Beck (@new_toon) was kind enough to render one of my tweets into cartoon form, which made me mighty happy.
In response I've put him into a short story:
President Obama leaned toward the screen. "Is this thing on, Charlie? I can't see a damn thing."
Charlie "Buddy" Bolden didn't know. He hated these times, when he was expected to "know stuff". He did know stuff, just not this stuff. If the President gave him a cornet, King Bolden would happily blow the shoes and socks off of his presidential feet with the best New Orleans ragtime ever heard anywhere, but the President was not now or ever going to hand him a cornet. The President must never find out that Charlie even played the cornet. The other thing the president must never find out was that he had absolutely no idea how to be head of NASA, which was the position in which, through no fault of his own, he found himself. Luckily, most aspects of the organisation seemed to run themselves, so all he had to do was agree to stuff, even when he had no hope of understanding it. Charlie had grown accustomed to pretending to know what was going on, but occasionally he would find himself in situations like this where he was expected to know how this damned technology worked and the pressure was unbearable.
"Just hold on a second Mr. President," he ventured, "maybe it'll straighten itself out." Charlie started to sweat. Just then the screen lit up and was filled with a face.
"Shit!" shouted the President, jumping back in his seat.
"Oh God almighty, thank you!" thought Charlie, raising his eyes.
"Well Hello Mister Beck!" said the President, smiling. The face did not smile back.
"Beck." it said.
"I'm sorry?"
"Beck, Mr. President. It's just Beck. No 'mister'"
"Okay, uh, Beck, I just wanted to stop by and say hello personally. It's important work you're doing up there, and the nation, if not the world is not ungrateful."
The face was impassive, the steady gaze if anything, a little unsettling. "With the greatest respect, the nation and the world don't know I'm here, sir." The eyes didn't flicker or blink.
Obama wasn't president for nothing. He widened his smile: "That's so, Beck, but I am here as their representative, and I'm pretty sure I speak with the voice they would use themselves if they were here in my seat." His brow furrowed slightly, "What's that you're doing there, Beck?"
Beck was looking down at something not visible on the screen.
"Doodling, Mr. President, just doodling." He looked up again. The illusion of sudden eye contact made the President avert his gaze, momentarily. It was slight, but noticeable.
"Say Beck, can I ask you something? Something personal?"
"Of course Mr. President, anything you like. Is that Charlie behind you? Hi Charlie!"
Charlie's brow darkened slightly, but he waved, "Hey Beck!"
"So is it still cool to be head of Nasa, with all the rockets and stuff?"
Charlie shifted stance and glanced at the back of the President's head.
"Sure Beck, it's still cool." He looked back at the screen: "A little stressful sometimes."
Beck caught the subtle emphasis and smiled; his first expression of emotion.
"You'll be fine, you're used to dealing with brass." Charlie smiled a little, despite himself. The President coughed politely.
"I'm so sorry Mr. President," said Beck, "You wanted to ask something?"
"Yes I did Beck. Something I was thinking about on the journey over here. Is there much downtime, or do they keep you pretty busy? I mean is it ever boring up there?"
Beck looked down again.
"Oh, I'm never bored, Mr. President. I just drive around up here, point the cameras where they tell me. There's not much to it, but I keep myself occupied."
"That's good, Beck. That's very good." President Obama glanced at his watch. "Say Beck, I'd better sign off, I've got a million things to do, and I definitely shouldn't keep you from your work. It's been good talking to you."
Beck's features were impassive, "It's been good talking to you too, Mr. President. You must stop by again."
"I'll do that Beck, I will. Keep up the good work, and you have a good day!"
"You too Mr. President. Bye Charlie!"
Charlie waved, but the screen had already gone dark.
Beck leaned back in his seat and adjusted his harness slightly, his back was stiff. Another light was flashing on his screen. He reached out and tapped it. A face was just about visible through the background static.
"Hi Charlie!"
Charles Frank Bolden was an agitated man, Beck could tell, even through the snow.
"What's up Charlie?"
"It's Charles!" hissed Charles, "and I'm in an insane asylum!" the figure checked behind itself, furtively.
"Really?" said Beck, "that surprises me. It does, it really surprises me. Can I ask you something?"
"Ask me something? For Christ's sake Beck, there's only two percent battery left on this thing!"
"I'll be quick, Charles, I will. It's just something that's been bothering me about why I'm here."
"Why you're there?" Charles looked incredulous.
"Well you told people you'd sent robots, Charles. You said you'd built robots, so why didn't you just build the robots?
Charles stared in silence for a second.
"Well robots to do that sort of thing are..."
"Expensive?"
"Complex. Very complex. Beck, are you understanding me? I'm in an insane asylum!"
"I'm sorry to hear that Charles," said Beck, his expression unchanged, "you really should try to assimilate more, keep yourself busy. Would it have killed you to learn the cornet?"
"I tried to learn the f-!" The screen went dead. Beck sat quietly for a few seconds.
"Well, that was Charles, then." said Beck to himself. "An insane asylum!" He chuckled. "I kept telling him him to keep himself busy."
Beck tapped his screen again, then scrolled through the display. He stopped at an entry and smiled, broadly. He picked up his pen, thought for a moment and began to draw.
N.B. Links : Charles Frank Bolden Jr.
AA
