Jackie and I arrived at the conveyancer’s office at precisely 14:03 on Tuesday afternoon, the fifth of January. The weather was fair, although it seemed that would soon change, with dark storm clouds approaching. A typical day in Melbourne, for summertime. We’d been sent on a mission to find a rogue time traveller, who was reportedly attempting to buy a house in the early years of the twenty twenties. This was the fourth conveyancer we’d visited yet in this time period, and hopefully, it would lead to some answers about the time traveller’s whereabouts.
I pushed open the door to the firm of conveyancing around Mentone, and Jackie followed me inside. He had that usual swagger in his step that seemed to suggest he felt good about this one, even though it had been present at all the other conveyancing firms we’d visited. Ever the optimist, old Jackie.
As the receptionist welcomed us to the building, I pulled down my dark shades and stored them in the front pocket of my suit jacket. Lifting up my briefcase, I placed it on the receptionist’s desk without so much as looking her in the eye. In the corner of my vision, I could just make out the furrow in her brow, and I had to hold back a smirk at her surprise. There was a lot I liked about this job, but catching people off guard had to be right at the top of the list.
“Conveyancing receptionist,” I said casually, pulling a photo of a young man from my suitcase, “have you seen this fellow recently? Early twenties, likely too young to own a house, but not young enough that your superiors would refuse to see him.”
The receptionist gave a sigh that almost seemed as if she was exhaling a puff of smoke. “He was here earlier today. Said he was thinking about buying a house in Malvern. It didn’t work out with us, unfortunately.”
I looked at Jackie, giving a brief nod. “That’s all we needed to hear.”
– Amanda
One down, three to go.
I don’t know why the image of my father standing in a graveyard unsettled me so much. Perhaps it was less the graveyard, and more that he was working on a car while in a graveyard. There was an old, beaten up vehicle in the background, and my father held a wrench in one of his hands. I felt so bothered by the picture that I had to leave the workshop immediately, spending the day around town until my brake and clutch repairs were finished. Once they were done, I opened up the next sealed letter, telling me which auto workshop to go to and what service to get there.
As science fiction tells us repeatedly, humanity’s greatest weakness at the moment is that our spacecraft are too tiny and cramped. Imagine if we had ships like they have in 
Shirley and Dan can keep their home shows, so far as I’m concerned. Homes are overrated; pretty much 
I guess we’re all back at school, because the bosses have just started doling out weird punishments for silly things. Like, the box came in and caught Alex looking at shoes, so they moved her desk over to the window where they could keep an eye on her and took away her ‘browsing privileges’. Now she’s locked down to about three websites, which makes it pretty hard to do her job.
What most people fail to realise about Unagi is that it doesn’t just apply to fighting. To be sure, Unagi is a beautiful and mysterious process of being aware of your surroundings at all times, but it applies to all sorts of other things.
Yeah, so…I’m done with this group. Maybe not forever, but definitely for the night. I mean, for real, if you come into a role-playing group, one of the basic tenets is that you play by the rules. I don’t care if you’re bored: you came along to a tabletop RPG night where you knew full well we’d be playing ‘Renovation Revolution’. It’s set in the real world and it’s all about using DIY skills to improve your home. If you want all that wizard and elf nonsense, go join another group.
Is it just me, or has the ‘Simulation-Settlement’ series gotten a lot more…
OH. MY. BARNACLES.