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	<title>Prose</title>
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		<title>Letters from Korea &#8211; II</title>
		<link>http://ulsanonline.com/prose/2011/11/letters-from-korea-ii/</link>
		<comments>http://ulsanonline.com/prose/2011/11/letters-from-korea-ii/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 16 Nov 2011 07:37:22 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Sandy Cruikshank</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ulsanonline.com/prose/?p=27</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Hi Momma, &#160; Well, so far, it&#8217;s been an adventure here in Korea. I got fussed at today. Not quite yelling, but a good fussing. I was standing on the corner by the little grocery store near my apartment waiting to cross the street. There&#8217;s a walk &#8211; don&#8217;t walk signal at the corner, but [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="rw-right"><div class="rw-ui-container rw-class-blog-post rw-urid-280"></div></div><p>Hi Momma,</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>Well, so far, it&#8217;s been an adventure here in Korea. I got fussed at today. Not quite yelling, but a good fussing.</p>
<p>I was standing on the corner by the little grocery store near my apartment waiting to cross the street. There&#8217;s a walk &#8211; don&#8217;t walk signal at the corner, but this wasn&#8217;t no big road and once the only car in sight passed I started to walk across. And that&#8217;s when the fussing started. There were two middle aged women next to me (people here call them azummas but that&#8217;s a whole nother topic, Momma.) Anyway, these two azummas didn&#8217;t have a thing to say until I stepped off the curb to cross the street. Then they went into overdrive and boy, howdy, did they fuss. I didn&#8217;t understand 99% of it, but one word that I did get was &#8220;danger.&#8221; That word came out nice and clear and loud and once they figured I understood that word they said it over and over again. One of them pointed at the walk – don&#8217;t walk sign and kept saying &#8220;Danger! Danger!&#8221; Dang, Momma, I though she was gonna start swinging her arms and spin around in a circle like that robot on that old TV show &#8220;Lost in Space&#8221; except I ain&#8217;t no Will Robinson and this ain&#8217;t no outer space.</p>
<p><span id="more-27"></span></p>
<p>Well, I figured out I ain&#8217;t supposed to cross till the little green man comes on, so I waited with these two azummas – and let me tell you , Momma, they looked pretty dang smug for having put me in my place.</p>
<p>So we waited for the walk sign. And while we was waiting, you wouldn&#8217;t believe what came driving up next to us and stopped at the light. There was this woman driving a car and what looked like her mom in the passenger seat and the mom was holding a baby! No car seat or nothing! The grandma had her safety belt on but she just held that baby in her lap like there wasn&#8217;t nothing wrong. I mean, shoot, all it would take is just a quick stop and that poor little baby would get all smooshed up against the dashboard and turn out as ugly as cousin Jenny&#8217;s baby with that hairlip. I still remember her baby the way that flap of skin where her nose and mouth should have come together would fly out when she cried. It looked like one of them close-up microscopic pictures of an ant with its sidewways jaws. We used to laugh when all the little kids would run out the door screaming when Jenny&#8217;s baby cried and made that flap fly. I know it ain&#8217;t funny, but we laughed just the same. Anyway, that&#8217;s what I was thinking when I saw this grandma holding her baby in the front seat. She&#8217;s gonna stop hard and that baby&#8217;s gonna end up ugly like Jenny&#8217;s baby talking sideways out of her mouth. So I said &#8220;Oh my god&#8221; real loud like and these two azummas looked at me like what for. So I pointed at the grandma in the car holding the baby and said &#8220;Danger!&#8221; Momma, those two women acted like they never heard that word in their life. They looked at me, they looked at the grandma, and then the little green man sign turned on and off they walked across the street without so much as a word.</p>
<p>I had to stop and think about this, Momma. They hollered at me like wild indians for crossing a road with no traffic before the light said ok, but they didn&#8217;t make a peep when this old grandma held her baby like she wasn&#8217;t nothing more than a rag doll. I just hope that baby is ok and they didn&#8217;t make no sudden stops. I almost missed the walk sign while I stood there and thought about this whole dang thing.</p>
<p>Later that evening, I was having dinner with some of the new friends I made – Momma, I&#8217;ve made some real nice friends from England, South Africa and Canada &#8211; I&#8217;ll tell you about them later. Anyway, we was having dinner and one of the girls, Gina, said Korea was just like that. A lot of contradictions. Freak out over a crosswalk but don&#8217;t give a hoot if a kid ain&#8217;t buckled or in a car seat. I guess I&#8217;ll learn more what she means by that as time goes on.</p>
<p>Anyway, it&#8217;s time for me to go to work, so I&#8217;ll sign out. I&#8217;ve been teaching English to a couple of kids in the evenings after school so I&#8217;m a little busy. But that means I can send more money home for Daddy&#8217;s cancer treatments.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>I love you and miss you,</p>
<p>Sandy</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>p.s. Please don&#8217;t tell cousin Jenny I called her baby ugly!</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Letters from Korea &#8211; I</title>
		<link>http://ulsanonline.com/prose/2011/11/letters-from-korea-i/</link>
		<comments>http://ulsanonline.com/prose/2011/11/letters-from-korea-i/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 15 Nov 2011 02:53:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Sandy Cruikshank</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ulsanonline.com/prose/?p=24</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Dear Momma, The plane ride in from home was fine, but really long. When we left Charleston, we had to take a shuttle flight over to D.C. and then a bigger jet to San Francisco before we went to Seoul. If I&#8217;d a known that we was gonna have to wait 2 hours through baggage [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="rw-right"><div class="rw-ui-container rw-class-blog-post rw-urid-250"></div></div><p>Dear Momma,</p>
<p>The plane ride in from home was fine, but really long. When we left Charleston, we had to take a shuttle flight over to D.C. and then a bigger jet to San Francisco before we went to Seoul. If I&#8217;d a known that we was gonna have to wait 2 hours through baggage check, security, and waiting at the gate and all that just to go to D.C. I&#8217;d a had the school fly me out of there. We could of drove together to D.C from Coalwood just as well as we could of to Charleston. Once I got to Seoul I had to take a shuttle bus to another airport before I got on a jet to Ulsan. That was a full day of travel, for sure, Momma.</p>
<p>Anyway, I&#8217;m here now and I&#8217;m settled into my apartment. The Korean lady who picked me up at the airport seems really nice. I didn&#8217;t have to work the first day I came &#8216;cuz I didn&#8217;t get in until 9p.m. and they knew I&#8217;d be whipped from a day in the planes. But by Tuesday they had me in the classrooms from 1:30 until 8:30. I probably could of worked on Monday, but the school owners said I should rest. They gave me a couple of papers with the Korean alphabet said I might want to study some. How &#8217;bout that Momma? I ain&#8217;t even been to school yet and I already got homework!</p>
<p><span id="more-24"></span></p>
<p>I got up real early on Monday (I guess it takes a few days for the time difference to kick in) and figured I&#8217;d get some shopping in. The little fridge in my apartment was empty. So I went out around 8 and found a little grocery store. It didn&#8217;t open until 10 and by then I was getting real hungry. I bought some milk and cereal and some juice, but it was kind of hard to shop. I don&#8217;t think it would have mattered even if I could of read the labels on most of that stuff. Momma, there&#8217;s a whole lot of things I ain&#8217;t never seen before. I asked a few people what this or that was, but even when they understood what I was asking I didn&#8217;t understand the answer. I can see why they want people to teach English here, Momma, &#8216;cuz there ain&#8217;t many people who do.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>Most of the people so far have been pretty normal, but that was in the airports and what not. Once I got down into Ulsan people didn&#8217;t seem quite so friendly. Most of the ladies are real nice, but the men, especially the middle age ones, kind of sneer at me and give me the whole up and down look. Momma, I know I ain&#8217;t the ugliest thing around, but you can see it in the men&#8217;s eyes how they feel. They&#8217;re not real good at being discrete.</p>
<p>When I went to the school, the kids were real polite. They&#8217;re cute, too. Most of them are curious about foreigners and a few of them stared at me the whole time like they ain&#8217;t never seen one before. I know they did, though, &#8216;cuz the school owner told they had a Australian guy the last year. Whoever he was, he didn&#8217;t have boobs &#8216;cuz some of those kids were sure staring at mine. One little boy told me &#8220;teacher! chee-chee big size.&#8221; So, there you go Momma – my first Korean word: chee chee – and I didn&#8217;t even need a book to learn it. I never thought my chee chees were all that big but compared to most of the women here, I guess they are.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>Momma, I really miss you and Daddy. I know it&#8217;s only been a few weeks, but it already seems like a lifetime. I&#8217;ll send some money home when I get paid. I know you&#8217;re gonna need it what with Daddy&#8217;s lung cancer from the coal mines and all. I&#8217;m really glad you and Daddy pushed me to finish college &#8216;cuz I wouldn&#8217;t be able to have come here to and help pay Daddy&#8217;s doctor bills unless you did. Course, it ain&#8217;t like there&#8217;s many jobs back home these days anyway. Tell everyone I say &#8216;hey&#8217; and tell Aunt Babe that the pickled cabbage is pretty good. She was afraid I wouldn&#8217;t like it. She told me that Uncle John tried it back in the Korean war and he said it was terrible. Well, you know how she likes them big green garlicky onions – ramps – so I figure she&#8217;d like the kimchi, too.</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>I love you Momma and I&#8217;ll write again soon.</p>
<p>Love, Sandy</p>
]]></content:encoded>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Electric Communists</title>
		<link>http://ulsanonline.com/prose/2011/11/the-electric-communists/</link>
		<comments>http://ulsanonline.com/prose/2011/11/the-electric-communists/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 14 Nov 2011 02:27:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Martin Rehder</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Science Fiction]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://ulsanonline.com/prose/?p=18</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Jim pulled on one leg of his trousers and stopped. His wallet had fallen out of the back pocket and dropped onto the locker room floor. Before slipping it back into his trousers, he opened it and looked at the top picture. It was still bright and clear except for the edges which had become [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="rw-right"><div class="rw-ui-container rw-class-blog-post rw-urid-190"></div></div><p>Jim pulled on one leg of his trousers and stopped. His wallet had fallen out of the back pocket and dropped onto the locker room floor. Before slipping it back into his trousers, he opened it and looked at the top picture. It was still bright and clear except for the edges which had become a little faded from living in the tight, sweaty space between Jim&#8217;s butt and his chair. Jim looked at the picture of himself and his wife and kids. He hadn&#8217;t really given it much more than a fleeting glance over the past several months and now he really looked at it closely.</p>
<p>His wife looked the same. Despite being 36 and approaching middle aged, she still looked great and he thought she was incredibly sexy. He, however, had changed considerably since this picture was taken and he could barely imagine going back to that body.</p>
<p>“Who&#8217;s that fat guy with your wife and kids?”</p>
<p>Jim jerked his head to the right to see Arnie, grinning and peering over his shoulder at the picture. Arnie and he were workout buddies. They shared both the same time slot at the gym and division in the Company.</p>
<p><span id="more-18"></span></p>
<p>“I was pretty large back then, wasn&#8217;t I?” he said, adding his own wide grin. “This isn&#8217;t even that old. I think we had this taken less than two years ago.”</p>
<p>“I remember when you looked like that. You&#8217;ve really slimmed down and toned up a lot since then.”</p>
<p>In the picture, Jim&#8217;s face was puffy and pale. He had a thick swatch of flesh serving as a second chin. Jim thought there was probably another layer of fat tucked under the collar of that shirt that only he knew was there. His belly and hips were much bigger than his shoulders and he had a classic bowling pin shape. Even his hands looked fat, his fingers looked more like sausages than digits. There was nothing about the guy in the picture that spoke of athletics or fitness. He was just another middle aged fat guy.</p>
<p>“What did you weigh back then, Jim?” Arnie asked. “Or is that still a company secret?”</p>
<p>Jim closed his wallet and stuck it in his pocket. He shifted onto his right leg and pulled on the left leg of his trousers. “No secret, Arnie. I really don&#8217;t know. I didn&#8217;t really want to come here in the first place.” He pulled his shirt out of the locker and started buttoning it, beginning over his broad, powerful chest and working down to his washboard stomach. “I never really looked at the scale&#8217;s readout. I just took my turn on it like everyone else before hitting the gym.”</p>
<p>“A lot of people didn&#8217;t want to come here. I wasn&#8217;t real happy about it either,” Arnie said. Then, after a moment&#8217;s reflections added, “There were sure a lot of angry people back then, weren&#8217;t there?”</p>
<p>Shortly after Jim and his family had their portrait made, the Company instituted mandatory “health breaks.” The communications people tried to spin it that way, anyway. The Company decided that it was in their best interest to have healthy employees. They reasoned, rightly so, that it would lesson their National Health Care tax burden and thus make them a more profitable firm. A natural offshoot of that would be healthier, happier employees.</p>
<p>But while that may make logical sense, not everyone was for it. Many were quite happy in their slothful, couch-loving existence and Jim was no exception. But the economy being the way it was, Jim begrudgingly donned his shorts and sneakers and showed up at the Company gym. It&#8217;s not like he had a choice in the matter. Another company would have eventually done the same thing. They all were doing it now. So, Jim ran on the hyper-mill, rode the exo-bike, pushed and pulled on the weight machines. He even occasionally subjected himself to the “cage,” a grueling workout that resembled a gerbil&#8217;s exercise wheel.</p>
<p>“I suppose if I really wanted to know how much I&#8217;ve lost I could check the records,” Jim said as he tied his tie.</p>
<p>“You could.” Arnie replied. “The Company health center tracks everyone&#8217;s stats.”</p>
<p>Everything in the gym was tied into the central system. From the weight and body fat analyzers to the exo-bikes and hyper-mill, everything was connected. And everything was recorded; heart rate, speed, weights lifted, duration – there was nothing the Company didn&#8217;t know. Jim figured that once someone figured out how to measure every morsel of food that went into his mouth they&#8217;d want to know that, too.</p>
<p>“It just doesn&#8217;t seem important how much I&#8217;ve lost. I have to admit, though, I do feel better these days. It&#8217;s funny that people don&#8217;t always want to do what they need to do for themselves. It&#8217;s hard to get past that initial inertia.” Jim said as he finished up his grooming before going back to the office.</p>
<p>“I thought it was more a case of losing another bit of freedom on the path to &#8216;life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,&#8217;” Arnie wisecracked. Arnie did his assigned time in the gym like everyone else, but he did exactly that much and no more. He didn&#8217;t disguise the fact that he was more libertarian-minded than Jim. He also couldn&#8217;t disguise the small roll of fat around his middle that had never gone away. “I just don&#8217;t like being told what to do with my own body. I already give the Company a good day&#8217;s work. But you&#8217;ve really embraced it, Jim. You seem to like the workout.”</p>
<p>It was true. Starting slowly, Jim had picked up his pace after a few weeks when he noticed his pants had begun to sag a little on his still large frame. His wife had made a comment, too, about how he looked slimmer. The enthusiasm in her voice was not lost on Jim. Within a month of beginning his mandatory workout, Jim had started to not just embrace it, but look forward to it. He felt better, had more energy, seemed more alert and liked the new physique that was beginning to take shape. Now, nearly two years later, Jim was a toned athlete. No longer a bowling pin, Jim had slim hips, muscular thighs and calves, powerful shoulders and thick arms.</p>
<p>“Maybe it&#8217;s the endorphin rush,” he said. Jim grabbed his jacket and closed the locker door. “Well, I&#8217;ll see you back in the office, Arnie.” He said and walked out of the gym.</p>
<p>The afternoon sun was bright and warm on his face and the spring breeze was deliciously cool. It felt good to be back outside after being inside the gym. The noises of the various machines along with the stuffy air made it feel a little oppressive inside. He wondered what it would be like to run outside. He imagined himself running alongside the creek that bordered the property, his soft brown hair jauntily bouncing as he ran, the sweat evaporating and cooling him as nature had intended for it to do. In the gym, the air had a musty, sweat-sock smell that seemed to plaster the sweat back against his body as he worked out. Many years ago, he knew, a lot of people jogged outside. But these days, running outside of a controlled gym just wasn&#8217;t done.</p>
<p>Jim walked around the corner of the gym towards the shuttle train that would carry him back to his office on far side of the Company&#8217;s massive campus. In the back of the gym he could hear the enormous whine of the flywheels, turbines and gears. The nano-technology dynamos the Company had installed were famously efficient and notoriously loud. Even behind the high retaining walls passerby could hear the whines, whirrs and buzzes 24 hours a day with the constant use. But, they provided needed power so no one complained.</p>
<p>Had more people known the actual cost of those dynamos, Jim thought they might be surprised. He was an accountant with the Company and he knew how much they&#8217;d spent on the dynamos and associated hardware. Each one cost enough to house, feed and clothe a few dozen families for years. Jim&#8217;s department handled the internal asset management and he knew how much they&#8217;d invested in all areas of internal energy development. And it was vast.</p>
<p>It was only a short walk to the train station from the gym, but he wanted to run the distance to it. Not because he was in a hurry to get back to the office, he just wanted to run. He picked up his pace and walked past the other workers heading in the same direction. Some looked tired and worn out, as if their “health break” had drained what little energy they had. Some, like him, looked energized. He allowed himself a short daydream as he briskly walked and pictured what it must have been like to run a race. He imagined a crowd of runners, each in shorts and a tank-top shirt, bold numbers pinned on their chests and backs. Along side the runners, throngs of onlookers cheered them as they made their way to the finish. As he walked, out of the corner of his eye, Jim checked the pace of the other workers, wondering whether he could win if they really were racing. A few of the other workers had more than a little athletic tone and he eyed them slyly. He increased his pace a little more, imagining breaking the finish line tape across his chest as he stepped up on the platform and into the train, the crowds waving excitedly for his victory.</p>
<p>On the short ride back to his office, the train cruised past the factories. Encased in gleaming mirrored glass, the workers and machines churned out electric trains exactly like the one in which he was riding. Not nearly as big as the locomotives of old and not limited to laid tracks, the new trains the Company created swiftly and efficiently moved people throughout the cities. Since cars, taxis and other low-occupancy vehicles had ceased to exist years ago, the trains had become the workhorse of modern society. With only the trains silently cruising the streets, it was a small matter to computerize all of them. The city swarmed with automated trains, all stopping, starting or slowing as necessary. They functioned together almost with the efficiency of a single-celled organism, moving nutrients, waste and communications around as needed.</p>
<p>The Company was in the right place and right time to become the pinnacle of the land transportation industry. And while was Jim just a mid-level executive in accounting, he was happy and secure working for one of the world&#8217;s premier manufacturing companies. He helped manage the flow of funds the Company used to grow itself and he was familiar with all of the automation and power generation they had built. Over the years, he&#8217;d presided over the expenditure of funds that had made the Company almost self-powered and its draw on the national power grid reduced to a bare trickle. He knew the “health breaks” indeed made for healthier employees, he could personally attest to that. But he also knew that every spin of the wheel or pull of a weight in the gym was attached to a piece of machinery somewhere which caused the dynamos to create the electricity that powered the factories, offices and trains.</p>
<p>The train slowed to a stop at the office complex and disgorged Jim and a hundred other office workers like him. Another hundred were waiting at the stop to get on and do their assigned slot in the gym. Jim skipped up the five flights of stairs to his office and settled in to finish his afternoon of work.</p>
<p>He had barely logged back on to his computer when the phone rang. That was hardly surprising these days as cubicles and even the chairs were connected to the central computers. As soon as he had come in his presence was detected, enabling any potential caller within the company to know if he was there before they ever dialed his extension.</p>
<p>“Hi, Jim, it&#8217;s Mary,” He knew that. Unless someone else was sitting at her desk and using her phone, his computer told him who was calling.</p>
<p>“Hey, Mary, what can I do for you?” he asked when he picked up the phone. It likely wasn&#8217;t her he&#8217;d be doing for and he knew it. Mary was the administrative assistant to Collin, the executive vice president of the Accounting Division.</p>
<p>“Collin would like to meet with you when you get a moment, Jim. When&#8217;s a good time?” She asked.</p>
<p>“I&#8217;m available now. Is that OK?”</p>
<p>“Sure, thanks! See you in a second, Jim.”</p>
<p>The outer office where Mary&#8217;s desk guarded the door to Collin&#8217;s office was twice as large as Jim&#8217;s cubicle. To the left and behind her desk was a small reception area and she asked Jim to have a seat on the sofa. He sat down on the sofa and watched her walk back to her desk. Mary&#8217;s health breaks hadn&#8217;t done her any harm, he thought. Her shapely legs and backside fit nicely into the dress she wore. Jim remembered she&#8217;d been attractive before the health breaks started, but she&#8217;d picked up a head of steam since then and was smoking hot now.</p>
<p>With still no time to wonder what Collin might have for him, the heavy oak door to Collin&#8217;s office opened wide and Collin stepped out. “Hi, Jim. How are you?” He said, his deep, commanding voice befitting a man in his position. “Come on in.” Like Jim, Collin was powerfully built. Unlike Jim, however, Collin had been that way before the health breaks began.</p>
<p>The two men shook hands and Collin asked him to sit down while he walked back to his own massive leather chair behind the broad desk.</p>
<p>“You&#8217;ve been doing tremendously the past couple of months, Jim,” Collin began, leaning back in his chair, his right arm out stretched to the haptic pad on his computer. “I wanted to bring you in here to talk about how well you&#8217;ve done.”</p>
<p>&#8216;Thanks, Collin. I&#8217;ve enjoyed working in the Asset Management programs. I find it interesting and &#8211; “</p>
<p>Collin cut him off with a wave of his large hand. “I&#8217;m not talking about that, Jim. I mean your health.”</p>
<p>“My health?” Jim asked.</p>
<p>Collin immediately read the puzzled look on Jim&#8217;s face and explained. “It&#8217;s no secret that everyone&#8217;s statistics are recorded at the gym.” His right hand flicked at the pad and graphs and charts sprang up on his screen. “Your body fat is down, your heart rate sustainability is up and your Newtons are fantastic.” Collin continued to talk, mostly looking at the computer screen.</p>
<p>Jim still looked confused.</p>
<p>Collin stopped talking and saw the look on Jim&#8217;s face. “You&#8217;re an athlete, Jim.” Collin said, as if that explained everything.</p>
<p>Visibly blushing, Jim smiled and muttered that he worked hard at his health these days and even had fantasies about running a race like people used to do years ago.</p>
<p>“Don&#8217;t do that!” Collin barked. He leaned forward hurriedly in his chair to look directly at Jim. “You know self exercise is prohibited. No one is allowed to exercise without being in a controlled environment!”</p>
<p>“I was just daydreaming, Collin,” Jim said apologetically. “But I&#8217;m still confused. Did you call me in here to talk workouts? I thought you wanted to talk about asset management.”</p>
<p>“All right. I&#8217;ll get to the point. Assets, one in particular, is exactly what I&#8217;m talking about. Jim, I&#8217;m reassigning you.”</p>
<p>“Reassigning me? What the -” Jim stammered.</p>
<p>“Don&#8217;t worry, you haven&#8217;t done anything wrong. In fact, just the opposite.” Collin reassured him.</p>
<p>“Reassign me to what? I&#8217;ve always been in accounting. Where else could I go? Who would handle asset management?”</p>
<p>“Jim, don&#8217;t take this the wrong way, but we can find another accountant. We might have to train him or her, and it might take a while, but it isn&#8217;t rocket science.” Collin leaned back in his chair for the sales pitch. “You&#8217;ve got other talents, though. Talents that are sorely needed by the Company. Things that only a special few like you can do.”</p>
<p>“Collin, I&#8217;m an accountant. What “special” talents are you talking about”?</p>
<p>“Jim, it&#8217;s no secret that the Company is a net consumer of energy. The factories take a considerable amount of electricity to keep them going. Whatever we can&#8217;t produce, we have to buy from the National Power Grid. That directly hits our bottom line.”</p>
<p>“What does that have to do with me?” Jim asked, still puzzled.</p>
<p>“Those new dynamos we purchased? The new nano-technology ball-bearing dynamos? They convert kinetic energy into electricity at nearly 99.99% efficiency. We need those running at top speed, Jim.”</p>
<p>“OK, so you need someone to manage the placement and utilization schemes of the dynamos? Is that it?”</p>
<p>“Not quite, Jim,” Collin said with a sigh. “We need you to run them.”</p>
<p>“Run them? I&#8217;m not an engineer, Collin, I&#8217;m an accountant.”</p>
<p>“No, you&#8217;re not, Jim. Not any more. You&#8217;re an athlete.”</p>
<p>Jim shook his head. “I really don&#8217;t understand what you&#8217;re telling me.”</p>
<p>“You&#8217;re going to run, Jim. We&#8217;re putting you on the hyper-mill.”</p>
<p>“The hyper-mill? I&#8217;m going to run? That&#8217;s my job now?” Jim was incredulous. “I didn&#8217;t go to university for nearly five years so I could be a hamster on someone&#8217;s treadmill!”</p>
<p>“Let me be blunt, Jim. There are plenty of people like Arnie. He does his health breaks and he works out, but his heart isn&#8217;t into it.” Collin&#8217;s hand flicked out again to the haptic pad and another set of charts came up on the screen. “Compare his Newtons with yours, Jim. He trots. You <em>run</em>! Those nano-tech dynamos are just too damn expensive – hell, you know what we paid for them – we need them running at full throttle!”</p>
<p>“So, just because I decided to take the health breaks seriously I now have to run for a living?” Jim exclaimed. “This is insane!”</p>
<p>“We all have to do our part, Jim,” Collin tried to soothe him as best he could, but his sales pitch wasn&#8217;t winning any awards. “The Company needs electricity. And buying it isn&#8217;t cheap. You have the ability to turn those dynamos in a way that few can do. If we let those things run at the speed most of those bag-ass accountants would run them we won&#8217;t break even for years.”</p>
<p>“And because I can, I must. Is that it?”</p>
<p>“From each according to his abilities, to each according to his need.” Collin said, resorting to one of the old Company mantras. “Look at the bright side: maybe you can organize a race or a contest of sorts with the other athletes you&#8217;ll be joining.”</p>
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		<title>Welcome to the Ulsan Writer&#8217;s Guild</title>
		<link>http://ulsanonline.com/prose/2011/11/welcome-to-the-ulsan-writers-guild/</link>
		<comments>http://ulsanonline.com/prose/2011/11/welcome-to-the-ulsan-writers-guild/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 13 Nov 2011 03:15:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Ulsan</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[This section of UlsanOnline.Com is dedicated to the writers and readers in Ulsan.  Short stories, opinion pieces, editorials, non-fiction and novels are always welcome. Writers may choose to write under their own name using Facebook credentials, they may create a new login id or may even write anonymously (if you wish to write anonymously, please [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="rw-right"><div class="rw-ui-container rw-class-blog-post rw-urid-90"></div></div><p>This section of UlsanOnline.Com is dedicated to the writers and readers in Ulsan.  Short stories, opinion pieces, editorials, non-fiction and novels are always welcome.</p>
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