This article is part of the The Blue Stripe Logs series.
Home, unsweet home.Honestly, I don't know how much help I am going to be for your book. I am not a cigarette manufacturer no matter what my bosses said. I have an associate's degree in animal grooming.
What do I know about cigarettes? I know I have to push a button and the Tobacconium comes out of the hopper, lands on the little pieces of paper, and then they go into a folding machine. Sometimes the hopper gets jammed and I have to climb up on the conveyor and clear the jam. That's about all I know
I've been doing this since they sent out those recruitment teams. That was like two months ago, that's no three year associate's program at Delphi Vocational School. I'm a frakking pet groomer. I put down pet groomer and I ended up here. Does that seem fair to you? It doesn't seem fair to me?
Alright, Heather. Get a grip. Deep breaths. Remember your mantra. Sorry, I'm okay. Just got done pulling a long shift and this lousy ersatz coffee is making me crave a nice tall caramel frappaccooni from Earthbucks.
Do you have Earthbucks where you are from? Starbucks, huh? Very funny. I can't stand that frakking clunt. I've only met her once, and let me tell you, I am soooooo bummed out that she died. What a loss for the mankind.
So you're collecting space stories? That is so neat. I didn't know there was a publishing ship in the fleet. Do you think I can talk to your editor? I've got a lot of ideas. I think a book about pet grooming would really-
On the Internet? Sounds dangerous, but what do I know, right? Okay, anyway, you said you wanted to know about my life and times. What it means to live and breathe and work, mostly work, as Heather Toreeno.
Piles of tobacconium waiting to frak me off.Like I said, I've been on the line aboard Sirrom Pilihp for about two months. Maybe not quite that long, but it feels like about fifty years. I thought it was bad sitting around doing nothing on the homeopathic spa ship Soothe, I should have had them train me on doing algae wraps and gotten a job there. This is hell-on-Caprica, and I say that know full well that there is probably literally hell on Caprica right now. I would rather be there is how bad this is.
I guess, you know, I have learned some things. Like a whole galaxy of new cuss words. I was a good girl before coming here, honest, but now I talk like a marine at a good times parlor. Everything is "frak this" and "suck a durk that" with me now. If my language offends you, just remember the miserable situation I am in.
You said when you first came over that you wanted work logs or something like that. I'm sorry, I can't give you anything like that. I don't have a work log and I have done so many different oddjobs since we left Caprica that all I really have for that is my diary.
I can give you that if you insist you need something like that, but you have to "a" promise me you will give it back and "b" promise you will cut out any of the parts where I talk about this guy Dayl Tobin.
Normally I would never do this sort of thing, because this stuff is personal, but Gaius Baltar says, "To listen requires a voice." I believe it when he says that. I have really become politically active since coming to this slave ship working for the government that controls us like robots. Dr. Baltur's book has changed my life for the good exactly as much as being forced into indentured servitude on this ship changed it for the bad.
What if you were a cop and the Skittle was mentally disturbed and wanted to be eaten?
I'll never forgive these giant alien insects! I'm trying!
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