For security reasons, the following segment and all other italicized passages in the transcript of this holog were excised for security reasons by the crew of the Veritas from their original holocoms in 2078. They were restored some 25 years later when the voyages of the Veritas no longer needed to be kept secret due to the significant changes that took place in world government in 2102.
Hi there! Uncas, again. Glad to have you with me.
My first stop is the ice factory in Mallett’s Bay where I’ve worked for the past few years. This is where, in winter, we cut out the millions of huge ice blocks that are used throughout the year by the one million or so residents of Burlington. As you might suppose, summer isn’t a real busy time of year for us. Dispensing ice is far less labor-intensive than harvesting it. That’s why, in summer, those of us who work here, take our vacations, rotating so there’s always enough workers to deliver ice to the restaurants and housing complexes that order it. That’s how I was able to slip off for the last few weeks to help launch the ship in the lower lake. But, I’m due back from vacation at the beginning of the next work-week (Tuesday), so I have to hand in my resignation today.
Now, I'm entering the small warm-up room, where by, government regulation, us ice men spend 15 minutes out of every hour, warming up. It’s supposed to keep us from getting hypothermia. Even though we dress in layers, you can still get pretty darn cold in the ice complex down below. The work we do there isn’t as active as you might think. There’s very little physical work involved. We do almost all our cutting, lifting, and shipping with hydraulic tools and lifts. So, we’re mainly pushing buttons and pulling levers. Here's one of my co-workers, sitting by the solar stove, warming his feet and hands and playing solitaire.
“Hey, Carlito, is Big Joe around?”
“Hey man! Long time no see. Where you been?”
“Oh, me and my cousin, we took a couple-week canoe trip over in the Maine lakes of the Iroquois Nation.”
Lying to Carlito is no big deal for me; he isn’t really one of my close friends. When it comes to my friends, it's going to be a whole lot harder, but totally necessary. My pals and I are real tight and honesty with each other is one of the things that keeps us that way. Still, we can't take any risks.
“Decent, man! That’s cool. Seen any Injuns?”
None of my buddies would ever say anything like that to me. For one thing, many of us, like me, are part Native American and we don’t appreciate being called Injuns. Also, my buddies are just plain more respectful of people than the average Joe is.
“Yeah, we met up with a couple of Iroquois. Fished some with ‘em. Good people. They don’t like to be called Injuns, you know.”
“Cool it man. I was just playin’ with you. I know you an’ yours are real P.C. I’ve met a few Iroquois, myself and they was alright.”
No point in debating with Carlito. He is who he is. Nothing I say is going to change him and, as a co-worker, he pulls his load, so I really don’t have much to complain about. If I got in to an argument with everyone I encountered whose values differed from mine, I’d be constantly arguing.
“Yeah, well, anyway. Is Big Joe around?
“Sure. I think he’s down at the main shed, double-checkin’ inventory. Been a real hot summer so far and we lost quite a bit of ice. I think the cat’s uptight we gonna’ run out afore winter.”
“Hmm… O.K. Thanks, Carlito. Hasta luego!”
Whew! He seemed to buy the canoe trip story.
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