Golden Stoneearliest post first | most recent post first
The barometric pressure is falling! The wind is picking up! Is a storm headed this way? Tune in tonight at 10 to find out! Catch me, the Weather Witch, on channel 13, for all the latest reports.
Flying an airship is dangerous work, especially over the poles, and somebody on the Golden Stone has got to keep track of the weather--or spice it up when things get dull. You can usually find me in my lab--the glass bubble mounted in the tail of the ship. But when it's time to command the storm, you'll see me climb to the very top of the hull, exposed to all the elements, the wind in my hair and the lightning flowing through my bones!
With such a big crew, the HR department on the Golden Stone needs to stay frosty. I've been called cold, but that makes me ideal for the ship's Human Resource Manager! I oversee recruiting, interviewing, and hiring of new staff, and make sure we've got the coolest crew around. Put an ice-cream dispenser in the break room! Air hockey tables and ice-skating rinks! I may be frigid, but a chill crew is a happy crew. Brrrrrrrrr......
With all the snow and ice on the Golden Stone, the best way to get around is by dog sled. And for that you’ll need me: the Musher! I’ve got packs of malamutes and huskies, and together we can drive my rig anywhere on the ship, including the galley, the skating rink, the luge track, and the curling alleys! My dogs know this ship like the bottom of their paws, and they mark their territory with their own kind of gold.
Sometimes the Golden Stone needs to find its own gold, and that's where I come in. I'm the gold digger! And boy do I dig gold. In the cold! The boys and I take the shovels out when we hit the frozen tundra and that's when we start breaking up the permafrost. Sometimes we pour our coffee on to loosen it up a bit, and sometimes we find more than we bargain for--in the form of ancient spirits who don't like to be woke up! Hey! Get those engines started! We got our gold and we better run--before that long haired, three-eyed mud woman catches up with us!
The Golden Stone ships gold in our refrigerated vaults, and I'm the one who keeps track of it all: Noelle Hoarfrost, Icy Accountant. You can see my breath as I count it down, just like in a 7-11. One! Two! Three! I keep warm and cozy in my accountant winter wear, my furry parka hood tied up tight around my face, but my mittens are slippery and oh how it hurts when I drop those ingots on my toes!
The Golden Stone needs to land on ice. Great inland seas, frozen rivers, swimming pools of the stars. When we come down for a landing, it's my silver blades that keep the ship's path true. I'm in charge of the team that keeps our landing blades sharp, shooting sparks and ice the length of a football field, and slowly coming to rest by the ice-fishing pools and desalination facilities. We take up water in its liquid form, and create our hydrogen from electrolysis. But we'd never break through the ice if it weren't for my sharp steel.
Do you want to know the secret of how the Golden Stone navigates the icy air? Our propellers are snowflakes, and I’m the one who makes them.
I take my snowflake wand and place it in the snowflake sauce and blow and blow and blow till my cheeks puff out and my face turns red and out comes a perfectly formed propeller, no two alike.
I like my mice on ice, which is why I'm ship's cat on the Golden Stone. I like to stay curled up in the Captain's bunk 23 hours a day, but when it's time to stretch my legs I remove the rodents from the vaults. Rats from Reykjavik! Mice from Minsk! Only the heartiest of rodents dare take up on the Golden Stone, due to the cool climate we keep. Mice in mufflers! Mice in mittens! Mice in big furry hats. I've gained quite a respect for these cold critters, Siberian snow dwellers and Antarctic adventurers one and all. I try and find them safe passage thru to the cold climes, these stalwart little stowaways. Plus, I've learned the sting of their tiny harpoons the hard way.
I'm the Communications Officer, and I keep the Golden Stone in touch with all the other ships in the air and bases on the ground. We use Morse Code, because it's so co-co-cold on the ship all the time that we can't keep from chattering! My knees are knocking and my fingers are snapping as I tap tap tap that Morse Code out on the frozen ice-skull clacker with the ice-teeth chatter. Give me a ring and I'll tell you how cool we are!
As custodian on the Golden Stone, I do the mopping when the ice begins to melt. I tell them "keep those doors shut or the ice is gonna melt!" but do they listen? Nah. Nobody can sit still these days, always opening doors and walking through them. "You'll let the draft out!" I cry. "Mr. Northwind can't blow all day AND all night! Give him a breather!"
But I swear the worst of it is the hot breath of our clients, coming in to pant over their gold. "Look at my gold! PANT PANT PANT" and the ice shelves and ice safes we've got the gold in just melts away, and they call in ol' Filbert Ringtoss Sr. to mop up the mess. And I've got to mop it up fast before Mr. Northwind DOES come by and turns it all into an ice rink!