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Jim Calhoun's AskMe.nt Account

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The live feed opens to a view of a grey room, appearing to be some sort of office. A bookcase sits back against a wall, and some various certificates, awards, and photos hang on the wall. It appears as though the computer from which the feed is broadcasting from is sitting atop an oak desk, as hints of such can be seen at the bottom of the screen, which slightly betrays the surface of the oak desk as well as a black office chair. A pack of Dromedary Cigarettes, a white paper napkin folded into a neat square, and a bronze ashtray also sit atop the desk. The room seems to be devoid of life, no signs of the occupant.

A sound is heard, a door being opened. Into view walks Jim Calhoun, dressed in a long-sleeved grey shirt and a pair of blue jeans. In his right hand is a glass tumbler filled with an amber liquid and 3 ice cubes, while a bottle of Uncle Git is clenched in his left. Placing the bottle on the desk, his left hand pulls the chair out, and Jim takes his seat. He then sets the glass down on the napkin and goes for the soft pack of cigarettes, producing a single cancer stick that he places in his mouth. His left hand goes for his pocket, producing a Zippo lighter, which he then flicks open in a manner that seems almost second nature. Without pause, the orange flame of the lighter is raised to the end of the cigarette, burning the processed combination of nicotine, tobacco, and other harmful substances. Smoke slowly rises from the cigarette, as the end glows red-hot with Jim taking a drag.

Jim sets the lighter down, keeping the cigarette in his mouth as his hazel eyes drift to the computer. If one is observing closely, they can see a slight increase in the wideness of his eyes, likely at acknowledgement over the surprisingly fast speed of the connection to AskMe.nt. His right hand removes the cigarette, setting it down in the ash tray. He looks towards the screen, and gives a brief smile before speaking, his voice carrying the distinct drawl of the American South, but with enough of a neutral American dialect that keeps him from sounding like a complete hick.

"Howdy, folks," he begins, his voice carrying a welcome tone. "Welcome to my AskMe.nt account, and thank you for taking the time to check it out. For those of you who are not familiar with me, my name is Jim Calhoun. I work as a Security Officer aboard the NSS Aurora. I'm 39-years-old, and I am from Charlotte, North Carolina, back on Earth. I served in the military prior to working for NanoTrasen, for whom I have been serving with in both the Fleet Security Force and the Internal Security Department."

Jim takes a brief pause to take a sip of his whiskey. 'Sip' is a loose term, because Jim manages to finish off the tumbler of whiskey with a single, long sip. He sets the glass back down, and turns back to the screen.

"Let's get down to brass tacks. This site is for asking questions, and that's why I am here right now. I am more than happy to answer any questions that you might have, be they about me, about the Security Department aboard the Aurora. Feel free to ask for advice as well, for anything from legal help to picking out the right liquor."

Jim leans back in his chair, his eyes locked to the screen as his left hand goes for the bottle, his right twisting the top off. He then refills the tumbler, before moving the bottle back to the side. His right then goes for the cigarette, bringing it up to his lips as he slowly inhales the noxious chemicals, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

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  • 3 weeks later...

An anonymous question, though surely the website's administrators could find out who it was.

"Why did you set the camera to start before you entered the room? Did you want us to see the stuff behind you?"

Another question pops up.

"Which do you think is more important - enforcing internal order or defending from outside threats?"

The same source reveals another question.

"Do you think you have an obligation to die, in order to save someone else's life? What if it's not security related?"

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Jim slowly sips his whiskey as 3 new questions pop up, one after the next. Observing his eyes, you can see that they are reading the question, with their owner being silent as he patiently takes his time.

"Well, let's go down the line here, right? For that first question, I set the feed up and left while it was still buffering. My net connection is ok, though sometimes some of my neighbors are downloading terrabytes of porn at a time, which fucks with the entire building. A lot of perverts live around me."

"As for the second, how can one be more important that the other? Nothing can be black and white anymore if you wish to succeed in sufficiently protecting a location; if you bolster your defenses on the outside but don't give a damn about internal security, then you're fucked on that account. Give too many shits about internal security and not enough by what's on the outside? You're asking for a pirate crew to come in and fuck you up. In order yo protect a station, you have to allocate sufficient personnel and resources to both tasks, and to do that you have to study the threats in your area, as well as the demographics and society of your location. You cannot coddle one threat and ignore the other."

At the last question, Jim gives a smirk, followed up by a puff of his cigarette.

"I'd have to go with yes, on this one. I could waste your time with all of this 'sheepdog guarding the sheep from the wolves' and all of that other cop-and-soldier talk, but honestly? I'm 39, I've got a failed marriage and a son that hates me, but I've still been able to do some fun shit in my time, enough for me to realize that I've already lived a rich life. It's not suicidal thinking that'd put me between a mark and a bullet, but rather, it's the right thing to do. If you've got any training or any dignity, then you should protect the life of your fellow person, be they human, Tajaran, Vaurca; whatever they are."

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  • 1 month later...

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