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The Armourer: An Opco Boone Adventure: Difference between revisions
The Armourer: An Opco Boone Adventure (view source)
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The boy looked star-struck. | The boy looked star-struck. | ||
But, now you need a long wait. Now, listen to me: as long as you don’t touch anything, I’m happy to let you go in. But this is a sacred space, understand? This is reserved sanctuary for the Eagle Squad Commanders, and you must respect it. There is their library; their control; their golden stream of authority. There is so much vital wisdom here, catalogued and arranged carefully. Some of the scripts are extremely fragile.” | But, now you need a long wait. Now, listen to me: as long as you don’t touch anything, I’m happy to let you go in. But this is a sacred space, understand? This is reserved sanctuary for the Eagle Squad Commanders, and you must respect it. There is their clause library; their control; their golden stream of authority. There is so much vital wisdom here, catalogued and arranged carefully. Some of the scripts are extremely fragile.” | ||
Burke slapped a pair of white cotton gloves on the counter. | Burke slapped a pair of white cotton gloves on the counter. | ||
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His pulse quickened. This was the ''special'' sauce. Assorted, curated clips and parchments, some dating back ''decades'' — manuscript amendments, balloons, blobs, [[rider]]s inserts, [[side letter]]s, handwritten variations, accessions, scribbled markups in the hands of these fallen warriors of the FAS Wars. ''A complete set of the [[Enron Corpus]]''. Everything was here: the sum total of Eagle Squad learning. | His pulse quickened. This was the ''special'' sauce. Assorted, curated clips and parchments, some dating back ''decades'' — manuscript amendments, balloons, blobs, [[rider]]s inserts, [[side letter]]s, handwritten variations, accessions, scribbled markups in the hands of these fallen warriors of the FAS Wars. ''A complete set of the [[Enron Corpus]]''. Everything was here: the sum total of Eagle Squad learning. | ||
“''Wait a minute''! Could there be —” he said out loud, but before he finished the thought, he was racing down the aisle. The stack was alphabetical, by topic. He let his fingers do the walking. “[[BIPRU]] ... [[BIS]] ...[[Bid-ask]] ...[[bifurcation]] ... [[big data]] ... ''[[Biggs constant|Biggs]]''” | “''Wait a minute''! Could there be —” he said out loud, but before he finished the thought, he was racing down the aisle. The stack was alphabetical, by topic. He let his fingers do the walking. “[[BIPRU]] ... [[BIS]] ... [[Bid-ask]] ... [[bifurcation]] ... [[big data]] ... ''[[Biggs constant|Biggs]]''” | ||
''There it was''. He pulled the file. The volume was dry and worn away at the edges. The spine was cracked. He carefully leafed back through the pages — 1999, 1998, 1997 ... August, July, June — but then thought, ''no. Let’s do this properly. The way it is meant to be done''. He closed the book, balanced it on this palm. As the august legal commentaries of his apprenticeship had predicted it would, the volume, so beloved of Eagle Cadets over the ages, fell open at page 532. E. J. regarded it: a yellowed, waxen page, pinned in the corner. On it, smudged, faded pixels. He could just make out the underlying, double-faxed text. | ''There it was''. He pulled the file. It slid out easy, like a sword from a stone. Gently the boy cracked the file. It was light. It was — ''empty''. The hoson was missing. The boy noticed an insert in a cardboard pocket glued inside the folder. It was date-stamped 1997. He pulled it. | ||
REMOVED FOR SECURITY PURPOSES. Refer armory. ''[Signed]'' O R. M. Boone, E.S.C. | |||
As it ran away from him, the corridor darkened into a black hole. E.J. shuffled down. He held out his highlighter. It was running low on charge but the out a weak orange beam. At the end, he saw a dark stained wooden door. | |||
The volume was dry and worn away at the edges. The spine was cracked. He carefully leafed back through the pages — 1999, 1998, 1997 ... August, July, June — but then thought, ''no. Let’s do this properly. The way it is meant to be done''. He closed the book, balanced it on this palm. As the august legal commentaries of his apprenticeship had predicted it would, the volume, so beloved of Eagle Cadets over the ages, fell open at page 532. E. J. regarded it: a yellowed, waxen page, pinned in the corner. On it, smudged, faded pixels. He could just make out the underlying, double-faxed text. | |||
}}{{quote|THIS LEGEND SHALL CEASE TO APPLY UPON THE EXPIRY OF THE PERIOD OF 40 DAYS AFTER THE COMPLETION OF THE DISTRIBUTION OF ALL THE SECURITIES OF THE TRANCHE OF WHICH THIS SECURITY FORMS PART.}}{{indent| | }}{{quote|THIS LEGEND SHALL CEASE TO APPLY UPON THE EXPIRY OF THE PERIOD OF 40 DAYS AFTER THE COMPLETION OF THE DISTRIBUTION OF ALL THE SECURITIES OF THE TRANCHE OF WHICH THIS SECURITY FORMS PART.}}{{indent| | ||
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“Whoa,” E. J. breathed. “The original [[Biggs hoson|Biggs Hoson]] itself.” There it was: that famous, emboldened period: the tiny, microscopic, indivisible unit of legal markup. E. J. just stood there and took it in, in its iconic, finical exactitude. So ''stark''. So ''simple''. So ''elegant''. So ''pure'', in its absolute, utter, limit-attaining pedantry. E. J. whispered: “None smaller. None more pure. None more pedantic.” | “Whoa,” E. J. breathed. “The original [[Biggs hoson|Biggs Hoson]] itself.” There it was: that famous, emboldened period: the tiny, microscopic, indivisible unit of legal markup. E. J. just stood there and took it in, in its iconic, finical exactitude. So ''stark''. So ''simple''. So ''elegant''. So ''pure'', in its absolute, utter, limit-attaining pedantry. E. J. whispered: “None smaller. None more pure. None more pedantic.” | ||
E.J. stretched out his finger to touch the sacred mark | |||
}} | }} | ||