Read Emile and the Dutchman for Free Online Page A

than they are about me talking about how you build a grmpmhl
    can't even say it
    at least eye can talk honestly though with nobody listening

    Manny,
    CENSORED but eye hate this typewriter—why are all military models half deaf? I would have brought my own, but I've spent most of my life being being hassled for being a rich kid; eye figured I'd try and avoid it here. Not that it matters. The Dutchman gives everyone trouble, regardless of race, creed, or what-CENSORED-ever. Paragraph. CENSORED you I hit the bloody punctuation button. CENSORED thing must have been stuck—try again.
    Better. Hmm, can eye say bloody question mark.
    Start again.
    Many
    har rumph!!!
    Manny,
    It took me more than three hours to drag the routing code out of the ship's computer. Methinks that Magellan 's skipper takes this isolation bit too far. It would be nice if he'd just let us access the damn user's manuals, for God's sake!
    Norfeldt and I have just finished the en route portion of our psych testing, and have been cleared by the computers. Seems that I still hate stewed carrots and love parboiled spinach, so I must be sane—well, crazy in the way that the service likes, anyway.
    Yes, I've met the Dutchman. I don't know why, but I'd always had an image of the famed feared CENSORED Major Alonzo Norfeldt as being somewhat taller—he's actually an average-height fat man. Although he's not necessarily quite as soft as he appears; if a weak man were to actually fire that point-forty-four Magnum of his, it'd him knock head over heels.
    Like eye did to that bastard Brubaker, or that blond hooker with the uneven CENSORED did to you ellipsis
    CENSORED—...
    Sorry. The punctuation button seems to be sticking, although the inflection routines are working awfully well for a military model. Doesn't matter—I'll clean this up later, you'll never see it. But you're going to see some expletives in here that you'll think a bit too mild for your old buddy Emile, since I'm not going to have half my favorite adjectives be CENSORED censored Trust me, and substitute appropriately.
    In any case, the Dutchman is an interesting person, for an CENSORED. I'm not sure that I don't believe that he really believes that humanity'd be better off if we just blew away every sentient species we ran into, instead of trying to Contact them.
    But he may. Me, I'm still conservative old Emile, who accepts the Contact Service philosophy that we'll have enough to answer for, whenever we blimp into a really advanced civilization.
    Enough of that. I'm getting philosophical in my dotage, of all things. Ridiculous.

    We just had a delivery, and we're still docked with the mailboat, so I'm going to have to hurry this. I may not have time enough to completely clean it up.
    In any case, the new ALSERV was on the mail-boat. Congratulations, First Lieutenant. As soon as I hit Vee en why cee—VNYC, we're going to drink up a good quarter of my trust's interest and celebrate—matter of fact, if you can access Magellan 's TOA, feel free to make some appropriate reservation's at Virgin Mary's, and we'll get ourselves properly swived.
    Hey! That worked. Wheee!
    In any case, don't worry about allowing me time for rest. Rest is all I'm getting—sometimes (like about twenty times an hour close parenthesis I wish that the Contact Service allowed woman officers. Either that, or we'd stayed in the Navy. Remember Ella what ever her name was from New Haven? I swear she could
    Mmmmm, never mind.

    If this wasn't going on flimsey, eye wouldn't say this, but I'm working on getting a look at the rating Norfeldt gave me, but so far I haven't been able to crack the codes. Again, if I had my own machine with me, I'd probably be able to—the service can't use the heavy-duty codes for personnel records, can they?
    I know. You can't answer that, and won't.

    You're going to find this hard to believe, but I'm actually losing at poker. Yes, me. The Dutch man plays five-card stud better than even that kid who