Post by spanishspy on Oct 22, 2020 7:34:03 GMT
Preface: This story shares the outline of the universe that my other story When the New World is Revealed has at its setting. Like that one, it was inspired by a song; I think as I move forward with this universe (which was originally designed for a tabletop RPG that I've never actually run) I'll have every story set in it have musical inspiration; I already have a third one bouncing about.
As with the last story, first person to guess the song gets a free internet cookie.
Firstly, I would like to thank the engineers at the Security Service for applying the new vocabulary modules to me. I may now describe what I have seen in much further detail.
I was manufactured in 1967 in an IBM plant in San Jose, California. I was then shipped as part of a deal between IBM and the Ford Motor Company to a plant in Detroit, where I was installed on a Ford Geronimo and then shipped to a dealership in Dublin later that year. I was purchased by Doctor Cedric Johnson of Civil Defence Ireland to be used as a rapid response vehicle in the case of Soviet or IRA violence.
Doctor Johnson, among many other Civil Defence doctors, was deployed with flying cars to engage in emergency response efforts in County Donegal. Soviet submarines stationed in Lough Swilly fired missiles filled with mustard gas at the American naval base in Letterkenny. As is standard procedure, these missiles were fired in such a manner to cover the surrounding area in gas.
I received a signal from the emergency response unit encoded in the television of a widow living in Glenaquin. Being a state of emergency, the device in the television was allowed to report that the widower was suffocating due to the gas [Security Officer’s note: Ireland has been under a state of emergency for the past twenty-three years]. My sensors did not indicate the presence of any widower in front of the television in the footage we received, but protocol dictated that we had to respond to the situation. Doctor Johnson broke us off from the medical convoy en route to Letterkenny and flew to Glenaquin.
He landed me in front of the house; the emergency response unit let him know the location. In the air, he had put on a gas mask. He left me and entered the house.
I could not see what had happened, but I heard gunshots from inside the house. Two people left the house and unlocked my doors; they seemed to have acquired Doctor Johnson’s keys.
Doctor Johnson did not leave the house so far as I am aware.
These two, whose names I deduced to be Patrick and Saoirse, immediately took me away from Glenaquin and brought me over the border to County Tyrone, where I was made to serve a revanchist branch of the Irish Republican Army.
They drove me by a police station in Fermanagh. I heard a lot of machine gun fire, and then they drove off. There were the sounds of police sirens, but they eventually faded.
It was like this for many months. There was a time they used me to shoot up a Protestant bar. I heard many screams.
Sometimes they would simply drive slowly by the British troops in Londonderry or Belfast and sing ribald songs about them. About half the time they’d shoot at us; once they shot a rocket at me and I barely survived [Security Officer’s note: there is no evidence of any violence by British troops in Northern Ireland as a result of songs sung in their presence].
They escalated to using me as a delivery for bombs; they used that to attack more bars and restaurants in the Protestant segments of Belfast as well as against the Royal Ulster Constabulary.
Eventually they decided to bring me to England for their operations there. I was used to carry a rocket launcher to attack the tanks deployed at the unrest in Birmingham, and once again at the one in the coal mines in Yorkshire. I was used to bring militants to the IRA unrest in Liverpool.
Eventually it was decided by the IRA group which used me to have me used for the attack on the Palace of Westminster. They loaded me up with explosives in an abandoned warehouse in the East End, and from there they drove me through the sky lanes over London to the palace.
The driver, still the Patrick who stole me in Glenaquin, jumped out of me; I do not know if he had a parachute.
I was thrown out of the car as the explosives detonated. The roof of the Palace crashed down above me.
Three hours and twenty minutes later, one of you pried me out of the car and brought me here.
[Security Officer’s Note: The automotive surveillance unit that provided this transcript was extracted in full accordance with the Security Act 1949 and the United Nations Treaty on Intelligence Sharing of 1951.]
As with the last story, first person to guess the song gets a free internet cookie.
London, 1968
Firstly, I would like to thank the engineers at the Security Service for applying the new vocabulary modules to me. I may now describe what I have seen in much further detail.
I was manufactured in 1967 in an IBM plant in San Jose, California. I was then shipped as part of a deal between IBM and the Ford Motor Company to a plant in Detroit, where I was installed on a Ford Geronimo and then shipped to a dealership in Dublin later that year. I was purchased by Doctor Cedric Johnson of Civil Defence Ireland to be used as a rapid response vehicle in the case of Soviet or IRA violence.
Doctor Johnson, among many other Civil Defence doctors, was deployed with flying cars to engage in emergency response efforts in County Donegal. Soviet submarines stationed in Lough Swilly fired missiles filled with mustard gas at the American naval base in Letterkenny. As is standard procedure, these missiles were fired in such a manner to cover the surrounding area in gas.
I received a signal from the emergency response unit encoded in the television of a widow living in Glenaquin. Being a state of emergency, the device in the television was allowed to report that the widower was suffocating due to the gas [Security Officer’s note: Ireland has been under a state of emergency for the past twenty-three years]. My sensors did not indicate the presence of any widower in front of the television in the footage we received, but protocol dictated that we had to respond to the situation. Doctor Johnson broke us off from the medical convoy en route to Letterkenny and flew to Glenaquin.
He landed me in front of the house; the emergency response unit let him know the location. In the air, he had put on a gas mask. He left me and entered the house.
I could not see what had happened, but I heard gunshots from inside the house. Two people left the house and unlocked my doors; they seemed to have acquired Doctor Johnson’s keys.
Doctor Johnson did not leave the house so far as I am aware.
These two, whose names I deduced to be Patrick and Saoirse, immediately took me away from Glenaquin and brought me over the border to County Tyrone, where I was made to serve a revanchist branch of the Irish Republican Army.
They drove me by a police station in Fermanagh. I heard a lot of machine gun fire, and then they drove off. There were the sounds of police sirens, but they eventually faded.
It was like this for many months. There was a time they used me to shoot up a Protestant bar. I heard many screams.
Sometimes they would simply drive slowly by the British troops in Londonderry or Belfast and sing ribald songs about them. About half the time they’d shoot at us; once they shot a rocket at me and I barely survived [Security Officer’s note: there is no evidence of any violence by British troops in Northern Ireland as a result of songs sung in their presence].
They escalated to using me as a delivery for bombs; they used that to attack more bars and restaurants in the Protestant segments of Belfast as well as against the Royal Ulster Constabulary.
Eventually they decided to bring me to England for their operations there. I was used to carry a rocket launcher to attack the tanks deployed at the unrest in Birmingham, and once again at the one in the coal mines in Yorkshire. I was used to bring militants to the IRA unrest in Liverpool.
Eventually it was decided by the IRA group which used me to have me used for the attack on the Palace of Westminster. They loaded me up with explosives in an abandoned warehouse in the East End, and from there they drove me through the sky lanes over London to the palace.
The driver, still the Patrick who stole me in Glenaquin, jumped out of me; I do not know if he had a parachute.
I was thrown out of the car as the explosives detonated. The roof of the Palace crashed down above me.
Three hours and twenty minutes later, one of you pried me out of the car and brought me here.
[Security Officer’s Note: The automotive surveillance unit that provided this transcript was extracted in full accordance with the Security Act 1949 and the United Nations Treaty on Intelligence Sharing of 1951.]