Inbox [cerealia]

[cardboard_journalism]

"Sss, sss, sss.

You've reached the desk of Myriam Scuttlebutt.

If you're calling to submit a story to the Cerealia Times, please press 1.

If you're calling to inquire about employment with the Cerealia Times, please press 2.

If you're calling to make a complaint about a story in the Cerealia Times, you are free to hang up. Complaints will only be accepted as submitted letters to the editor, delivered in physical form.

If you're calling for any other reason, please leave a message after the beep."

[boop]

[if 1 is pressed]

"You've reached the extension for submitting a story to the Cerealia Times. Please describe your story after the beep. For reference, please include your name and contact information. You may also make your tip anonymously, or ask for anonymity. As a source, your anonymity is protected by law, and will not be revealed without your express permission.

Kahk-kahk... Keep in mind, you cannot be financially compensated for information you provide, for reason of journalistic ethics. ...no, really, journalists aren't supposed to do that."

[boop]

[if 2 is pressed]

"The Cerealia Times is in need of correspondents, reporters, photojournalists, and delivery personnel.

Correspondent: you are expected to respond to stories that break out in an assigned section of Cerealia, report the information at the scene, interview witnesses, and supply written stories. Mild literacy is required.

Reporters: you are expected to actively pursue assigned stories and conduct related interviews in a timely manner. Mild interpersonal skills a plus, but not essential. With approval, you will be free to investigate your own stories.

Photojournalists: you are expected to record newsworthy events on film. This may require taking shots under suboptimal conditions.

Delivery personnel: you are expected to transport, unload, and fold bundles of newspaper around Cerealia.

All of these jobs take long hours and are very demanding... but they're worth it. --Except for the delivery job, that's just busywork. Sss, sss!

Leave your contact information, desired post, and brief description of your experience, if any!"

[boop]

[action thread continuations can go here too!]

Comments

[capforthat]

[Oh, but they thrive on conflict... although, to be honest, Bulma would prefer to avoid it in this instance. She leans forward, lifting her eyebrows.]

Believe me, if you think you have a way to settle this without ruffling any feathers I'm all ears.

[cardboard_journalism]

All right, option number one...

I simply don't print anything more about Saiyans in the newspaper anymore. If Jaco feeds me anything else, I shut him down. This gives Prince Vegeta the last word, and the collective readership will probably forget about it in a week or so.

--Of course, that will fall apart if your husband happens to do something genuinely newsworthy. Like, say, get into a fight in a public place with lots of eyewitnesses. Or destroy the world. Either/or. Kahk kahk kahk.

Option two: the source of the article was Jaco with a public statement. If we can get Vegeta and Jaco to meet, without Vegeta stepping on him like a roach, then Jaco himself can see how not-evil Vegeta is. They can pose for a nice picture, and it gives the public a good story about how two enemies in their own galaxy can find common ground in Cerealia-- possibly united in common mutual-animosity against CERES. I get a nice narrative for my paper, your husband can have an image of himself as a villain generously tolerating an enemy in extreme circumstances, you get to wrap a bow on the episode and call it 'done' without having to worry about "the Saiyan Menace" anymore.

[Until the next guy, probably.]

[capforthat]

[Bulma listens attentively, nodding along--at least, until that second option is outlined. She freezes, eyes going wide.

Then she blinks, once, twice.

...and then she laughs, genuinely amused by the idea of her husband and Jaco playing nice for the camera.]

Ahaha... heh... l-let's go with option one. [There's still a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.] I'm surprised you're willing to let the story go. Thank you for that.

[cardboard_journalism]

... [seeing Bulma's reaction, she'll laugh along with her, even]

Wow, that bad, huh? Sss, sss, sss!

[she calms herself]

Well, your husband gave... a very explosive response! I'm not sure what I went into our talk expecting to hear from him regarding Jaco's statements, but it wasn't that!

--But, yeah, it's not particularly newsworthy in itself. Present actions are news, not past prejudices.

[capforthat]

[Explosive, huh? Yep. Sounds like Vegeta. She grins, resting her chin on her palm and looking far more relaxed than she did when they first sat down.]

I'm glad to hear you think that way. I'll just have to make sure there's nothing worth printing in the future. [Easier said than done.]

[cardboard_journalism]

[she'd definitely pick up on that. Phew! Scuttlebutt was off the hook, again]

Well, let's not waste the trip out here! Sss, sss. Let's get something to drink and chat a little bit.

--If you don't have another appointment to get to, Bulma. --Can I call you Bulma?

[capforthat]

[Chat? Well, she can never have too many friends. She might learn something useful about the colony, too... Miss Scuttlebutt must be well connected to be able to run a newspaper, right?]

Yes, please! I'm not old enough to be "Mrs. Briefs" yet. [...yes she is. A woman can dream.] ... do you mind if I ask you about the box, Myriam?

[cardboard_journalism]

[there were many people with opinions about Scuttlebutt, it was true]

I see... your curiosity about the box grows stronger. Sss, sss, sss!

Y'see, I'm not just the editor, I'm also a reporter. And I'm not just a reporter, I'm an undercover reporter! This box protects my identity. With it, I am one with the shadows. Observing everything, missing nothing. The inside of this box is like a black hole... from which no scoop escapes!

[capforthat]

[...]

No scoop, huh.

[Her confusion melts away and she snaps her fingers, understanding making her smile.]

Oh, I get it! It's like a mobile hiding place, right? No one suspects a box!

[cardboard_journalism]

Kahk kahk kahk. You never heard that expression? It's journalist lingo! A "scoop" means any bit of newsworthy information that can be published. Especially before it becomes common knowledge.

That, too! Just crouch down, it's an instant hiding spot.

[capforthat]

Pretty clever! [Bulma glances down at the newspaper beneath her hands.] This is quite the undertaking. I can't help but notice the slogan beneath the title--"Because newspapers can't be hacked!" Is hacking a problem here?

[cardboard_journalism]

You're a very attentive reader, Bulma. The answer is yes.

...I'd rather not go into details, but I, myself, recently found myself victim of a daring hacker, or cracker, or whatever you call it. Kahk-kahk-kahk...

[capforthat]

Aw, you can tell me! Just between us girls right? [She grins and winks conspiratorially.] I am a genius, after all! Maybe I can help.

[cardboard_journalism]

...

[she sighs]

...a threat was made against a friend of mine. Somehow they broke into a private conversation I had over the network and... used the information to threaten a friend.

[capforthat]

[Well, the grin is definitely gone.] Wow. That's a lot worse than I expected... I suppose running the paper you must make some enemies. Your friend is okay?

[cardboard_journalism]

Kahk kahk kahk...It came out of nowhere... I can't even write about it because I have no idea who it is or what they really wanted.

She's fine... I couldn't let anything happen to her. --Her name's Athena Cykes. We're both from the same world, Los Angeles, 2027.

I couldn't get away with publishing anything directly about a hacker, but that slogan was my own personal way of getting the word out. Through subtle-ty!

[capforthat]

T-twenty twenty-seven!? We figured out they were able to bring in people from different times, but that's so far in the future!

[Unless Scuttlebutt is from a different world entirely? One that uses a different time scale? It's hard to say if she's human under that box, although her legs and arms certainly seem to be.

...either way, her surprise is evident.]

Oh, uhm. Sorry. We were talking about your friend. I'm glad to hear she's alright. You couldn't track the hacker at all?

[cardboard_journalism]

...huh? Is it that far along? --What's yours, then?

[Scuttlebutt might be able to pass as human on a good day.]

No... I wouldn't know the first thing about doing something like that. Kahk kahk kahk kahk...

[capforthat]

Age 778... Assuming we're both from Earth, you're more than a hundred years ahead of me. Which is weird, right? I thought they said the universe was supposed to be long gone by then. [More evidence that CERES isn't being entirely truthful? She sounds a tiny bit distracted, multitasking while she mulls over this hacker problem.]

[cardboard_journalism]

...what?! That doesn't make any sense...

Right, that's what it was called, Earth! You can't mean the year 778, right? Back then... I don't know what was happening! Humanity probably had barely discovered how to use animals to help them plow fields...

[it might explain the aliens though...]

[capforthat]

[... annnnd now she's paying full attention to the conversation again. She gives Scuttlebutt a funny look.]

Huh? That doesn't make any sense! We're way past using animals to plow fields, we have robots for that! [She assumes. The perks of being a rich kid: never knowing how farming works.]

[cardboard_journalism]

... Robots, huh?

[well, surely Aura Blackquill had a few robots, but, still... she didn't have an army of them, yet]

I think... probably you are from the future and something made us start using a different calendar at some point.

Just a guess! Sss, sss, sss.

[capforthat]

No, I don't think so... If that were the case, we'd have records. Besides, you're way too cultured to have come here from that far back!

[What the heck is going on in this place.]

[cardboard_journalism]

Awww, thanks! You're very nice, too!

You sure though? Maybe they were lost in the flood... or the fire... or the robots destroyed them... Kahk-kahk-kahk.

Okay... let's go over place names, then? Los Angeles is a city. It's in California, in the United States. It's got more than ten million people throughout the entire city and its many subdivisions. The most widely circulated newspaper in the area is the Los Angeles Times.

And you? If we've got "Earth" in common, surely there's a few other ones still around. Sss, sss, sss.

[capforthat]

Most robots are built by my family's business, we take pride in the low probability of catastrophic malfunctions. [Robot uprisings? Not on her watch. Maybe a rival company could have royally screwed up, but she doubts it.

As for flood or fire... she isn't convinced. Earth in her time has survived worse. Way worse.]

There's no city or town called "Los Angeles" as far as I know, and I've been all over. Do West City, Central City, or East City sound familiar to you?