There has been a lot of behind-the-scenes activity on the Curveball serial. Some of it has been for Issue 26, which I need to finish up... er... very soon, but a lot more of it has been for Issues 1-24.
I'm working on collecting Issues 13-24 into a Curveball Year Two book. Part of that was getting them actually edited, and I figured that while I was at it I might as well get Issues 1-12 edited, and re-issue Curveball Year One with all-new, cleaned-up text.
This is a pretty minor thing, all considered, and if I were to just move on and keep it in the past there's a good chance it would be forgotten and done with. But the way we handle the big stuff is usually based on the way we live our lives day to day, and I'm not happy with something I did today, and I feel I owe the person I did it to an apology that is at least as public, if not more so, than what I did. Which is what this post is all about.
“I'd like to thank you all for joining us tonight. Tonight is a very special night for us on The Hotseat, for tonight we are joined—rejoined, really—by a man who was a guest on our program in the very early days of our broadcast. He has agreed to appear tonight as our guest, and does so fully understanding—indeed, having experienced firsthand—our format and expectations. I'm your host, Jacob Lynn, and I'd like introduce you—again—to our guest: Senator Tobias Morgan, welcome back to The Hotseat.”
The studio audience applauds warmly, and Senator Morgan dips his head in acknowledgment. He still carries a strong resemblance to his grandfather: his hair is dark (a trait from his mother's side), and he doesn't have a Project Paragon-enhanced physique, but he has the same jawline, and when he talks he radiates the same dedication and resolve. When he talks, some people say they can almost hear Liberty talking in his place. The comparison is all the more bittersweet now that his grandfather is dead.
They stand on the tarmac of a small but undeniably modern airport, squinting as their eyes adjust from the dim light in the cargo plane to the bright sun shining overhead. Off in the distance they can see a cluster of buildings bearing the logo of the Thorpe Technical Institute—formerly the R&D branch of Thorpe Industries, now a wholly independent entity in its own right. On the other side of the airport is a beach with white sparkling sand. Off in another direction—CB can't tell North from West from East out here—looks to be a small forest, and beyond that there's even a mountain.
“It doesn't look like a fake island,” CB says.
“It's not fake,” Roger says. “We are actually surrounded by water on all four sides. It's artificial. There's a difference.”