A Rather Mild Revelation, part II of V

[The Good Reverend Roger]

The Machine God is angry. 

Today, the bucket elevator on the compactor failed catastophically, tearing the entire driven pully assembly AND the belt & buckets to scrap.  Ten minutes later, the strainer on one of the acid lifting pumps burned through, and shot a stream of 100 centigrade hydrochloric acid 15 feet across the unit, which destroyed a $5400 flow meter.  We're also dealing with mystery contamination, as zirconium (an exotic titanium) tubes are distintegrating in ways that shouldn't be chemically possible.

The Machine god is in fact pissed.

We don't understand.  We have performed all the Holy Maintenance Rituals, we have used the correct annointed lubricating oils, we have honored Finagle and Murphy in all things, yet the Machine God smites us hip and thigh.

There's really only one solution, of course, and that is to paint the safety manager red and feed him into the digestor, to carry our apologies to the Machine God, and to Finagle and Murphy, and plead for a sign that will instruct us on what sins we have unwittingly committed.

This may sound harsh, but it's a harsh City.  Things that are ruled by physics and chemistry elsewhere are handled by Gods here.  Newcomers don't believe this, at least not at first, until they witness for themselves the wrath of the Traffic God (One of the Machine God's sons), as they witness or take part in a "Tucson Moment"...A horrible pile of twisted, smoking steel that had moments before been several cars full of people happily texting while they drive.

Outsiders laugh at our beliefs, and call us "cargo cultists"...But who, may I ask, is locked in a horrible ice age right now, and who is basking in a fairly warm, sunny day?  Our Gods may be stern, but they deliver.  Well, except for the Goddess of Poor Decision Making, but she has abandoned us anyway, and her temples crumble.

So perhaps you'll understand why Ken has to be sacrificed for the greater good.

Time to break out the red rustoleum.

Or Kill Me.

To be continued.

[Adios]

Yes, a sacrifice is required.

[Richter]

Someone there is certainly a devotee of Nurgle, as indicated by the profound and unexplainable decay.  The heretic must be rooted out and purged, as must the others who have inevitably come under their sway.  Let the accused be strapped to a blade of the agitator and therein ponder their conscience for one full hour.  Should they survive, they are a heretic and should be purged.  If impractical, let their mouth be packed with salt, their lips sewn together, and have them buried to the neck in teh dessert for two days.  Should they survive, they are a certainly tainted, and should be purged.

In the ways of honoring the Machine God, I am not better versed than yourself or any of you or your resident Tech - Priests, but if the guilty may be expunged without further damage, and your maintenance rituals honored in a single act, then you have the blessings of the Inquisition.

In Service,

Witchfinder Rictus, Ordo Hereticus

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Someone there is certainly a devotee of Nurgle, as indicated by the profound and unexplainable decay.  The heretic must be rooted out and purged, as must the others who have inevitably come under their sway.  Let the accused be strapped to a blade of the agitator and therein ponder their conscience for one full hour.  Should they survive, they are a heretic and should be purged.  If impractical, let their mouth be packed with salt, their lips sewn together, and have them buried to the neck in teh dessert for two days.  Should they survive, they are a certainly tainted, and should be purged.

In the ways of honoring the Machine God, I am not better versed than yourself or any of you or your resident Tech - Priests, but if the guilty may be expunged without further damage, and your maintenance rituals honored in a single act, then you have the blessings of the Inquisition.

In Service,

Witchfinder Rictus, Ordo Hereticus

It shall be done.  We may have a little collateral damage here, but that's nothing new.

[Adios]

Aren't there any nearby brine disposal holes? I mean, you are in an oilfield.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Aren't there any nearby brine disposal holes? I mean, you are in an oilfield.

I am? 

TGRR,
Works at a chemical refinery.

[Adios]

Aren't there any nearby brine disposal holes? I mean, you are in an oilfield.

I am? 

TGRR,
Works at a chemical refinery.

Well....shit. Never mind then.

[Sister Fracture]

The Machine God is angry. 

Today, the bucket elevator on the compactor failed catastophically, tearing the entire driven pully assembly AND the belt & buckets to scrap.  Ten minutes later, the strainer on one of the acid lifting pumps burned through, and shot a stream of 100 centigrade hydrochloric acid 15 feet across the unit, which destroyed a $5400 flow meter.  We're also dealing with mystery contamination, as zirconium (an exotic titanium) tubes are distintegrating in ways that shouldn't be chemically possible.

The Machine god is in fact pissed.

We don't understand.  We have performed all the Holy Maintenance Rituals, we have used the correct annointed lubricating oils, we have honored Finagle and Murphy in all things, yet the Machine God smites us hip and thigh.

There's really only one solution, of course, and that is to paint the safety manager red and feed him into the digestor, to carry our apologies to the Machine God, and to Finagle and Murphy, and plead for a sign that will instruct us on what sins we have unwittingly committed.

This may sound harsh, but it's a harsh City.  Things that are ruled by physics and chemistry elsewhere are handled by Gods here.  Newcomers don't believe this, at least not at first, until they witness for themselves the wrath of the Traffic God (One of the Machine God's sons), as they witness or take part in a "Tucson Moment"...A horrible pile of twisted, smoking steel that had moments before been several cars full of people happily texting while they drive.

Outsiders laugh at our beliefs, and call us "cargo cultists"...But who, may I ask, is locked in a horrible ice age right now, and who is basking in a fairly warm, sunny day?  Our Gods may be stern, but they deliver.  Well, except for the Goddess of Poor Decision Making, but she has abandoned us anyway, and her temples crumble.

So perhaps you'll understand why Ken has to be sacrificed for the greater good.

Time to break out the red rustoleum.

Or Kill Me.

To be continued.

D: Fuck.

[Richter]

Someone there is certainly a devotee of Nurgle, as indicated by the profound and unexplainable decay.  The heretic must be rooted out and purged, as must the others who have inevitably come under their sway.  Let the accused be strapped to a blade of the agitator and therein ponder their conscience for one full hour.  Should they survive, they are a heretic and should be purged.  If impractical, let their mouth be packed with salt, their lips sewn together, and have them buried to the neck in teh dessert for two days.  Should they survive, they are a certainly tainted, and should be purged.

In the ways of honoring the Machine God, I am not better versed than yourself or any of you or your resident Tech - Priests, but if the guilty may be expunged without further damage, and your maintenance rituals honored in a single act, then you have the blessings of the Inquisition.

In Service,

Witchfinder Rictus, Ordo Hereticus

It shall be done.  We may have a little collateral damage here, but that's nothing new.

It is all justifiable to preserve the peace and purity of the innocent.  If allowed to fall and witness the true horrors of rampant heresey, any detractors would beg for the necessary sacrifices the Inquisition requests.  A wound may scream with pain at the cauterizing iron, but it is a greater mercy that the infection may be burned out and the whole limb may be preserved.

More importantly, the populace will see the horrors of posession and the fervor of the prosecution the Inquisition shall bring.   It shall make unquestionable the bitterness of any consortation with chaos.  

(I want to burn somehtign now.  Where's my goddamn hat?)  

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Someone there is certainly a devotee of Nurgle, as indicated by the profound and unexplainable decay.  The heretic must be rooted out and purged, as must the others who have inevitably come under their sway.  Let the accused be strapped to a blade of the agitator and therein ponder their conscience for one full hour.  Should they survive, they are a heretic and should be purged.  If impractical, let their mouth be packed with salt, their lips sewn together, and have them buried to the neck in teh dessert for two days.  Should they survive, they are a certainly tainted, and should be purged.

In the ways of honoring the Machine God, I am not better versed than yourself or any of you or your resident Tech - Priests, but if the guilty may be expunged without further damage, and your maintenance rituals honored in a single act, then you have the blessings of the Inquisition.

In Service,

Witchfinder Rictus, Ordo Hereticus

It shall be done.  We may have a little collateral damage here, but that's nothing new.

It is all justifiable to preserve the peace and purity of the innocent.  If allowed to fall and witness the true horrors of rampant heresey, any detractors would beg for the necessary sacrifices the Inquisition requests.  A wound may scream with pain at the cauterizing iron, but it is a greater mercy that the infection may be burned out and the whole limb may be preserved.

More importantly, the populace will see the horrors of posession and the fervor of the prosecution the Inquisition shall bring.   It shall make unquestionable the bitterness of any consortation with chaos.  

(I want to burn somehtign now.  Where's my goddamn hat?)  

Yes...For is it not written, "A closed mind gathers no heresies.", and "Your innocence proves nothing."?

[Jasper]

You can tell the Nurglies by the way they eat preservatives to maintain appearances.  They put it in their food.  No shit.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

He'll never know what hit him.

It's for the Good of the People.

[Sister_Gothique]

Things that are ruled by physics and chemistry elsewhere are handled by Gods here.  Newcomers don't believe this, at least not at first, until they witness for themselves the wrath of the Traffic God (One of the Machine God's sons), as they witness or take part in a "Tucson Moment"...A horrible pile of twisted, smoking steel that had moments before been several cars full of people happily texting while they drive.

The truth in this makes me giggle uncontrollably.

Our Gods may be stern, but they deliver.  Well, except for the Goddess of Poor Decision Making, but she has abandoned us anyway, and her temples crumble.

Hey, now! Signs of my handy work are still clearly evident. For example, someone shooting the Good Humor Man (in rather poor humor, I'd say). Who DOES that?! I've not "abandoned" you, merely spreading the bad decisions (and apparently the cold -.-).