28th December 2070
Camera activates. Rusty’s sitting on his bed, slipped halfway down the wall. He looks tired and sounds drunk, slurring his words and he has noticeably problems in gathering his thoughts.
I’ve been hired by the owner of Jay’s Boathouse North to do some sleuthing for her. After Liana blurted out ’You’re a runner?’ during our dinner at the restaurant, that was as good as leaving a calling card. I don’t know if Miss Neapolitana really believes she has hired some kind of professional, but I don’t think she has a lot of choices. Her restaurant has been getting harassment for weeks from people who don’t like seeing orks and trolls in Snohomish and it’s been bad for business. Stuff like people calling the sanitation department for checkups, people overturning the trash in front of the doors and people throwing paint bombs.
I have some crappy security camera videos and the address of a church where someone sent threatening mails from. Caidian helped me with the videos, so I at least know what the truck the paint-throwing guys drove looked like. Plus part of the license plate. Go, me.
I’ve been talking to a nun over at the church Saint Brendans Catholic Church. Sister Mary has nothing to do with all this or she’s a way better liar than I give her credit for. I don’t think the members of the congregation have accepted her with open arms. But they would probably throw her out if they knew that she was…whatever she is. Mage, technomancer, I don’t know. Something.
Aaaanyway. She promised to help me and is now trying to figure out with Caidian where the mail exactly was sent from and maybe who did it. I don’t think it will lead anywhere, but it’s nice not to run into a wall right away.
She also told me to get a beer at the Bawdy Lass and at Brother Anatole’s. Anatole’s is a redneck dive, the Lass an Irish pub, so I went there first. Almost went out of the window right away when I asked the barman if he knew anything about the trouble at the Boathouse. Thank fuck I speak Gaeilge and was right about the Lass being meta-friendly. I got no real help there, but at least a beer and the chance to leave on my own. Yeah. So that was intense.
The Brother Anatole is a different beast. There’s no way I was going to waltz into that bar and just asked around. So I came up with Culan, who lives in Everett, is freshly married, looking for work and has a beef with orks. That went down well with Ivan, the barman. I got invited to the next meet-up of the neighborhood watch right away. Friendly enough, but still a bunch of racists.
I also may have got myself a job interview at one of the farms. I talked a bit with this girl, Sophia, who told me that her dad might be looking for a farmhand who knows his way around machinery and said to call her tomorrow. No idea if she’s honest about that because she was way too busy flirting with me to actually take that offer seriously. But I’ll call her tomorrow anyway and I’ll do my best not to get in trouble.
He stops talking and almost falls asleep before he jerks upright again and remembers to turn the camera off.