"Well, good evening and hello again, world.
"For you, it's been just over a day since my last vlog. For me, it's felt like a month, and not just because I've spent most of it in fast-time. Even faster-time than I can run myself at, on the hardware I own. Let me see if I can go over everything in order.
"Just before my last vlog, Janine AKA Rave AKA Leatherpants got in touch with my old girlfriend, the one with the email address FazBaz. Neither was willing to tell me what they talked about, but Faz wanted to reconnect a bit, even if I am going away for another year.
"Right, right, Francesca, I was getting to that. Faz and I met in college, in a pregnancy support group. We were both making some extra cash by working as surrogate mothers. A surprising number of people hire surrogates, up here in Insulo Tri; maybe the mom doesn't want to be weighted down, or maybe there's medical complications, or maybe she spends a lot of time outside the colony and doesn't want to expose the sproglet to that many cosmic rays. I did have to give up a lot of my physical privacy, but at least it was just to the parents, not to the world as a whole. And I did pick up a lot of healthy-living habits that I've kept up.
"Faz... is her own woman. Without sharing anything either of us wouldn't want to make public, she's enmeshed a lot more deeply in the furry affinity group than I've ever been; one of her favorite practical jokes is to arrange to convince somebody she's a regular, non-sapient nanny-goat. She's also a top-notch database programmer and in certain ways is a lot more socially conservative than you might expect from someone with her level of biomods. After I got my mate's certificate and started working, and she was spending another couple of years in class, we kinda spent less and less time together. We've spent... more time, the last day and change.
"Poker night was... weird. Hal, Oscar, and Leatherpants demanded that I not only play the best poker I could, but cheat as hard as I could without getting caught. Is it really cheating if doing so is explicitly part of the game? We started penny-ante, while it took me a few hands to get used to that mode of play. After we got to the serious betting, I... broke even, over the night. I was doing things that would get me banned for life, and probably criminally charged, if I tried in a casino... and I'm pretty sure they were doing the same level of things, even if I couldn't figure out any particulars. It was... fun, actually. We'll be doing it again when I'm back in town... and I have a few ideas on new things to try, once I have time to make preparations. Like putting a Faraday cage around the room to see if that stymies them in any way.
"A few hours before that, yesterday, I went back to arguing with bureaucrats, and when one - I'm not going to name names - insisted that it would take at least a month just for a particular one of my appeals to start to be considered, I got fed up and hired a specialist. I thought I was just hiring a lawyer, but she quickly educated me about the fine distinctions to be made in various sorts of the legal professions. She asked me enough to figure out what my goals are, and what limits I'm willing to go to get them. For instance, I'm willing to go into fast-time to handle problems, but only to the extent that my therapist is comfortable with; and I'm very reluctant to transfer my mindstate to computers controlled by somebody else, if I can help it. When she had all that info, she... well, she knew exactly how to cut through all the red tape. Which regulations can be used to cancel out which others, which ones are loose enough to be given the interpretation of choice by which member of the civil service, even just how to save a couple of euros on a few filing fees. If you're wondering why I'm not just naming her, I was put in touch with her through the friend-of-a-friend network; she feels that if you need to get in contact with her sort of lawyer, a good first filter is that you're willing to go to the effort of actively looking.
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"Trying to interpret the mindset of an organization that's gotten at least a century more complicated than the one that was satirized in 'Yes, Minister' is an obvious exercise in futility, but also one that I can't help trying. Emphasizing that this is purely my subjective impression of the overall situation, and in no way is meant to be libelous or slanderous accusations at any particular individuals... it appears that some of my 'cultural holdovers' as an 'immigrant from a primitive, foreign nation' really stick up the craw of the bureaucracy as a whole. Sure, there are a few carve-outs for intentional communities such as Mennonites, but groups like that and the paper-pushers have had a long time to get used to each other, and to adapt to each other's quirks; and I, well, haven't.
"So, to minimize the delay before I could make my next launch attempt, I've been spending the last month - a day and a half, objective time - taking what feels like every test, exam, questionnaire, and plain old survey that there's even the faintest chance I could pass. And, on Cee's orders, I spent the night in slow-time... and Faz just texted me to insist I mention that I've been crashing at her place, not in some impersonal motel. ... Yes, Faz, you're right, I did just get a question from a viewer asking if you live in a stable. No, viewer, she has a regular house, she only has one play-room that's decorated in a stable theme. And yes, she's a good enough programmer that she makes enough more money than I do that she can afford an actual house, instead of sharing an apartment.
"Anyway, back to the tests. For at least the next year, I am fully licensed and certified as an engineer for Pumpkin's class of ship. And as a waitron for any shipboard passengers. And as a paramedic. And a swimming instructor. And a flight instructor. And a private investigator. And a hairdresser. And an inspector of homes for black mould or dry rot. I now have a shoebox full of officially-printed and -stamped documents saying I'm allowed to do a bunch of things, a collection that I plan on leaving in my office safe.
"I also received, unofficially, another collection: a variety of warnings that could be summed up as 'now don't do it again, you naughty person you'. Which is going to be interesting to try, given how many tests would still need to be proctored, and that I'm going to be spending at least half of the next year at least a light-day out. The regulations seem to assume that if you're not heading out to another star light-years distant, you're going to be no further than a few light-minutes; at worst a few light-hours out if you're going to Neptune or Pluto.
"Still. That's all over with, for now. At least until I get back and get to figure out how to best fulfill my values within all the regulations, if I'm not so worried about financial penalties if I take too long before I launch. Maybe I'll just refuse the tests and actually go through the full official appeal process. I mean, I don't plan on having anyone pay me to style their hair or fur, so why should I bother keeping up a certification that says I know how? Or whatever else I read, watch, practice, and study on my own time, for my own benefit or my own enjoyment? ... No, I'm not going to debate the topic on this live-vlog.
"I am pseudo-officially taking the next twenty-four hours off. There are a number of reasons that I don't take that much fast-time in that little real-time, when I can help it. I am going to do nothing more serious than coming up with ways to relax, to play, to catch up with an old friend some more, and otherwise goof off. And I'm not going to vlog a single second of it.
"So, until launch day take two, auf Wiedersehen, world!"