their stepstools and sledgehammers, and walked to form a circle around the spot where the Reverend had stood. Doctor Garr walked over with the metal pole and stood it up on end in the middle of the four men, and held it in position with his gloved hand. He now spoke louder so that he could be heard to the edge of the crowd around them.
"This painted stripe around this hollow pole here marks one yard. These men shall now drive this pole into the ground until this marking, and then pull it back out again."
With a nod from the Doctor as he held it steady, the men took to striking the top of the pole in sequence so that it could be driven down in rapid succession. The pole sunk into the ground to the desired length within a few minutes. The Doctor stepped away to allow the men to grasp the pole, and in half of the time it had taken to drive the pole into the earth, they had managed to twist and pull the pole out from the hole.
"Now, this sample shall be extracted by forcing it out from the bottom through the top."
The stepstools were situated to align in a row, and the pole was laid on top of them. A white sheet was placed on the ground at the top end in order to collect the soil. Two of the four men now followed their next instruction, as one held a solid metal rod at the plugged end of the pole while the other struck at it with the sledgehammer. After eight strikes, the soil was fully extracted from the pole and the soil fell out onto the sheet. While the two men did this, Doctor Garr pulled a cloth covered tray and laid it beside the sheet where the soil would land, then pulled the sheet away once it had fallen out. The sheet concealed another soil sample which had the same basic appearance as the one that was just extracted in front of the crowd.
"This is another sample that I had collected earlier, and you can see that the sample we have just obtained now is roughly the same. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the main limitation that is now imposed on your crop. This discoloration you can see and touch to feel at the bottom of both samples here is hardened soil and clay - materials in which no crops can take root to grow. Your current methods of tilling do not loosen this hard clay up enough to maximize your yields. When Doctor Kufo and myself realized this issue, we sought to create something which would remedy this situation, and what we have created I am happy to reveal to you all today." With a smile, Doctor Garr nodded to Doctor Kufo, and both men bent down to pick up opposite ends of the large white canvas tarp that covered their invention. The men pulled it down, and the device came into view. It stood about eight feet tall and had two large wooden triangle bases, with a circular axis that connected the bases at the top. In the middle of the axis, a long metal arm stretched out at an angle and held a very large metallic pick at its other end. A long length of rope was connected to the back of the pick's head, and other free lengths of rope were seen wrapped tightly around the bottom bases as well as coming from a hole within the center of the axis at the top. The crowd remained silent with the unveiling and looked upon the machine in curious apprehension.
"Ladies and gentlemen, what you see here is a device with which the soil can be tilled to the depth that will loosen that hardened soil and clay which is now deep under our feet. No till which is currently on the field or the market, no till which an ordinary man or team can use, will ever penetrate the earth deep enough to till this compressed and infertile soil. With this device, one team of men will be able to pull the blade down to dig up the earth at such depths, and another team uses the ropes found at the bases there to maintain stability and traction. These devices can be easily made and soon you will see dozens of these on your fields. This is the solution to your crop yields, right here!"
The tone among the crowd gradually became livelier, and Daron started to nod and applaud the two Doctors, which compelled others in the crowd to join in. Reverend Tarro stood with a grimace and his arms crossed.
Monday, November 4, 2013
19180311 09:03:40
19180311 09:03:40
CQ-N-8257
William woke from sleep in feeling dull pain cover the right side of his face. He had somehow managed to sleep on that side of his body despite the bandages pressing into his head throughout his rest. With a sigh, he rolled his body upright and kept his eyes closed as he limply reached a hand up to gingerly touch the bandages, and confirmed that the wounds were still sensitive enough to that limited amount of pressure. His response to this realization was seething and annoyance; after succumbing to that attack, he was all the more resolved to improve his physical training and response time. Lounging in idle recovery would also give his mind a platform to brood over his defeat. To be forced to spend the next few days doing little other than being awake and eating was a dreadful prospect, and his mind raced to form a plan of what to do instead.
Two goals were instantly manifest. The first was to get out of the room and preferably out of the house, and to not lie or sit down while out of school. The second was to immediately start to learn how to use a weapon. The injury was proof enough to him - he didn't have the reflexes to dodge something as simple as a broken bottle being swung at his face, so relying on his own fists for the purpose of offense was something he now regarded as an assured failure. This immediately led to the next question of what weapon to use. At the present moment, his options were limited. Guns were outlawed. He wouldn't have access to any kind of bow or knife. The only item which he possessed that was a reasonable choice was a baseball bat. It would have to do. William sat up and pivoted his body to get out of bed, and walked over to the dresser to get some kind of clothing on so that he could go outside to the backyard. Once he was ready to go out, though, he knew that he would have to interact with his mother.
Mary looked over from her seat at the kitchen table to the hall as she heard the footsteps approach, and the soft smile on her face which she had upon seeing her son in front of her, healthy and alive, quickly changed to confusion as she realized that he was already dressed. She didn't like the implication.
"Hi Ma." William glanced at his mother briefly as he entered the room and turned her back to her as he faced the stove to get some coffee from the pot.
"What are you doing? You're not going anywhere."
"No, just outside." He pulled a kitchen chair away and sat at the table to face his mother with a mug of lukewarm black coffee in a plain white mug. "I can't just sit still in my room, or even in here. I'll go nuts. I'll need to keep myself busy."
"Well, maybe if anything you can help with doing some laundry washing and hanging, and pick up some-"
"Yeah, but I want to do some practice too."
"Practice with what?"
"A baseball bat."
"A ba- what? A bat? How?"
"Well, maybe, like, you'll throw rocks to me and I'll try to hit them."
"No way." Mary was as galled by the suggestion with how dryly her son made it. "You'll break a window in two seconds once you do that, if not one of my legs or my own head, Jesus. No, boy, the doctor said-"
"Ma, I can't just sit here. I can't. Don't you see that? I'll just think about it and keep thinking about it and it'll make me angrier and angrier."
"You'll look like a fool out there with gauze wrapped around your head and swinging a baseball bat at rocks that I throw at you. That is just ... weird."
"Fine, OK, I'll try to think of some way you can help. Or I'll try to do something by myself. Either way. And I'm only going to the backyard so it's not like most anyone will see me."
"Fine, fine." Mary let a heavy sigh come out as a half hearted groan as she folded the newspaper up and went to her room to put on some appropriate clothes. William tilted his head back to take in the remainder of the coffee in his mug in one gulp, then went back to the stove to pour another half cup and take that all in with a single swallow as well. Now he felt ready. After sitting down to tie his shoes, he went out of the house through the rear doorway and removed the baseball bat from the outdoor shed. William held the bat with both hands and extended it out in front of him as if he held a diving rod, then made a point to loosen and tighten the grip on the bat as a way to become acclimated to its weight in his hands. Then he brought the bat up to the baseball batter stance, holding the bat tightly and hovering over his shoulder, before squinting his eyes shut and swinging the bat with all of the power that he could channel into his arms. During the third such swing, he saw his mother step out of the house and stand still at the opposite side of the doorway as she watched William swing the bat.
"Good. I had an idea, then. What if I stand in front of you, and you toss some of those rocks there over my head, and I try to swing at those. That way you're not in front of it."
"All right, but just don't swing for the fences or something. Just try to hit this into the ground. Only thing worse than you breaking something of ours is to break something that isn't ours."
"Yes Ma, yes."
Mary sighed with more resignation than anger at this point, and bent over to pick up some of the light lava rocks which lined the rear wall of the house at the ground.
"All right, ready?"
"Yeah Ma. Go ahead."
She dipped her hand down and tossed a rock upwards in an easy underhanded lob. The rock went up in a high arc and came down inches in front of William's body, and he couldn't back away in time to get proper clearance to swing the bat.
"Go farther out."
Mary wound her hand back and threw the same as before, but releasing earlier to propel it more forward than upward. The arc was sufficiently large enough that William had enough time to take two steps forward and wind up before swinging. The attack connected, and the rock was drilled into the shed door with a loud strike.
CQ-N-8257
William woke from sleep in feeling dull pain cover the right side of his face. He had somehow managed to sleep on that side of his body despite the bandages pressing into his head throughout his rest. With a sigh, he rolled his body upright and kept his eyes closed as he limply reached a hand up to gingerly touch the bandages, and confirmed that the wounds were still sensitive enough to that limited amount of pressure. His response to this realization was seething and annoyance; after succumbing to that attack, he was all the more resolved to improve his physical training and response time. Lounging in idle recovery would also give his mind a platform to brood over his defeat. To be forced to spend the next few days doing little other than being awake and eating was a dreadful prospect, and his mind raced to form a plan of what to do instead.
Two goals were instantly manifest. The first was to get out of the room and preferably out of the house, and to not lie or sit down while out of school. The second was to immediately start to learn how to use a weapon. The injury was proof enough to him - he didn't have the reflexes to dodge something as simple as a broken bottle being swung at his face, so relying on his own fists for the purpose of offense was something he now regarded as an assured failure. This immediately led to the next question of what weapon to use. At the present moment, his options were limited. Guns were outlawed. He wouldn't have access to any kind of bow or knife. The only item which he possessed that was a reasonable choice was a baseball bat. It would have to do. William sat up and pivoted his body to get out of bed, and walked over to the dresser to get some kind of clothing on so that he could go outside to the backyard. Once he was ready to go out, though, he knew that he would have to interact with his mother.
Mary looked over from her seat at the kitchen table to the hall as she heard the footsteps approach, and the soft smile on her face which she had upon seeing her son in front of her, healthy and alive, quickly changed to confusion as she realized that he was already dressed. She didn't like the implication.
"Hi Ma." William glanced at his mother briefly as he entered the room and turned her back to her as he faced the stove to get some coffee from the pot.
"What are you doing? You're not going anywhere."
"No, just outside." He pulled a kitchen chair away and sat at the table to face his mother with a mug of lukewarm black coffee in a plain white mug. "I can't just sit still in my room, or even in here. I'll go nuts. I'll need to keep myself busy."
"Well, maybe if anything you can help with doing some laundry washing and hanging, and pick up some-"
"Yeah, but I want to do some practice too."
"Practice with what?"
"A baseball bat."
"A ba- what? A bat? How?"
"Well, maybe, like, you'll throw rocks to me and I'll try to hit them."
"No way." Mary was as galled by the suggestion with how dryly her son made it. "You'll break a window in two seconds once you do that, if not one of my legs or my own head, Jesus. No, boy, the doctor said-"
"Ma, I can't just sit here. I can't. Don't you see that? I'll just think about it and keep thinking about it and it'll make me angrier and angrier."
"You'll look like a fool out there with gauze wrapped around your head and swinging a baseball bat at rocks that I throw at you. That is just ... weird."
"Fine, OK, I'll try to think of some way you can help. Or I'll try to do something by myself. Either way. And I'm only going to the backyard so it's not like most anyone will see me."
"Fine, fine." Mary let a heavy sigh come out as a half hearted groan as she folded the newspaper up and went to her room to put on some appropriate clothes. William tilted his head back to take in the remainder of the coffee in his mug in one gulp, then went back to the stove to pour another half cup and take that all in with a single swallow as well. Now he felt ready. After sitting down to tie his shoes, he went out of the house through the rear doorway and removed the baseball bat from the outdoor shed. William held the bat with both hands and extended it out in front of him as if he held a diving rod, then made a point to loosen and tighten the grip on the bat as a way to become acclimated to its weight in his hands. Then he brought the bat up to the baseball batter stance, holding the bat tightly and hovering over his shoulder, before squinting his eyes shut and swinging the bat with all of the power that he could channel into his arms. During the third such swing, he saw his mother step out of the house and stand still at the opposite side of the doorway as she watched William swing the bat.
"Good. I had an idea, then. What if I stand in front of you, and you toss some of those rocks there over my head, and I try to swing at those. That way you're not in front of it."
"All right, but just don't swing for the fences or something. Just try to hit this into the ground. Only thing worse than you breaking something of ours is to break something that isn't ours."
"Yes Ma, yes."
Mary sighed with more resignation than anger at this point, and bent over to pick up some of the light lava rocks which lined the rear wall of the house at the ground.
"All right, ready?"
"Yeah Ma. Go ahead."
She dipped her hand down and tossed a rock upwards in an easy underhanded lob. The rock went up in a high arc and came down inches in front of William's body, and he couldn't back away in time to get proper clearance to swing the bat.
"Go farther out."
Mary wound her hand back and threw the same as before, but releasing earlier to propel it more forward than upward. The arc was sufficiently large enough that William had enough time to take two steps forward and wind up before swinging. The attack connected, and the rock was drilled into the shed door with a loud strike.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
19180309 11:44:20
19180309 11:44:20
DA-N-6000
The woman's yell was all that William Humeski needed to assess the situation, as it caused everything else around her to react in kind. He turned around to see a circle of space slowly form around the woman as she raised her hand to point at the door which was still open from the thief running through it. The gasps and staring by the surrounding people verified that the crime was committed. William had this kind of situation in his mind before, and he was waiting for it to come, hoping for it to come, so that he could prove his morals to others and himself. Time stood still long enough in his eyes to watch the static freeze of the onlookers and the yelling woman's mouth form each syllable of the words "Stop, thief!", and he knew that his time to act was right now.
He leaned his body forward to have his shoulder meet the glass pane of the doorway as he used his outstretched arms to push people out of the way for clearance. Once outside of the store, he quickly looked from side to side to see if he could find the runner, and the slowing walking pace of the pedestrians across the street and yelling by a few carriage and car drivers in the road gave him the guidance he sought. The thief was a small teenager who wore a black overcoat and matching hard shoes, and was running with enough speed and force to make his steps audibly cut through the dense shopping traffic. William decided to cut across the street at a diagonal and try to cut him off immediately. He rigidly held his hands as if to make them into two scalpels which pierced the air in front of his eyes as he exerted his maximum physical and mental effort to catch up to the runner. Each step was a dash off of the ball of his foot from the red worn bricks of the road, each breath came out of his mouth exactly as each alternate hand swept up to its apex. The gap between them was quickly closing, and spectators ahead of both of them were taking measures to be out of their way as they approached. The thief knew that he could make his way through an upcoming alley in a few feet, but was distracted by the sound of the approaching running coming from behind him, and in that realization, he made the mistake of turning to look behind himself. That moment of anxiety was enough for William to close in on the thief and make a lunge to wrap his arms around his waist. The tackle caused both of the boys to tumble and skid forward on the sidewalk and careen into a garbage can that was placed across the entrance to the adjacent grocery store. The thief released his grasp of the purse as the force of his collision against the can caused it to tip over and spill its contents onto the sidewalk as it tumbled and rolled. William positioned himself to roll the boy over and kneel on his body, then yelled out as he pulled his right arm back to strike at the thief's face. The thief reflexively responded by swinging his leg upward and kicking away at William's crotch. William's arms went limp and his yell was immediately muffled by the strike. This gave the thief enough time to look to his side and see an empty glass bottle on the ground, which he picked up after rolling upright upon his knees, then grasped at the neck to swing it at William's face. Some shattered fragments of glass glistened in the sunlight as they fell away from William's face, while others dug their edges into his flesh and tore bloody gashes into the side of his cheek and neck. William instinctively raised his left hand to press it against the cut flesh, but doing this caused some fine glass fragments to dig deeper into his face as well as his fingertips. William became dizzied and staggered in place as he attempted to regain focus in his attack, but the lapse in his offense was all the thief needed. Before William finished wiping his bloodied hand against the side of his body, the thief had already ran forward with his waist bent over so that he could knock William away and reach for the purse on the ground by his feet. The thief simply continued running forward with the purse in his hand and suddenly ran into a store at his right. William turned to see the thief go inside and began to move his legs forward to give chase, but his head reeled and the view of the street around him tilted to an angle and spun as he struggled to keep his eyes open and his body standing. He was soon forced to kneel upon the sidewalk as he held both of his hands up to his neck and felt warm liquid seep through his fingers. His breathing became more labored and his entire body soon started to tremble. A man from the nearby grocery store suddenly whipped the door open and stood to look at William as he knelt on the ground in pain, and only needed to take three steps forward to see the red liquid trickling from his bloodied hands. The man quickly went back inside and started to yell something, and the last thing that William remembered was trying to figure out what language the man was yelling.
The grocer, who yelled in Italian to his brother inside the store to call for police, soon returned to the sidewalk with a handful of white shirts and dashed over to William, who was now lying doubled over his knees with labored breath and was losing consciousness. The man reached knelt besides William and dropped the shirts at his side, then pulled William's hands away from his neck so that he could brush away the visible fragments of glass still embedded in the flesh. Then, he tied the white shirt around William's neck as tight as he felt he could make it to still allow him to breathe yet apply pressure to minimize the bleeding. He then gently helped reposition William so that he could lie prone upon his back on the sidewalk, and held his head up to cushion it with another shirt before releasing it from his hands. When he stood up and saw the several people who stood motionless and watching them nearby, he yelled "We called polizia!" out to them as he pointed four fingers to his own chest.
----
PS: Today marks the 100th entry into the Everstreets Draft blog. Thank you for reading.
DA-N-6000
The woman's yell was all that William Humeski needed to assess the situation, as it caused everything else around her to react in kind. He turned around to see a circle of space slowly form around the woman as she raised her hand to point at the door which was still open from the thief running through it. The gasps and staring by the surrounding people verified that the crime was committed. William had this kind of situation in his mind before, and he was waiting for it to come, hoping for it to come, so that he could prove his morals to others and himself. Time stood still long enough in his eyes to watch the static freeze of the onlookers and the yelling woman's mouth form each syllable of the words "Stop, thief!", and he knew that his time to act was right now.
He leaned his body forward to have his shoulder meet the glass pane of the doorway as he used his outstretched arms to push people out of the way for clearance. Once outside of the store, he quickly looked from side to side to see if he could find the runner, and the slowing walking pace of the pedestrians across the street and yelling by a few carriage and car drivers in the road gave him the guidance he sought. The thief was a small teenager who wore a black overcoat and matching hard shoes, and was running with enough speed and force to make his steps audibly cut through the dense shopping traffic. William decided to cut across the street at a diagonal and try to cut him off immediately. He rigidly held his hands as if to make them into two scalpels which pierced the air in front of his eyes as he exerted his maximum physical and mental effort to catch up to the runner. Each step was a dash off of the ball of his foot from the red worn bricks of the road, each breath came out of his mouth exactly as each alternate hand swept up to its apex. The gap between them was quickly closing, and spectators ahead of both of them were taking measures to be out of their way as they approached. The thief knew that he could make his way through an upcoming alley in a few feet, but was distracted by the sound of the approaching running coming from behind him, and in that realization, he made the mistake of turning to look behind himself. That moment of anxiety was enough for William to close in on the thief and make a lunge to wrap his arms around his waist. The tackle caused both of the boys to tumble and skid forward on the sidewalk and careen into a garbage can that was placed across the entrance to the adjacent grocery store. The thief released his grasp of the purse as the force of his collision against the can caused it to tip over and spill its contents onto the sidewalk as it tumbled and rolled. William positioned himself to roll the boy over and kneel on his body, then yelled out as he pulled his right arm back to strike at the thief's face. The thief reflexively responded by swinging his leg upward and kicking away at William's crotch. William's arms went limp and his yell was immediately muffled by the strike. This gave the thief enough time to look to his side and see an empty glass bottle on the ground, which he picked up after rolling upright upon his knees, then grasped at the neck to swing it at William's face. Some shattered fragments of glass glistened in the sunlight as they fell away from William's face, while others dug their edges into his flesh and tore bloody gashes into the side of his cheek and neck. William instinctively raised his left hand to press it against the cut flesh, but doing this caused some fine glass fragments to dig deeper into his face as well as his fingertips. William became dizzied and staggered in place as he attempted to regain focus in his attack, but the lapse in his offense was all the thief needed. Before William finished wiping his bloodied hand against the side of his body, the thief had already ran forward with his waist bent over so that he could knock William away and reach for the purse on the ground by his feet. The thief simply continued running forward with the purse in his hand and suddenly ran into a store at his right. William turned to see the thief go inside and began to move his legs forward to give chase, but his head reeled and the view of the street around him tilted to an angle and spun as he struggled to keep his eyes open and his body standing. He was soon forced to kneel upon the sidewalk as he held both of his hands up to his neck and felt warm liquid seep through his fingers. His breathing became more labored and his entire body soon started to tremble. A man from the nearby grocery store suddenly whipped the door open and stood to look at William as he knelt on the ground in pain, and only needed to take three steps forward to see the red liquid trickling from his bloodied hands. The man quickly went back inside and started to yell something, and the last thing that William remembered was trying to figure out what language the man was yelling.
The grocer, who yelled in Italian to his brother inside the store to call for police, soon returned to the sidewalk with a handful of white shirts and dashed over to William, who was now lying doubled over his knees with labored breath and was losing consciousness. The man reached knelt besides William and dropped the shirts at his side, then pulled William's hands away from his neck so that he could brush away the visible fragments of glass still embedded in the flesh. Then, he tied the white shirt around William's neck as tight as he felt he could make it to still allow him to breathe yet apply pressure to minimize the bleeding. He then gently helped reposition William so that he could lie prone upon his back on the sidewalk, and held his head up to cushion it with another shirt before releasing it from his hands. When he stood up and saw the several people who stood motionless and watching them nearby, he yelled "We called polizia!" out to them as he pointed four fingers to his own chest.
----
PS: Today marks the 100th entry into the Everstreets Draft blog. Thank you for reading.
Friday, November 1, 2013
19580218 10:00:00
19580218 10:00:00
HSF #101.0246
Doctor O12 reporting on initial completion of Consumer Project "EZ Cart".
Project completion has occurred three days before estimated time of completion and using five hundred bucks less than budgeted allocation. Special thanks is hereby made to Doctor W7 for his assistance in implementation of the signal detection of metal presence.
Dimension: The EZ Cart system is to be designed on a per model basis and is will not have an overall universal size; this is mostly due to the variance in trunk sizes among the various car models. Custom construction is also required for the retractable wheel legs, in order to ensure that the cart is at the proper height from the ground so that loading and removing the cart container requires no additional lifting by the user. Footprint for EZ Cart requires two boxed bases at the horizontal sides of the cart which may be up to four inches wide, but can be less. Additional space of three inches on the side of the cart compartment which is opposite of the lifting units is required for the retractable wheels.
Functionality: EZ Cart's supporting structure operates on a two button panel which is contained in a separately wired switch box and kept within the trunk. In the "off" state, the EZ Cart support arms are contained within the vehicle trunk and hold the cart in place. Switching to or from the "off" state will respectively contract or extend the EZ Cart arms. In removing the cart from the trunk, the EZ Cart arms will follow a predetermined path to first elevate the entire cart body to a certain height out of the trunk area (Z axis movement), then move the arms horizontally to position it out of the vehicle area (X axis movement). The arms will remain in this position until the switch is activated to return the EZ cart arms to the original "off" position, using a process which is the reverse of the procedure undertaken when the switch is activated "on". Folding latches on each arm will hold the cart in place as well as serve as one means with which the system will be able to detect that system operation is being conducted normally; in the "on" state, "off" cannot be activated until the latches are opened, and in the "off" state, "on" cannot be activated unless the latches are secured onto the cart.
Possibility for future improvements include ways for the arms to move other than one singular Z axis direction followed by one singular X axis direction. Telescoping retractable legs would also reduce effort required for use as well as ease construction costs for the necessity of making separate measurements on the basis of car model. An additional current limitation which either improvement could address is the present necessity for the vehicle to be on a level surface for ideal functionality.
Suggested marketing angles: Less wasted time compared to the manual unloading of items from a shopping cart to the trunk. Having a cart in hand ensured upon approach to the store. Having a cart which does not possibly have the contamination of other shoppers. Having a cart which the user can individually customize. Considering the potential limited market on the basis of required construction costs, these last two points may prove to be the most effective.
HSF #101.0246
Doctor O12 reporting on initial completion of Consumer Project "EZ Cart".
Project completion has occurred three days before estimated time of completion and using five hundred bucks less than budgeted allocation. Special thanks is hereby made to Doctor W7 for his assistance in implementation of the signal detection of metal presence.
Dimension: The EZ Cart system is to be designed on a per model basis and is will not have an overall universal size; this is mostly due to the variance in trunk sizes among the various car models. Custom construction is also required for the retractable wheel legs, in order to ensure that the cart is at the proper height from the ground so that loading and removing the cart container requires no additional lifting by the user. Footprint for EZ Cart requires two boxed bases at the horizontal sides of the cart which may be up to four inches wide, but can be less. Additional space of three inches on the side of the cart compartment which is opposite of the lifting units is required for the retractable wheels.
Functionality: EZ Cart's supporting structure operates on a two button panel which is contained in a separately wired switch box and kept within the trunk. In the "off" state, the EZ Cart support arms are contained within the vehicle trunk and hold the cart in place. Switching to or from the "off" state will respectively contract or extend the EZ Cart arms. In removing the cart from the trunk, the EZ Cart arms will follow a predetermined path to first elevate the entire cart body to a certain height out of the trunk area (Z axis movement), then move the arms horizontally to position it out of the vehicle area (X axis movement). The arms will remain in this position until the switch is activated to return the EZ cart arms to the original "off" position, using a process which is the reverse of the procedure undertaken when the switch is activated "on". Folding latches on each arm will hold the cart in place as well as serve as one means with which the system will be able to detect that system operation is being conducted normally; in the "on" state, "off" cannot be activated until the latches are opened, and in the "off" state, "on" cannot be activated unless the latches are secured onto the cart.
Possibility for future improvements include ways for the arms to move other than one singular Z axis direction followed by one singular X axis direction. Telescoping retractable legs would also reduce effort required for use as well as ease construction costs for the necessity of making separate measurements on the basis of car model. An additional current limitation which either improvement could address is the present necessity for the vehicle to be on a level surface for ideal functionality.
Suggested marketing angles: Less wasted time compared to the manual unloading of items from a shopping cart to the trunk. Having a cart in hand ensured upon approach to the store. Having a cart which does not possibly have the contamination of other shoppers. Having a cart which the user can individually customize. Considering the potential limited market on the basis of required construction costs, these last two points may prove to be the most effective.
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