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Keeping your gold on ice and your bankroll looking nice--that's the kind of thing I make up all day long as head of the Golden Stone's marketing and PR efforts! Who needs to be advertised to? People with GOLD, who want to keep it COLD! That's right, I can see your golden statue of the little peeing boy starting to crack right in half in this heat. We're happy to send out a representative for a free appraisal now on just how little it would take to keep that little guy safe! Put him in our refrigerated vaults and we'll keep him chill, with none of those embarrassing hairline cracks you see at parties. All your gold! Your rings and your watches, your utensils and your plates, your gold card and your marigolds, your potatoes and your dates! Put it all inside this velvet bag, ladies and gentlemen, and you can trust us to keep it cool.
Did you know that all the gold we have on this planet was created in the explosions of dying suns? The temperatures and conditions to create it don't occur on the Earth--only in supernovae, which is the only place it happens. It's stars where the gold comes from, and it's the stars I use to chart the course of the Golden Stone, because I'm Varna Johnson, Ship's Navigator!
Sure, we've got maps and radar and dead reckoning charts, but on a clear night I climb up on top of the ship, rope myself on, and pull out my trusty sextant to chart our course. Someday you will find me caught beneath the landslide, but until then I'll make sure the Golden Stone gets where it needs to go by the power of starlight, and the formidable power of the universe itself.
The clients of the Golden Stone trust us to keep their gold safe, and not ask questions. They need someone with a cool attitude--like me: Clem Krinkle, Ship's Detective. I keep their gold on ice, and frost out the nosy punks who come sniffing around. You gotta keep the temperature low or the place gets hot, and I don't approve of the use of heaters.
Snow cones! Baked Alaska! Frosted Flakes! The crew of the Golden Stone needs to eat, and I'm the chef that puts the food in front of them. Cold as it is, the crew needs to burn the calories, so I've got to keep them fed. And feed them fat! To burn! Sometimes it's just straight up lard, scooped into a cone, its greasy white goodness dripping down the sides. Eat it up, you mushers! And be glad that when we do have ice cream, it isn't just cold mashed potatoes like we used in the movie.
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.