Blank screen, maybe a couple of miscellaineous windows up. Seriously heavy and loud sounds in the foreground. Then a window springs up with Miranda in it.

Miranda: Wotcha James, I didn't expect to hear from you until later on. How was it?

James: Ace fun. Really great.

Miranda: Oh smashing. I bet you've had the time of your life. You'll be talking about it forever I'll bet.

James: Er. Well, yeah we have had a bit of a laugh.

Miranda: Are you alright? You seem a bit tired. You been up all night celebrating?

James (uncomfortably): Well, I certainly didn't get much sleep.

Miranda: You are...

Frame break. Look at both of them, one on the screen.

Miranda: Oh, no. You're going aren't you. You're going to Nalengua.

Frame watching James. He just doesn't know what to say.

Miranda closes her eyes.

Miranda: Oh, God. You're leaving me.

New page. The next scene is done as if it's a continuation of the conversation, but it's about a week later and Progen, with James on it, has just left.

James is in his room on Progen. It is relatively spacious, having his bed with a small screen and a desk with a large screen. Make it as flash as you like, but it should be designed in such a way as to be fairly familiar surroundings as that that might be found on Earth. He is sitting at his desk with a phone window up with Miranda on it.

James: It's just so hard to believe that it's actually happening at all, let alone with me on it. It was great when we left, we all watched Spinning Jenni fall away from us. Everything in my room was all over the place when we left cos I forgot there'd be a couple of minutes gap between Jenni's gravity and Progen's. It's just so ace to be part of such a cracking experiment.

Miranda: Yeah, I know. Have they told you more about what you are going to be doing all the time though?

James: Yeah. They reckon that some people are bound to die throughout Progen, and early on Nalengua. So to avoid any major problems they've got about ten of us that spend all our time going around and learning everything about everything that happens on Progen. So when someone dies or can't work or sommut, the others in the department get promoted, and we nestle in at the bottom.

Miranda: So you just go round doing nowt?

James: That's about the size of it. Well, we spend half a year in each department, learning the ropes and all that, they'll give us little jobs to do to help them out and all that.

Miranda: Sounds a bit boring compared with what you were doing though.

James: Maybe, but when you're in a department, you get access to all their secret little nuggets of info. So I can sit and learn all that and find out just how the whole place really runs.

Miranda: Smart. D'you know anyone there yet?

James: Apart from me cousin and Dozy, and they're both gets, no. All of us lot who go around the place, floaters they call us, we'll spend a fair bit of time together so I'll probably get to know them first. All the others, right, they're all other halves of people who they really wanted on Progen, but who wouldn't go unless their other half did. I don't know why they picked me.

Miranda: Corse you do. You're bright and happy all the time. They probably want you to liven Progen up a bit.

James: Maybe! Andy (teach from Gensim I think. check.. Edit thei s ouhjtat FOUT out.) said that most of the people that had already gone up were, quite frankly, a bit boring. Makes sense I suppose doesn't it.

Miranda: Are the other floaters on your floor?

James: Nah, they're all in couple's accommodation.

Miranda: Oh right.

James: I'm on a floor full of single blokes. Should be a laugh. They all work in different places. I haven't really spoken to them yet. They've all been here a fair while and know eachother quite well.

Miranda: Where are you working first then?

James: Food processing. I should be being taken down there any time now. That's the place with all those racks and racks of vegetables growing and the beer, well lager, and all that. Then after six months there I nik off to the communications side - so I'll be part of the real screen team that Nosy's on. He might be on my floor actually, well anyway, then on to navigation which should be smart cos I don't know owt bout that. But we'll be pushing lovers limit then so that's probably all you'll ever hear about the rest of my life. And I'll never get any more replys to my letters.

Miranda: Well that was your choice.

James: Yes. Yes, I know.

Another phone window pops up on James's screen with a message to the effect that this geezer from personnel wants a word in your shell like.

James: 'Ay up, what's this? Can you hang on a second Miranda. I think I'm being called for my first day's work. I'll only be a couple of ticks. See ya in a bit.

Miranda: See ya shortly.

James pushes an appropriately labeled button, the new window becomes active. Sort it how you like.

James: Hello John.

John: Hi James. Enjoying it?

James: Yeah, it's great int it?

John: The best. Anyway, enough frivolity, you can't go round life enjoying yourself - work.

James: Yup.

John: Shall I come round to take you off to Food Processing now?

James: Sure. Shall I come down?

John: Well, I wouldn't bother. We're suppost to take you from A to B first time. I think we'll maybe rethink that in due course, but we'd have to do all that quality stuff, changing the proceedures and that, so we'll stick to it for the moment. I'll be right up. Bye.

James: Bye then.

Pushes another button.

James: Hi I'm back.

Miranda: Hi.

James: He's coming to pick me up straight away.

Miranda with red eyes but holding herself well considering: So this is it then. I'll carry on writing to you for the rest of my life. It'll be a bit one sided, but It'll tell you how we're all doing.

James: Oh, thanks. You should get letters quite frequently until lover's limit. But I'm afraid that they'll peter out to nothing in no time after that.

Miranda: Enjoy yourself then.

James: Don't forget I love you.

Frame pause.

Miranda: You'd best go now. Bye.

James: I should. Bye then.

James thinks: Well, Goodbye Earth. What a cliche/!

Bing bong (door bell noise.) John has pushed the doorbell button on the screen outside James's door. James sees him on his desk screen.

James: Shall we let him in Puter? Oh go on then.

James opens the door manually.

James: Hello John.

They shake hands.

John: Hello James. Ready?

James: I've been ready all day.

They walk out of the door, onto the landing and push the lift button.

John: What you been doing then?

James: Lock it (to the screen once they've left his room.) Ringing up old friends really. A bit sad I suppose, but good to speak to them all again. Passing the time really.

John: Not too bored I hope.

A lift comes and the walk to it and get in. John pushes another button.

James: No, just excited really. Time just stops when you're excited doesn't it?

John: Yeah. Mind you, time nearly will stop for us later in the trip.

Both laugh controllably. The lift stops at the food processing office floor. All the diameter of Progen is open plan office space with the accellerators, lifts and stairs breaking up the centre. They leave the lift and approach someone whose desk is closeby.

John: Hello. This is James, the floater that'll be with you to start off with.

The bloke just looks up at him blankly, across to James, then further across to another bloke working there. The other bloke (and everyone else in the office (all male - important)) is looking at them. No one says or does anything.

John (to the first bloke): Well, can I leave him with you?

Frame silence with a slightly agressive look at John from the bloke.

Bloke: Well I don't know what to do with him. (He turns to the bloke he looked across to.) Bijou?
 

H/I-a1 Village shop monopoly
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Yet another office scene. Again, the basic elements are chair, desk and screen. Try and make it distinguishable from James's office in earlier scenes.

Paul has got Miranda a coffee in and brings it over to her.

Paul: How's it hangin 'en?

Miranda: Dah, not too bad I suppose. Got a letter from James last night.

Paul: Yeah?

Miranda: Yeah. Seems to be doing alright. He reckons we should start a game of chess. Bloody ridiculous eh?

Paul: Sounds like him.

Miranda: Yeah, suppose so. I'm still living with his grandparents you know.

Paul: Yeah?

Miranda: Yeah! They had a flat for James's Great Grandmother, and we moved in when she died. Then he left me there when he went off to Nalengua. It was alright when he was in Gensim cos he was sort of expected back.

Paul: You didn't though did you?

Miranda: No. No I didn't, but that shot of hope was a real killer. You couldn't just put it all down to experience at that stage cos statistically there was still a good chance of him coming back. I got on much better with his Great Grandmother than I do with his Grandma. His Grandpa's alright, but you never get him alone and it's Grandma who's got full reign. I could handle those three months alright, and they'd never ask me to leave, but I just want to move out now.

Paul: Mmm, yes, and how long have you been having these feelings?

Miranda (laughing): Don't joke, it's serious.

Paul: Most people have problems with people not cleaning the house, or eating their butter, but not Miranda.

Miranda: It's not really like the old house. I just can't stop myself always considering them as James's family first, and my house mates second.

Paul: You going to move back to Mill Road then?

Miranda: Well I though about it. I went out with some of the girlies last week. That's the first time I've ever felt like I'm ageing.

Paul: Obviously not been paying too much attention to the mirror then eh?

Miranda: The cutting edge of contempary wit as ever. Nah, I wish it wasn't so, but I really didn't enjoy it as much as I should. We went down the pub and loads of their friends were down there. A couple of odd blokes came over to either start or finish relationships with one or other of them. They were having so much fun. I sort of wished I could be back like they still are, and enjoying it. But I've changed now, it's not so easy anymore.

Paul: Get a grip, you must be the most outgoing woman I know.

Miranda: Dah, sometimes I am, but sometimes I'm not. The odd thing is that it's blatently obvious that they're having much more fun than me, and I still look at them as if they're the unfortunate ones, just cos I've moved on. You know: been there, done that. It's such a riduculous emotion.

Paul: So what you really want is a place you can move into immediately, that's just right for one person, maybe with a small proviso that you'll have to share for about a month.

Miranda: Uh?

Paul: Well, I'm moving out in a month when Sue comes down and we're getting a place together. So why don't you move in now so we can have a bit of a piss up, and a laugh before I move out. Can't see there being any problem in you taking over the flat once I'm gone.

Miranda: You serious?

Paul: Natch.

A call comes up on Miranda's screen with some git on it. His name is in there somewhere too. (Make it up you idle get.)

Miranda: I'd love to. Really?

Paul: Yeah, I'll see if it's OK with land allocation, and youc'n move in tonight.

Miranda: Yeah, go on. TONIGHT?

Miranda pushes a button.

Miranda: Hello.

Bloke: Hello I'm from Dutch Elm. I thought I should inform you about one of our customers who we've temporarily stopped supplying.

Miranda: Yes.

Bloke: Yes. It's the Shingey cum Wendy Old post office. They're selling our goods at what we consider to be unreasonably high a margin.

Miranda: Have you got a copy of their accounts?

Bloke: Yes, shall I send them to you?

Miranda: Yes.

Bloke: 'And make it snappy!' (to his screen) I've highlighted the figures that directly affect us.

The accounts appear on a new window on Miranda's screen.

Miranda: Right, well I'll obviously have to check them out, but they look a bit over the top.

Bloke: Yeah, they're just trying to exploit their monopoly on the village. Obviously they don't have as large a turnover a stores in the centre, so you'd expect prices to be a bit higher, but they're taking the mick a bit there. Not the sort of reputation we'd want to rub off on us, we don't really dig greed, it ain't cool.

Miranda: OK. Thanks for telling us. I'll check those figures again, the auditors, and yourselves of course. Once I've got to grips with all that, I'll give the Old Post Office a tinkle and see what they've got to say on the matter. Depending on their reaction, I'll either leave it a day or so for them to sort it out if their sorry about it all, or I'll contact all the other suppliers, and try and get an article into a couple of local news programs. I'll keep you informed whatever. OK?

Bloke: Great, well thanks, that was quick. Hope to hear from you soon.

Miranda: Cheers
 

H/I-a2 Paul's Flat / Chess Letter
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Paul's flat has just got one main living room/kitchen with a bathroom and a bedroom off it, unless you can think of owt better. Miranda's in the bedroom hanging a few of her clothes in his wardrobe, whilst Paul's clearing up all the cutlery et cetera. Show him doing the washing up and draining it all. Lots of Miranda's stuff is piled up all round the place in strong reusable boxes.

Paul (just finishing off): Come on Fetty, it's just about to start.

Miranda comes rushing in and sits on the sofa, too close to Paul for platonic comfort. They're mutually invading eachothers space, but although both concious of it, they're both easy with it.

The screen (acting as a plain TV now): In a change to the advertised program tonight, we have a tribute to Bernard Carter, who died in his sleep last night. This week's history of Rock will be shown next week. ...

Miranda: It's always the bloody first to go. I don't know why they bother advertising it if it's never bloody on. Who the hell was he anyway? I've never heard of him.

Paul: Well, I suppose I'd best use the opportunity to give Sue a bell. Shame it's such a reasonable hour!

Miranda: What am I supposed to do then? It's alright for you to go running off to your girlfriend, but you can't leave me like this surely.

Paul: Dah, I'm sure you can write a letter your boyfriend. He's bound to reply sometime before you're dead.

Miranda: That's not as stupid an idea as you might think. He did send me a letter a couple of nights ago. I'll write him a letter.

She goes and gets some lined paper and a refillable ballpoint pen out of one or more of the boxes, sits at a desk and composes this:

Dear James,

Thanks for the letter. The amount of time it takes to get your letters is starting to become noticable. You sent the letter over a week (earth time) before I got it, and the gap between letters is starting to become significant. We'll have to start writing letters before we've got a reply to the last one!

It's a shame they haven't really got much work for you yet, but I suppose they're still getting to grips with it all themselves. Enjoy it while you can. My work's still going quite slowly too, just tight fisted shopkeepers who are trying to charge the Earth. I suppose I'll get doing some better stuff soon, but research still looks as remote as it ever did.

Well, I've moved out of your Great-Grandma's flat now, it was just a bit too large for me there. I'm taking over Paul's flat now. It's quite near the centre of town, and there's a shop just on the corner, it's ace. I couldn't believe how quick land allocation were, I'm used to them taking a week to tell you that you might have a problem, a week after you've solved it. They just said yes straight away, as soon as we suggested it. Paul's still living here for the rest of the month until he moves into his new place with Sue. I don't reckon your Grandma'll stay there much longer cos they don't really want anyone new living in with them, and it's getting a bit too big for them. They'll get a couple sized place for next to nowt, especially when you consider how well they keep that house.

[Paul walks past her and goes into the bathroom.

Paul: How you doing?

Miranda: Alright, I'm just finishing off. Only another paragraph.]

What a cracker of an idea to have a game of chess. It'll take 600 years between turns after the first five each, so I'd best get weaving. You didn't tell me whether or not the black's queen is to the left of the king or not, but in keeping with your 'no computers' philosophy I haven't asked what it should be. But I was thinking that it doesn't really matter which one I choose as long as I stick with it. It can be a big secret between Earth and Nalengua: are we using the board the same way round or not - we'll never know! Our direct desendants will have great debates as to what moves to play. They'll even have great debates about who is a direct decendant, and thus able to take part in the debate.

Anyway, King's prawn from 2 to 3. Lick that!

Lots of love,

Miranda. xx

She then holds the letter up to the screen.

Miranda: Can you get this please James.

In no time the letter appears on the screen just as it does on the paper, even though she's (relatively speaking) waving the sheet all over the shop when James is tring to digitize the handwriting.

Miranda: OK send that.

She then puts the letter, paper and pen back away. Paul then comes out of the bathroom, and Miranda heads to the bathroom (gagging for it like all women - poor blader design.) They stop slightly too close again for normal comfort.

Paul: Half seven, Earl Grey?

Miranda: I usually take my tea stirred with a silver teaspoon that's been washed in water that's had the juice of half a lemon and a pinch of salt added to it. If that's OK.

James (smiling dismissively): Good night Miranda.

Frame pause as they're both confronting the natural urge to kiss (peck) eachother goodnight.

Miranda: Night Paul.

Miranda has a slash, cleans her teeth, changes, converts the sofa into a bed, turns the light out and gets into bed accompanied with the following thoughts: God Miranda, what's going on eh? I know you're good friends n that and all your actions could be put down to good freindship, but what about that goodbye? We nearly kissed goodnight. On the face of it that might mean nothing, the fact that we surpressed it does mean something. If it was nothing then why didn't we kiss and go to bed.

When he took the mick about James, I'd have gone off in a huff if anyone else would have said it under any other circumstances, but it just seemed amusing. Even someone at work thought we were going out together. I nearly fell through the floor. And when he called me Sue by accident! I don't know, what the hell do you see in him? He's never stood out to you at work as being particulartly attractive before, but I suppose he hasn't struck you as being ugly either. Well except for his dog breath, that really is truly repulsive. There, you're not so close to mention to him about his Hurrrrr, that's something I suppose. He's maybe a little more feminine that most blokes, and I suppose I'm slighttly more masculine than other women. That might draw us together. Dah, it's only the proximity were keeping that's doing all this. I mean, we've spent the whole day together today: off to work, lunchtime, home from work, watching TV, making and eating food, and now to bed at the same time. We even communicated with our other halfs at the same time. Dah, stop worrying about it, get some kip now Mliranda.
 

HO4 Food Manufacture
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James is sat in the food office on Progen. Somehow (since it's an essentially circular floorplan) they've managed to put him in a corner where he's very isolated from everyone else there. He's slouching back very low on his seat looking sidewards out of a window far across the room, with a screen in front of him.

James thinks: God, do they really think I'm going to get anything out of just sitting here and reading? They don't bloody realize that I can actually do things for them. It'd only take a minute to tell me something to do, then I could spend the rest of the day doing it. If I had any problems I could ask Puter, but Puter can't give me a job to start off with.

Tut. Spend the first couple of weeks going through the procedures. A COUPLE OF WEEKS! I'm sure they're all very well written and that, but it's all complete crap unless I've got at least some realization of the problems involved. The first one I read was ideal for me, except it left me salivating for a chance to do some of the things it outlined. Toon! Gits, none of them have the faintest notion that I might be less than totally fulfilled here. Dah, I'll read that introduction to food again. I might pick up the odd nugget I missed last time.

James: Show us that intro to the food bit again Puter.

When most people are asked to consider the problems of sustaining life on a space ship they come up with generating air, and food as the main obsticals. Oxygen is produced by plants. You can kill two birds with one stone by eating the plants which while they're growing, make air. Progen has a generous 200,000 square metres of soil devoted to growing food for it's 1000 populace. As all this area is hand planted, monitored and reaped, exceptionally high yealds are achieved. 100 floors worth of the 50 metre diameter Progen are dedicated to the growth of plants. The outer 3m of this volume is used to provide a 15 km walkway that spirals around the area where the plants are grown, gradually up or down hill. This is one of the really beautiful features of Progen. The inner 8m diameter core cannot be used for food since it contains the accellerators, transports water, electricity and communication, and houses the two staircases and the lifts. This donut shaped cross sectional area is split up into 32 segments, Only 31 of the segments have trays in them for growing plants. When layer upon layer of these trays are stacked up on top of eachother, the spare sectors form a huge empty column. This column is used to gain access to any tray. To do this the layer containing the required tray spins around until that tray lies in the column. The tray is then lowered down the column to the agricultural department, where it can be inspected, treated, planted, or reaped.

The trays hold a range of plants, and the distance between succesive layers of trays is determined by the height of the plants in the lower tray. A plant's productivity is measured in crop per cubic metre as compared to crop per square metre - the ruler usually used on Earth. All the trays have banks of lights on their undersides to provide light for the plants growing below, and sprayers to provide them with water. Cameras under the trays allow the crops to be monitered, and enables the distance between the trays to be optimized. The small distance between the top of the crop and the bottom of the tray above is displayed fantastically from the walkway around the circumference of the ag. area.

As there are no animals, and hence animal products on Progen, protein is in relatively short supply. To solve this problem we use another two birds with one stone solution: we convert all our poo into food - single celled protein. The process also reuses the parts of plants that are not eaten directly as food like potato leaves, and lettuce roots. To start the process we must take all the waste, mash it all up and mix it with water. This is done within a vat with spinning blades inside it. It is kept cold (0-5 degrees C) so that nothing grows inside it: we want that to happen later.

From the vat, the slurry is passed through a pipe where steam injected into the pipe sterilizes it. Enough steam is used to raise the temperature to 140 degrees C for 3 seconds. The slurry must have a constant, low viscosity so that when it is forced down the pipe at a high enough velocity, the liquid flows in a turbulent manner (see Reynolds number) and it effectively stirs itself: the heat is distributed evenly and the steam can sterilize the slurry uniformly. The rate of flow down the pipe is constant, so 3 seconds from the injection of steam is a fixed distance. At the end of this length of pipe the slurry enters an expansion chamber with a much lower pressure. All the steam rises out of the top of the chamber and the sterilized slurry is collected at the bottom. It now enters the fermentation vat. All of our waste is eaten here by a handy little bacteria: corynebacterium which looks like a cloudy liquid. All we do is keep feeding them with our waste. They keep eating and multiplying, and then we eat them - just like farm animals back on earth.

To obtain the maximum amount of food, the baacteria must be skimmed off the top of the vat at the same rate as the slurry coming in. This rate is carefully calculated to keep the rate of increase of bacteria to a maximum. The contents of the vat is about 2g solid per litre. The bacteria needs to breathe, so sterilized air (ie very finely filtered) is bubbled in at the bottom, and the whole vat is lightly agitated by rotating plates proturding off an eccentric axle.

Now we have got our protein, but it's not in such a form as we'd really like to see on our plates for every day of our natural, although there are some funny people around! Once again we must sterilize the liquid in exactly the same way as before down the pipe. Then the solid part is extracted by a simple centrifuge. We've now got a gooy sticky slimy substance which we wash in a vat of water with an agitator. Centrifuging again gets us a wet looking solid, which is packed full of DNA which ain't so hot since it gives us dioreaha and gout. To breakdown the DNA we heat shock it in batches. Firstly it must travel down a pipe heated to 68 degrees C for 3 seconds, which empties into a vat kept at 50 degrees C to incubate for two hours after filling it up.

Since this is the major source of protein, for the population of Progen, it would be nice to have a couple of basic forms of the product for everyone to cook with. So we make a fine powder which is used like a high protein flour, and textured bacterial protein (TBP), a light dry solid (like a dense version of Wotsits - Woody) that once hydrated, has a texture comparable but not really similar to small lumps of meat.

To make the powder, the heatshocked bacteria is drum filtered, which is very similar to tumble drying in concept, but without heating. The wet solid obtained is then spray dried: it is both highly heated and highly presurized and forced through a spinning bulb perforated with loads of small holes. The water in the protein when released into the vat surrounding the bulb evaporates, and is collected at the top of the vat (hot steam rises.) The powder (the finished product) now falls to the bottom and is collected there. NB the powder tends to stick to the sides of the vat which causes explosions if it is allowed to settle there in the heat. So the sides must be vibrated to avoid such a build up.

To make TBP, water should be mixed with the protein and a binding agent in a vat to form a thick slurry. Again, it is heated and pressurised, but this time it is forced through a small hole (about half an inch in diameter.) Again the water evaporates when it is released. The extrusion is then chopped up to form the TBP chuncks.

James thinks: Well, that last coffee's gone through me now, time for a slash.

He gets up and timidly walks around the room towards the kitchen and toilet near the centre of the floor with his mug. He slows down to let people who would otherwise end up walking behind him walk infront, but avoids any eye contact as he slowly appraches the junction with them. The open plan kitchen is just before the toilet and James must pass it en route. As the kitchen (basically a sink, draining board, fridge and kettle) comes into view there is someone making a drink there. Look of horror on James' face. The bloke then at the sink looks at James, but James looks away before any eye contact is made and James walks straight past and into the toilet trying to conceil his mug. Through the Gent's door, straight into a trap locking the door mechanically. Still standing he listens for a frame. Hearing no sound he puts the mug down on the floor, lifts up the seat, undoes his flies and starts pissing onto the side of the bowl to silence his discharge. Then you hear someone come in. James stops pissing but stands completely still listening. He hears him piss in a urinal, wash his hands, blow dry them, and leave. All tediously slowly. Try to force the reader to go through this embarrassing period too rather than letting her just scan over bits with no words. Veiwing the scene from complecated angles which the reader finds hard could be a possibility. Once the bang of the door closing is heard James zips himself up and leaves without washing his hands. Again he tries to conceil his mug, and be discrete as he leaves, but someone sees him.

Someone: Jim?

James turns around embarressed about the mug.

Someone: Oh, I didn't think the coffee here was THAT bad.

James tries a vague laugh which is very embarressed, says nothing and goes red.

Someone: I wonder if you could give me a hand ...
 
 

James is now just about to start doing the job asked of him: sitting down picking strawberries from a tray suspended like a table.

James thinks: Coffee. (He gets up and walks confidently down stairs to the kitchen with his head up high.) God this is great, a whole afternoon with something to do. For the whole afternoon I can feel part of Progen. I'm doing a job and people are relying on me to do it. By the end of this shift I've got to get that tray done.

There's a bloke in the kitchen filling his mug with coffee.

Bloke: What they got you doing then?

James: Oh, I'm picking strawberries til the end of the shift. Haven't really started it yet, but it look fun.

Bloke: Yeah, it's not that bad really. I've seen others do it.

James puts his mug down next to the bloke's, who puts some hot water in both of them.

James: Cheers. See ya round.

Bloke: Yeah, see ya.

James thinks: You've even walking back confidently for God's sake. Do they realize how much of an impact their whims have on your life? All I need is a job that needs to be done and I automatically become a participant in society, and I'm happy. I even didn't throw that bloke's conversion right back in his face. Depression and talking come in a sort of pair; you're either in one state or the other, sort of. Happy people aren't talking 24 hours a day, natch. But if you're depressed you can't converse properly with people which can only worsen the depression. Whereas it is only that social contact that's going to draw you out of the depression.
 

H/I 4 Letter ' Everything's new'
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... Anyway, it's ace to hear from you again.

This place is so different from Gensim. Pretty crap simulation if you ask me. Its got such a different feel to it. Gensim was competitive I suppose, but everyone there was trying to get on and fit in there. It's not like that here. Everyone's trying to settle down and make the place home. But it's not. Everything's new, everything. When you change job or something on Earth, it feels like everything's new, but it isn't. You've still got your family and friends, and even if you move house too, you probably haven't moved to an area that you've never been to before, and don't know fairly well. And of course you can always move back if you don't like it. There's just nothing here that even resembles anything from home. Quite a big step to make really: leave everyplace and every person you've ever known and loved, and pretend none of your past life ever happened. Maybe I didn't think hard enough about the decision to come here. I had trouble when I started work and I loved that before too long. Maybe I'm just getting slower to adjust.

Dah! It'll all sort itself out I know, they always do. But it just looks a bit confused at the moment.

And of course that tricky second move King's pawn to King 3.

Lots of love

James xx
 

H/I-a 4 Carer's pay
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Miranda's at work sitting at her desk scribbling onto a pad of paper. Thinking, crossing out and then scribbling somewhere else on the page with loads of words and phases circled with arrows 'n that.

James (her screen): Got a call form your sister. Do you want to pay for it?

Miranda pushes the 'I'll Pay' button.

Miranda: Hiya, How you doing?

Sister: Ace. You still coming up?

Miranda: Natch. Did you not think I'd make it then? I'm no part timer me. Shame on you for letting the thought enter your head.

Sister: No, no. Just checking like.

Miranda gets a new window coming up.

Miranda: Hey! I've just got a letter through from James.

Sister: What's he say?

Miranda: How'm I supposed to know? I've only just got it through.

Sister: What, while we've been talking? (Nods.) Well read it out then.

Miranda: Ooh, I don't like to. I expect he'll say he's married with three kids by now.

Sister: What? Is he really old now then?

Miranda: Daaaaah, got yer! Nah, he stays younger than we do. He'll reach Nalengua ten years after he left, but it'll be 300 years before he gets there for us, and then another 300 years until we can get messages back from them about it. You see little old lady, he'll be travelling at as good as the speed of light for most of it, so he'll not be ageing much while he's covering all that distance.

Sister: He must get pretty bored, walking about so slowly all the time.

They both titter a bit.

Miranda: Yeah, the delay between letters is starting to get larger now. He's only been gone three and an half months now and it'll take nearly a month (our time) for him to receive any letter I send now.

Sister: Well divn't worry about him, cos I'll tell ya what we're gonna do. We're goin'ta get that horny Richard guy that you tapped off with last time. We're gonna bring him up to Lough for the weekend, and we're gonna tell him you're quite interested. I've never known anything to get a shy bloke trying to show how manly he really is and get him to make moves, than to suggest that it would be fruitful. Works wonders.

Miranda: Oh God. I'll be so embarressed, I won't know what to say.

Sister: Da, that's alright, a couple of beers, and neither of you'll worry about that. Both of you can normally talk to the wall, you'll be laughing.

Miranda: Well, I'm having second thoughts now. Maybe I won't come up after all.

Sister: Get a grip man. You serious?

Miranda: Nah! (Tee Hee.) I've got to wait for some geezer to give me a bell before I go really. See, there's this woman who's mother's now incapable of living without full time help. She's not too bad mentally and she's got many years fun left in her, so her daughter's given up her work with a Smartness company. Anyway, somehow Smartness have messed up her carer's pay and she's not had any shod for the last two weeks. Yeah? So unless they sort it out, we're going to release it.

Sister: God, I don't understand you lot. Contempary News is a Smartness company isn't it? (Nods.) So you'd release all this guff on how bad Smartness is and tell everyone to stop using Smartness products. I suppose you'd tell them not to listen to the rest of the report. 'We suggest you only listen to our competitors news reports so you'll put us all out of a job.' Don't worry me ducks, we'll convert you this weekend, you'll be alternative before you know it.

Miranda: Yeah, it does seem a tad silly on the face of it. Just try thinking of all these conglomerates as the equivalent of the olden governments of big countries like England and Germany. They're pretty similar really, they just work better than those governments. You've got to force them to do the right thing for other people so you know that you'll be treated OK yourself. And if you're not you know that others will fight for you.

Sister: I still reckon you're mad. When are you gonna be up then?

Miranda: James? (Window with some current and predicted travel info comes up.) An hour and an half after the call, so hopefully by half six? Unless they don't find her the money then we'll be a bit later than that. Anyway, it shouldn't come to that.

Sister: OK, see ya then, then.

Miranda: Seeya.

Together: Byeee.
 
 

Miranda and Richard are a few beers down and are lying on the floor infront of an electric heater that is glowing red and is the only light source. They're ramming their tongues down eachother's throats like its going out of fashion.

Miranda Thinks: Get in.

They stop snogging. Richard rolls over to face the fire with Miranda still on her back infront of him.

Richard: I just can't believe we haven't spoken to eachother all day. It's been such a crap day as well. I'm not normally like this. Only when there's a woman I really like around. I have to censor everything I'd normally do or say without thinking. I've got to make sure that I'm not just doing or saying something to show off to you. It always gets censored, and I spend the whole day doing and saying nothing except being embarressed.

Miranda: I thought you didn't like me. I thought you were embarressed about getting off with me last night.

Richard: Oh Miranda.

Quick kiss and hug.

Richard: I suppose that was the only thing you could have thought. Oh I'm sorry.

Another quick K & H. Sad gets!

Richard: I just wish I could cope with it all a bit better. I don't know what to do.

Miranda: Oh don't worry. We're alright now.

Richard: Yeah, more by luck than judgement.

Richard lies down with his head lying on Miranda's sholder, staring at the fire.

Miranda: Yeah, I spose.

Frame pause.

Miranda: Are you still going out with that girl?

Richard snorts with a surprise / ironic laughter combination, as you do.

Richard: Yeah. Yeah. 'That Girl.' Yeah. I suppose I really should do something about the situation. I mean, we're really close like, but it's been almost three months since she went off with him. She still calls me from his place. I don't know if it's designed to make me feel like I haven't eaten for half a week, or do the same for him. It works on me anyway whatever her motivation is. I suppose I'm just an excuse now for her to enjoy herself with him without having to sleep with him. Any road, it's basically over.

What about you? Have you heard much from him?

Miranda: Yeah, he writes alot. I got one Thursday, I'll write on Sunday to tell him about this weekend. Well most of it. He's not himself really. He was always bright and friendly: happy. But his letters seem a bit withdrawn. He'll get on alright, it'll just take him a bit. I mean, when he started work he used to hate it. One day a week without his mates. After about six months he could hardly wait to get another day there. He'll be alright.

Miranda looks at Richard's eyes. He then looks from the fire to her.

Miranda: It's nice to feel a bit more free of him.

They smile. Silent frame.

Miranda: It was funny early last night when I came in and we didn't even formally acknowledge eachother, even avoiding eye contact. And then spent the rest of the evening flirting with other people just to proove to eachother that we were attractive to others or something. 'Sfunny how we work isn't it?

Richard: Yeah, me especially. How are we going to stop going through it again for a third time tomorrow?

Miranda: Well we could start off by sitting next to eachother. That'd force us to talk.

Richard: What about Sunday? When are you going home?

MIranda: Just after lunch.

Richard: Well why not travel together up to your place, then I can get a bus home from somewhere. I know it'd be doing two sides of a triangle, but it'll be a laugh.

Miranda: Err, yeah. Why not, look, have you seen the time. I won't be able to talk to you even if we are sitting together if I don't get a little sleep before tomorrow. I'd best go.

Richard: Yes, yes, you are right of course.

Richard kisses and hugs Miranda then she gets up to leave. Just as she opens the door she turns back and waves (with her fingers not her hand) to Richard.

Richard: See ya.

The door closes.

Richard thinks: Get In! (Pronounced in his head very slowly.)
 

H/I 5 Cry for Help
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There are several people including James in a room that takes up about a half of the cross-section of Progen. They're all sat around a table.

Charlie( the leader): Right then, straight onto the next activity. I know you're all starting to get a tad tired, but this is the last physical one.

James: Yeah, but that's just another test to manipulate our hope. Don't believe him!

Couple of titters from the leader.

Charlie: Now I wouldn't do that. Or would I? Steady. Anyroadup, lets just explain this one. You've first got to find the rules which you'll find somewhere on Progen. They're very conspicuous and you won't have to look under anything. You'll find them in the main room of some floor, and you'll only have to poke your head round to see it. Right, just a couple of clues: it's not in navigation, power generation, ag, or in any private rooms. We don't want you going anywhere that you're not welcome, and that rules out most of the top and bottom of Progen. Apart from that, it could be anywhere. Stay in the two teams from the last game. You've all got five minutes thinking time, then I let you out one by one in each group at one minute intervals. You've got fourty five minutes from ...now! And you can't use any lifts or electronic communication.

They split up into the two groups and we focus on James's, like you do like.

Francine: Split Progen up into six and take one part each.

Geoff: How are we going to know when someone's found it?

Harry (a girl?): If we all meet at the same place every five minutes...

Isabel (butting in): It'd take five minutes to get from the top to the middle and back.

James: Well why all meet at the same place? Surely we can do it Chineese whispers style: 'Well I still ain't got now't,' 'bugger me, me neither.' Up and down the length of Progen, meet either the person above or below you.

Kate: You can do a floor between each meeting - smart.

Francine: It'd take too long for everyone to get the message.

James: The first people can start solving the problem whilst everyone else finds out.

Francine: It sounds a bit too complecated really.

James: Yeah, you're right. Lets all run to the top floor, do that, then do the bottom floor next, then the second floor.

Slightly defensive look from Francine, but titters from the others.

James: Or we could even take a floor each from here going up, and when you've looked on that floor you run up past everyone else to the next floor that hasn't been checked. We could get a shish kebab to use as a marker so that everyone knows which the current top floor is, you pick it up and drop it on the next floor, which you check. Where the bloody hell are we going to get a kebab at this hour though?

Francine: Sounds cool.

Geoff: Bangin'.

Show some shots of them hacking around the joint. Use your imagination: kitchens, gyms, pubs (one of them can stop there and have a snifta), couple of people meeting at the stairs. James could quickly hide and trip up one of the opposition for a laugh.
 
 

All James's team at the top level they're doing.

Kate: That's all done up to here.

Geoff: Right, back to where we started and carry on down from there.

James: And I'm not looking forward to the journey home neither!

Running (sweaty gits) down the stairs together.

Harry: I'm sure that wasn't there last time (comic cliche/! Delete if your intended audlience has any intelligence) What the others doing man.

The others have chosen some other manner of searching and communicating. Indicate that it's a fair sight less efficient than ours.

The team are now on their bottom floor, exhausted and short tempered etc. after completing the search.

Francine: Come on then man-machine, where the bloody hell is it.

James: Alright. No, no! I must come clean. I found it in the first room I did, but I thought we'd all loose the point of the exercise if I told you then.

Harry (with belief): You did what?

Isabel: That's not funny, James.

Kate: Maybe there is no clue.

They're all pretty pissed off by now, have a few frames without any talking, just a tense, frustrated and orthopeadic silence. The other team all come rushing onto the floor excitedly togther.

Other team member: Oh aye? Not got it yet poofaces!

Maybe accompany this with a tougue just slipping out of his mouth - nestling like.

Other member 2: Divn't worry. We only really just stumbled on it. Just keep on looking.

They troupe off into the room on the bottom, then back out fairly soon after.

Francine: I suppose we'd just better have another look.

James: Get a grip man. I may be a lot of things to a lot of people, but not stupid is certainly not one of them. Any be that as it may. Doing all that again I'm doing not.

Harry: Old wotsit said to keep looking, why not? They know more about it than we do.

A couple of them stand up and pull James up while the rest of them drag themselves up.

Next you see James (or one of the others) unenthusiastically entering a floor with a very large sheet with 'INSTRUCTIONS' painted on it, obscuring the way just outside the stairs door.

James: How the bloody hell did any git miss that!

He traipses out of the door for a frame whilst the artist having read the next paragraph and being a bit smart, stays looking at the stairs door. Right enough, James turns up right back through the door with one of the others and the remaining five trailing. Before you'd know it they've all been teleported (or at least they would have been if this was a bona fide naff sci-fi comic) into the room next to the other team. Watch them enter the room to orientate your punters if you like. Oh, suit yourself - git.

Francine: we've got two and a half minutes to get these personal ratings done so I'll write them from top down, shout out suggestions. I'll get them done shit 'ot, then we can debate and change them until our time's up. Right, arrogance.

James, Geoff and Isabel all speak together.

Isabel: Fancine.

Geoff: Isabel.

James: Me, me!

Then simply shift the time frame to the closing seconds of the excercise. On the sheets of paper are rankings with all the names of the group arranged under different headings. Invent some headings if you like, like, but James is bottom of physical attractiveness and care and concern, and top for intellegence, arrogance and humour. James should be either towards the top or bottom or each list you invent. Fill the lists as you see fit, but give all other individuals a much more even spread with some rankings in the centre of the lists.

Francine: Any more adjustments?

Kate: I don't think Geoff should be higher than Isabel in attractiveness.

Francine: Swap them?

General agreement. Someone might go as far as to say 'OK' even.

James: Francine has got to be bottom for humour.

She immediately puts her name to the bottom without discussion.

James: Only joking love. Alright?

Geoff: We'd best stop. There's only 20 seconds left.

They all spring to life and run to Charlie in the other room handing him the rankings. The other team's already sat down in the room with Charlie talking amongst themselves.

Charlie (looking at his watch): Thanks, get a seat and sit around the screen.

Charlie then talks to a screen in the background whilst they're getting chairs 'n that.

Charlie: Right then. These are all the rankings from both the groups. (Pointing at the screen.) Any comments?

Nothing. Blank faces. (Take that to extreame if you like, if you like.)

Charlie: Do you think that they're pretty much representative. Are they good rankings?

Short delay.

Francine: Yeah. I reakon ours isn't bad, and theirs doesn't strike me as being particularly wrong.

James thinks: Why does she always talk such rubbish?

Kate: Yeah. Maybe a couple of them have got two adjacent people the wrong way around. But that's subjective. We'd never agree to it. I mean no one has been put right at the top when they should be at the bottom.

Geoff, Isabel, Francine and Harry all actively nod heads etc.

James thinks: What? They can't all really think that can they?

Charlie: Does everyone agree there?

James thinks: Go on say it.

James: They're not that good really.

James thinks: God, where's that lump in my throat come from?

James: I mean, I really don't mind being classed as the arrogant, ugly, future drop out.

Thinks: Oh no. My voice is going croaky. Oh no.

James: But ...

Tears form very quickly in James's eyes and roll down his cheeks in no time.

James: uncaring. I just don't think that's true.

James then sits for a couple of frames looking down at the floor or at the line where the opposite wall meets the ceiling. Not making any eye contact with anyone. He's trying desparately to stop the tears, but lets short bursts of air come from his nose a couple of times. Each outbreak being accompanied with his stomach forcing itself sharply forward for the duration.

Charlie: A sure sign that no one is really sure quite how to take someone is when their rankings are all extreames. High low low high high. (Pointing at the first few sequential rankings on the screen.) We all know that James is a great laugh and that really is a gift. But you won't give him a chance will you.

James thinks: Oh what have you done James. They're all going to feel terrible that I've got like this, they'll blame themselves. Get a grip.

Charlie: Do you not think he's capable of anything except the quick one liner?

Charlie straches his arm out across the room with an open hand towards this lad whose trying to look at him with tears straming down his face. Isabel sitting next to James is trying to 'comfort' him, and James is completely placid. He is exposed and helpless. He would let anyone do anything to him.

Charlie (quite loudly and agressively): This is one serious man.

Dramatic end to the scene and the page no less.
 

H/I 6 Letter Lonely
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Dear Miranda,

Q -> KB3.

I recently had a special 'Personal Development' course to do here. A group of twelve of us within the same sort of age group were chosen at random, and we spent three intensively physical and mentally active days together. Towards the end, one particular activity had me crying amoungst all the rest of them. Ignoring the reasons for my outburst, at the time I felt that I continued crying because I was upset that all the others (who in the three days have become the closest people to me here) thought that I was crying because of their actions.

Anyway up, until then I didn't realize there was any real problem with me here. I thought it all purely transitional. But now I've had to face it. I am lonely. I wish I knew what to do about it. (I've just started to cry again.) I mean if I were to look objectively, none of the people here are any different from those back home. I never had any difficulty getting on with everyone there, so what's happened? As far as I can work out, I was really odd before I started on Progen. I seemed immune to man's basic emotions. I never got really happy or really sad. I never got angry with anyone. Whenever anyone saw me, I was always in the same mood. No one ever got me on an off day. I was a model worker. I had a very childish sort of lust. Now I skive out of some work, and I lust for women now in a way I never did. Not for their beauty, or mind (like with you,) but just purely with a mind to sex. A certain amount of that has been taught me by the society here I'm sure. I can't tolerate people who seem to have taken a disliking to me. In short, I seem to be a fairly normal being now. Don't ask me what I was before.

Finding friends is becoming more than just a stumbling block now. I can't seem to find the inclination really to become anyone's friend. I just think 'well I've got loads of friends, why do I need to have more?' All my friends are on Earth of course and they've organiclly changed and rotated for years, but such an inorganic change as this is so false.

I'm sorry if I seem to be repeating myself, but I really am lonely. Lonelyness is a train moving no faster and no slower than any other train, but never making any stops. One of my cacti on my shelf flowered about a week ago. I just wanted to show it to someone, but I don't feel I know anyone well enough, or anyone who's interested enough to show them to. It was so sad. What's the point of beauty if it can't be shared?

No one wants me on Progen. Everywhere I go I'm in the way. If I died now in my room, no one would notice. They'd never find me. I had my haircut yesterday. I eventually plucked up the courage to face the personal contact. I couldn't keep any of her conversations going. I thought it all so trite. I hated every second of being so close to her. It was so false. I am autistic Miranda. I NEED holding, forever ...

End there with no punctuation or sign off. James sends it as it is.
 

H/I-a 7 Northern Ireland
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Miranda is talking to some geezer on a screen.

Miranda: I'm here with the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Mr Ken Savage, at the latter's celebration of Orange Day. Perhaps you could explain the event to us Prime Minister.

PM: Certainly Miranda. In the times when the Prime Minister and Parliament took a key role in the way that Britain was run, Northern Ireland was ruled from London in England. Ireland, southern Ireland that is, spent a couple of centuries claiming Northern Ireland to be theirs as far as we gather. Because of the fighting, no one would invest in the area, and there was little else for anyone to do but join in the aggression: no real prospects. Back then Orange day was a Northern Irish celebration of a battle where they 'beat' the southerners, but it was essentially more of a focus for aggression rather than a celebration.

The rest of western Europe eventually realized that there were people living there that could contribute actively to their expanding, borderless society. They could both produce and consume, and by giving the Northern Irish jobs and prospects, their troubles are much less likely to continue spilling over periodically into the main society's domain.

So investment started and now it's really a festival celebrating the society that saved Ireland from itself, whilst curing most world evil in one fell swoop!

Miranda: Sounds great, wonder whatever happened to that society!

Titters from both sides of the screen.

Miranda: Seriously though, Orange day has seen the tail end of the feudal system, the democratic system in full, and of course, the social capitalist system. What next?

PM: Heh, heh. (Cackle.) Well I reckon I'm just one of these people that accept the current system as being cast in stone. I suppose all it takes is someone who understands, but doesn't accept the present system and it's short comings. If they've got the vision to see a new system, the time to spend a couple of years considering every aspect of society and seeing how it could and would work, and then not being put off by no one else sharing that vision then why not? It's happened before. Maybe there's someone out there struggling to get his voice heard, driven by the notion that if he doesn't succeed, then society will never understand his ideals and miss out. But I'll be one of the ones who get in his way I'm sure. I think we've still got a lot of milage left out of social capitalism.

Miranda: Whether you know it or not, Britain elected that man: Ken Savage. Britain the only area which technically speaking has all three systems working concurrently. Makes you all nostalgic don't it. If you're celebrating tonight, enjoy yourselves, we've got a biffie here in Belfast. See ya.

Miranda turns ninety degrees and starts to speak to the PM who is sat right next to her at right angles. Just a bit of wit there for the punters, apparently they get better shots if they look straight into the screen.

Miranda: Thanks Ken.

PM: That's alright anytime. You staying tonight then?

Miranda: Nah. Well no one wants to hear that I'm nicking off straight after the interview do they?

PM laughs puzzledly (aka artist/director's nightmare.) PM gets up and leaves.

PM: Enjoy yourself then.

Miranda: Thanks again. You too. James, call me a taxi.

James: Miranda, you're a taxi.

James prints up: 2 mins Social Family 47p

3 mins Quiet 50p

3 mins 30 secs Rave 48p

Miranda laughing: How many of them did James tell you?

James: He said he didn't do any.

Miranda: Oh, you're so stupid James. You should think before you speak. It's pretty cute though. Oh I can't face all those cute kids with cute parents. Book me the quite one and I'll contemplate life and look out the window on the way to the airport. Oh, hang on I'd best get the rave one and try and call Vanessa from it.

Cut to a shot looking from the outside at Miranda looking out of a window. A tenish seater bus pulls up outside. Miranda brings a small bag slung over her shoulder out to the bus, and gets onto the bus booming banging hardcore trax. Leave a small dance area if you like and make the bus bigger cos that'd be really stupid.

Miranda: Hello!

Various omnibus dwellers: Hi etc.

Miranda puts her bag in the storage area and sits down in one of the seats.

Miranda: James. Can you get Vanessa for me please.

Frame.

Vanessa: Hiya Miranda.

Miranda: Wotcha, how you doing?

Venessa: Oh, you know: hangin tough.

Miranda: As ever. Just phoning to say I'm on my way. Should be about an hour 'n a half.

Vanessa: OK. Fiona'll be round just before and we'll hit town with some of my mates. What are you doin on the way?

Miranda: Can you not tell? This is a rave bus. If they play a decent track I might boogy if anyone else does. We'll see. Nearly caught a pseudo sociable one.

Vanessa: I didn't think they were still going?

Miranda: Neither did I. But I'll tell you wot, come here, I had to wait an extra minute and a half. Of course being such an active belle you should be thankful that I'm not changing somone's nappy, or colostmy bag by now.

Vanessa: Fancy.

Miranda: Well you've got to keep taking rave busses to try and pretend you're not old.

Vanessa: Yeah, maybe. Well, see ya later. I'll get something on for you.

Miranda: You starkers?

Vanessa: Titter, titter. See ya.

Miranda: Cheers.
 

H/I-a 8 Jez
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Miranda and Jez are (tanked up) boogying away in a small basement dancy bit of a bar. Vanessa is there too, attempting to tap off with some smart drunk. In the middle of the record Jez makes a move on Miranda. At first drawing her close with his hands on her shoulders, then having a good old snog whilst in deep embrace. Everyone else around is still getting on down except Vanessa avec blurk who are lookin on from a distance with interest. After several frames of pure lust from the young uns. They part and continue dancing.

Cut to a them snogging on a bus. Jez is sat ontop of Miranda with Vanessa sat right next to them with the whole crowded bus completely off their faces.

Cut to a shot of a dairy farm (cows asleep outside.) Go inside where Miranda and Vanessa, their respectives, and another bird (five in total) are sat around the fire nattering and setting out a board game.

Jez: Right. Who wants coffee?

Everyone says yes or some varient thereof, except Vanessa who puts her hand up. The two blokes leave to make some non alcholic beverage to give their livers a rest. The two other birds look straight at Miranda as soon as they've left. Miranda pauses.

Miranda: Jez is a bit of alright isn't he?

Vanessa: Cute ass.

Bird: I couldn't believe it. One minute you're talking about water quality. The next you're doing his dentistry.

Miranda (smiling): Well, men just find me irresistable. Tee hee. You reckon he'll go out with me?

Vanessa: He's not been getting on too well with his girlfriend recently, reckon he's after splitting up with her.

Miranda: Who is she?

Vanessa: Just someone who he used to work with. They've been goin out for about two years now. I think they've outlived their time together. He never says anything nice about her anymore.

Miranda: So you think he likes me?

Vanessa: Get a grip. This is the first time you've put eachother down all evening.

Miranda: Not pull then Heidi? Old torque wrench was after you.

Heidi: Oh bloody hell. I didn't see you rushing to my assistance. Look after No. 1 eh?

Marginal titters.

Heidi: I think this was a case where the needs of the few, out weighed the wants of the many. Well that's what I purrit down to any road.

Jez comes back in.

Jez: I'm afraid you're all going to have to have it black cos, wait for it, we're out of milk!

People fall about laughing.

Cut.
 

H/I-a9 Fashion letter
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Thanks for your letter, I'm sorry to hear that you're not making friends as easily as you used to. It's true that the process gets slower as you get older. I think it's fairly well documented that people who 'get on' with everyone in a very short space of time tend to be rather shallow, and the people that one enjoys the company of are, on the whole, the ones who are shyer to start off with. Hopefully the situation will be alot better by the time you get this letter. Because of the ever increasing delay between my replys to your letters, the best advice I can give you if it hasn't all sorted itself out, is to speak to someone on Progen about it. There are trained social police or whatever the equivalent there is called (I checked.) You'll probably feel the same way about them as I did - that it's really for a different (lower?) class of person. Soon after you left me I was faced with the same question. I told myself to stop being so stuck up and at least give them a chance. [ Miranda thinks: you lying get.] I would urge you to do the same. You'll be surprised how helpful you find them. They're not pushy, they go with you in your own direction, and at your own speed. You don't realize that they're doing anything, but they do gradually steer you and before you know it you've started to sort yourself out. Anyway, as I say, hopefully you'll not need to take my little snippet of advice, or maybe you'll have thought of it already.

Not much is happenening here really, you know nothing really changes. Bought a smart pair of black and white strippy leggins. They're really cool. There's something about them that's really feminine. I suppose the edges of the stripes show off the curves of my hips and legs well. I've not got bad legs you know, might as well show them off, who knows what might happen to them!

I don't blow my trumpet very often, and writing it to you hardly constitutes arrogance - I mean, there's no serious comeback. No, fashion's great isn't it? There's so many different fashions for people of slightly different ages, who like different music. You see no end of people walking down the High Street, all wearing completely different clothes, and all of them really cool. It's just great.

When I remember, I try to walk with really big agressive, confident strides with my huge boots on. Just like all the 'Throbe Girls' do, it's great. I wish I was one of them. Well I suppose I am really, I mean what makes you one of them? I wear the same clothes, walk the same (sometimes) and listen to the same stuff some of the time. I just don't feel like I think they all feel, but I suppose they all think that!

You know those little pearls of wisdom that James comes out with every now and then. Well one of them was about fashion. Apparently, when both music and fashion were well established and cultural amongst Britain's youth, the rest of Europe (especially France) had only one accepted fashion, and almost everyone conformed. Troups and troups of them all looking the same. The funny thing was that for some unknown (to us) reason, popular opinion even in Britain was that the French inparticular had impecable fashion sense! Bizzare.

Anyway, with the now familiar signoff: N, QB3 -> QN5, I'll be off.

Lots of love,

Miranda xx

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