Resignation © Fabien Roy 2010


                                                                       Geoffrey Pittson, DP54548


                                                                        100 Holiday St. #202

                                                                        Baltimore MD 21202

November 14, 2778

Peter Melhado, HD10112

Office of Science

500 East Capitol Ave.

Pierre SD 57501 - 5007

Top of your day old friend.

       How the hell have you been? It’s been too long. Two-two long!  The last time was at the Peterborough Convene and that was over two years ago. When I heard the news, I just had to call and bestow your due congratulations. Cursed protocol.  Thank god I had  the proper  ink.  Our bureau does coordinate their efforts with some of your sub-sectors. We’ll be working together!  Consequently,  here is the immediate duty of this official communiqué: CONGRATULATIONS on your newly appointed position as chief scientist of the U.A.N.  A small fraction of my pride is chipped beyond repair but then again I wasn’t ready to give up my present post as lead climatologist of the AGUS root-effect report.  I knew that would make you smirk. And we thought Professor Eliot was archaic because he senselessly started every seminar with: ’ there are no coincidences,  just tangents’. 

       I wish I could unload my results on someone else but you’re the big Nimbus now. I also wish we could just gab over the wave instead of this primeval system of communication. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the magnitude of your present post; it’s  the synthetic paper that gives me the heebie-jeebies.  Every time I touch it, I feel like an anachronism.  

       I’m not a gambling chap but if I had wagered  on your decision, I would have lost.  I pride myself in truly knowing the few  good friends I count on my right hand.  Your decision  leaves me speechless and wordless.  I was astonished  when you  resigned from T-World.  If I had been in your Spelts,  I couldn’t have given up the tributes. You’ve never ceased to amaze me. Your insatiable quest for glory through the altruistic need to solve everyone’s problems has always irked me.

        I know you’re thinking of Aqqar. If you weren’t, you are now.  All we had to do is pick pineapples and papayas  for four months and our dues were fulfilled, but no,  mister  I-can-swim-the-Tiber had to poke his hands in the ground. Nobody on our crew cared if the papayas were shrinking from season to season.  You single handily developed an anti-fungal  maggot while on leave. I still brag about that and it wasn’t even my sack. The growers loved you and so did… God…What was her name? The girl from Smolenka.   I can thirty years off summon a face and where she came from, but no recollection of her name.  And they pride themselves  bragging about the beneficial properties of Gouva.

       Bouva Gouva on their souls, I say.

      I am running the bread before I get to the official part of this chinwag.  I’ve never grasped the  importance attributed to  the echelon which this type of message has to endure before it reaches your eyes, until now.   I know, although  I do not approve,  that everything has to be officiated. So be it. Bureaucratic  YackMan will one day evolve. The tasks at hand will bury the officialdom.  

       I wish we were back  at Texas State.  Nimbus Timbus Cloder Niner! It is not that things were simpler then, we were just raw. And that helped us. We really believed that we were going to change a world that did not need changing.  You actually did and I can postulate with a certain accuracy that I am about to change yours.

       Now, down to the fat-trims. As the lead climatologist of  the NOAA, I am heading the official  U.A.N. statutory report  of HUF7.72/27760205/27.0591/-64.5996, a.k.a.  hurricane AGUS.  This has proven to be a daunting task. One for which I have thrown every strand of my being into compartmental mobilization of fact, data and narrative into a concise account of the fundamental skeleton of the storm.

       It was the mother of all storms. We all know it. Everyone on the planet knows it but no one is ready to take the blame for it. How could anyone be blamed for a storm? What would happen to the fabric of acceptable consciousness if someone or an entity could be blamed for the death of over four hundred thousand souls?

      Unfathomable.  I agree. I concur. My friend you have put yourself in the catcher’s mitt of a shit toss. I am sorry to tell you  I am the pitcher.  I am giving you this heads up before the endorsed report is sealed. It is time to bring back carpet asphalt. Oh! They will shout HEARSAY and HERESY but you know me well enough. I would not be positioning this limp tree on your lap if I did not believe it to be the course to track.

       It is impossible for anyone in charge to breeze through this untidy matter.  I am confident you will deal and surmount the plethora of bureaucracy and emerge as the parliamentary head of state who will implement  the legislation that will secure the well being of our planet for the next thousand years.

       The numbers and figures I will put forward have been verified threefold from sources to be co-joined to the appendixes. Nothing is left to chance, hearsay, puddle wad or fusephish.   What I am about to divulge to you  will become official record  in less than three weeks.  I do owe you a couple of bones.  This one is for the Pullman’s cryogenic throstle frame save through. I wouldn’t have had a career if it weren’t for your dead-reckoning.  I’m exaggerating but it did save my grade. And I knew from that day not to venture any further into quantum optics. 

       The initial dissection of Hurricane AGUS  by my team was rudimentary.  The report details its origin and formation so far north and late in the Atlantic and why it swelled to over nineteen hundred kilometres in diameter surpassing hurricane  HUF5.2/27520814 by 38%. (Hurricane thermodynamics are easily explainable.) The spot-on  that took us aback  was in our analysis of the erosion sustained on land. The wind was only accountable for 27% of the damage and 12% of fatalities. It was the water dumped by AGUS that was deadly.  Fracta Pin-Point algorithms allowed us to measure the quantity of water suspended in the storm.  It’s a beautiful thing. Professor Eliot resonates at least once a day in my head.

       AGUS had an average of 398 million m-tons of water before it hit the coast and onto the devastation it laid across the U.A.N.  When the eye was five  hundred kilometres over land, the measured amount of water still active was  402 million m-tons of water.  I am well aware of the controversies that have plagued the use of Fracta Pin-Point algorithms but there is no way the amount of water should increase once the storm’s eye was well over a land mass.  One of my interns,  Alexandra Sindn,  used old-fashion local gravimetric hygrometer throughout Connecticut to confirm the amount of water shed. Satellite electromagnetic absorption data  confirms our numbers.

       The question that daddled  our minds was how could the amount of water in AGUS increase once it made landfall?  We had a challenge  on our hands. There is nothing more inspiring to a team of researchers and interns than a problem to solve. As a comparative revision we combined hyper elliptic integrals with Albelian  function variables  to staunchly measure the total amount of water on earth today.

       I’ll be damned! Corinne Pewitt. The girl from Smolenka. Isn’t that the most amazing thing. Just meander side ways to Poincaré and boom!  Subconscious do as it may. Corinne, Corinne, Corinne.  Don’t  you just love to roll her name on your tongue. The secrets we have scraped underneath our fingernails are legendary.  I know if you could go back in time you’d pop up the day before the great service-server crash.  I still cannot fathom travelling four centuries back to relive the dark  decades  that followed. Oh! No. I’d spring thirty years back to Aqqar and that magical summer we spent there.

       When our visas were approved, how proud were we to say we were spending the summer in the Republic of Lybia.  To travel to one of the most fertile regions of the world was a dream come true, but Corinne. Oh! Corinne. Thank God we were good friends.  That is a sticky night that still permeates my being.  It was late in the day. We had picked our pineapple quotas and you had just identified  the protein the fungus fed on the roots. You were feeling good.  The humidity stank up our shirts and we were all drinking lemon tea with gin water.  That’s when the conversation slanted towards history.  Twelve of us sitting about the lentil soup crock. Green, red, black and even purple lentil soup. We sat back to watch the clashing fireworks between you and Corinne.  She had the gall to insinuate that the sudden twenty-two sixty-eight polar shift was an act of God.  You flipped.  She absolutely believed that God had snapped his fingers on that day.  I never grasped if you were peeved  that an intelligent woman could assign a scientific fact to an act of God or if it was the fact that she actually believed in God that irritated you.  A few gin watered teas later and it didn’t matter. We all saw God that night through the eyes of the same girl.  I  keep tangent-fielding my thoughts.

       Back on stream. AGUS’s water vapour content actually increased once it was over land.  The extra water had to come from the atmosphere. Sandi Liesvuori, a hydrologist, firmly believes  the water came from the lower layer of the stratosphere.  His calculations states that water vapours have  breached the tropopause.  He is toying with two theories that add up to the same conclusion. Either water vapours have made its way into the stratosphere or the troposphere has inflated itself a dozen kilometres higher in altitude.  One thing is for certain, his research has shown that the tropopause is no longer higher in the tropics than in the poles; it is of equal height around the globe.

       The total amount of water on earth today is 1.860 x 1019 m-tons, water vapour included.  The latest pre-service-server crash estimate we could find was a report from January 2265; 1.345 x 1019  m-tons. A divergence of  5.15 x 1018 m-tons.  There is more water on earth at this moment than there was four hundred years ago.

       We immediately considered  North Africa’s growing fields.  Although their budding vats are antiquated there wasn’t enough free flowing hydrogen to actually bind with the oxygen mist.  The extra water had  to come from somewhere else. We needed an elemental binding of  oxygen and hydrogen similar do that which we find in turbonic engines.

     It’s hard to imagine they used to say that water could not  be wasted,  just renewed somewhere else.  Then the Alarmists sounded the evaporation panic; if it weren’t for their savage rhetoric  someone might have listened to their science. By the time the water conflicts reshaped our continent they were forgotten.  And now we have too much water!

        It has always been taken for granted  that the utopian atmospheric conditions we’ve enjoyed for the past two hundred years were the result of the slight degree swing the earth took during the twenty-two  sixty-eight axis shift. That assumption is wrong.         

       Before you even question my results and subsequent hypothesis you know how  I front  a research team.  The search for the answer to the anomaly presented  to us in the form of a monster hurricane sharpened all our senses.  Roberta Lacey confirmed all our upper atmospheric data. Can you believe she is still there with Chucky.  I bet he regrets dragging her to Byrd Land. I don’t know about you but I sometimes feed on seeing how despondent our fellow friends have turned out.  I Para-Dotted him a few years back.  All your daily minutes are accounted for, so let me tell you that Spring Time Chucky has turned into Autumn Weight.  To think that we were once jealous of his looks.  They’ve been there for twenty-two years.  Can you imagine bringing up your boys  in that barren forsaken place. Her oldest , Gillis, tried to attend University but quickly realised he was an agoraphobiac. 

       The cross stream of nostalgia is blowing me astern. Garrett Grafstein was our lead chemist,  and Overbye Rankin  our hydrogarpher, just to name the ones you know. Another seven members tediously searched, hypothesised, added dull data and programmed algorithmic models to analyse the origin and reason why there is  more water on earth today than at any other point in its history. 

       It is so obvious you probably know where I’ve been heading all along with this. A bunch of equivalent bread eating  scientists  searching for answers in an intelligential circle constantly making sure their tails were still behind them.  It was the agoraphobiac that unwittingly figured it out. Babe’s mouth yields the truth even though this baby was twenty-four.  What do you think they talk about at the South Pole dinner table? Their daily work? When Roberta mentioned  we were searching for the source of the extra water, Gillis said: “Wouldn’t it be ironic if it were the V-craft’s engine.”

       Gillis’s comments were included in Roberta’s  charter-waved  memos.  The shuffling staffer, Brian Monsalve, flagged it as a class 2 priority. Although turbonic engines have been spewing out H2O for the past 500 years, it has always been taken for granted that it was a good thing furthest from the minds of inquiry.  I think our subconscious actually steered us away from such thoughts.  But Brian Monsalve  wanted to get out of the shuffling stats and followed a train of thought no one else would have.  He’s very capable and quite brilliant except for his dysfunctional qualities. He’s like a genome copy of Randall Michou. Remember, the  freshman that accumulated enough scientific point of views to best us in our Masters Discourse.            

       Brian Monsalve brown-nosed his way onto my research staff with his findings.  There is nothing worse than an clever brown-noser.  I give credit where it is due and he is the one that shifted our attention towards methanol resin.  We even had to brush up on the matter. Old science is often taken for granted.

       Pirnie and Casavant  developed the resin  in 2088, but it would take a hundred years before the technology would allow Yves Barnyard Mekler to develop the casing that would  permit  hydrogen to be used  as easily, economically and efficiently as changing an alkaline battery in a flash light.  We were surprised to find much of the documentation  needed in the Louisiana State Library. They do not advertise it but they have written records of most of the 22nd and 23rd century.  Two of my interns spent two months gathering the information on the origins of the fuel that fuels our world. 

       In my effort to explain the anomaly we had to utilize a variety  of scientists not normally employed by the NOAA.  I am fortunate enough to have that kind of smack in my cloud of influence. Mini-Nimbus Timbus Cloder Niner.   I  hired a green theorist, Fiona D’Allendra . Although she had studied  under Collene Barret, she was still inclined  towards  meta-representational  hypothesis techniques.  She worked with a molecular chemist, Curtis Bowstock,  to forge the climatic response to the surplus water enigma. 

       It is jarring how little is known about the actual rods that are inserted in the Trans-V’s  fuel  cisterns and  power posts around the globe.  Most of the technical figures are still hauled up in patented rights that have been extended over centuries for Woburn-T-World.   D’Allendra and Bowstock  had to hypothesise from  what they gathered from the  L.S.L.  The last section of my report is based on their findings. They postulate quite effectively that the rods that fuel our world are the direct cause for the excess water.

       Bowstock and D’Allendra are prepping for the board disclosures.  They have been able to break down the rods to come up with the major elements; a concoction of butanediol (C4H10O2), carotene (C40H56)and chlorophyll a (C55H72O5N4Mg)  pasted to  methanol resin. They are finalising their analysis of the permeable casings that permit the electrochemical release of hydrogen.  Their numbers are sound but they are double checking everything in a level P facility in Wichita. I get lost in all the molecular diagrams they are including. They illustrate how the casings are reacting and releasing an excess amount of hydrogen into the carburetors which binds with free flowing oxygen releasing excess water vapours that are invading our atmosphere.

       You should definitely have some comb tumblers go over the Bowstock and D’Allendra  section to evaluate it for your official speeches.  I hope we will get  a chance to discuss it when I come to Pierre in a few weeks. My official NOAA/U.N.A.  report will state  that the methanol resin combined with its casing used in all personal Trans-V crafts and industrial power units are the direct culprits of the excess water hovering in our atmosphere.  Our data concludes that if the use of methanol resin and the present casing continues we will drown this planet by the end of the 31st century.  It is an exponential matter.  It will be a hard tablet to swallow but that is the beauty of science, we pierce through the impossibility of a situation and always  find a way out.  The unspoken reality is that we will have to find an alternative way of fuelling our world.  Do not worry, I haven’t joined the Alarmists. 

       It took us over four hundred years to break our bond with fossil fuel.  And how did we achieve that? Fuel and water shortage. It is always when faced with our greatest peril that we shine. This is the nascent moment of our moment. Professor Eliot loved to tell us about Tesla and how once he became enthralled with a grand concept he forgot about friends, family, love and food.  I’m there. It’s all I think about.  There is a direct threat to our planet and we know it and we can do something about it.  We are faced with an unforeseen calamity; ’ undesirable and yet inevitable’  if we do not act. I am convinced that  out of this conundrum will emerge our grand concept. 

      As always, looking forward to seeing you.

You’re oldest friend and true pal.

Geoffrey Pittson.


                                                                        Peter Melhado, HD10112

                                                                        Office of Science

                                                                        500 East Capitol Ave.

                                                                        Pierre SD 57501 - 5007

November 17, 2778

Geoffrey Pittson, DP4548


100 Holiday St. #202

Baltimore MD 21202

Top of your day old friend.

       What a pleasure it was to read your letter. Yes, it has been two-two long! Thank you for your kind words regarding my appointment. It is a very ostentatious and strange realm I have been propelled into.  It is a sharp shift from the Woburn board room.  The bureaucracy is the most stifling part of this job,  although I think it might have more to do with the fact that I do have to answer to superiors now.  And then there is a sense of crusty fermentation using the cursed synthetic paper. I concur with your sentiments on the matter.

       In regards to Spring Time Chucky, I always took for granted that he dragged Roberta to the South Pole with the intention of never losing her to a fresher chicken. How many roosters roam the streets of Byrd Land?

       In regards to Corinne, I find it hard to imagine that you could not summon her name on demand when I am sure your bachelor mind summons the memory quite efficiently, even after thirty years.  Life isn’t  a chess match. I also hear echoes of professor Eliot on a daily basis. 

       Thanks for the heads up on your report. I am cautious but extremely intrigued to have your research scrutinized by our review board. I have already opened  the channels that will allow technical data from Woburn-T-World available for analysis.  I am the big Nimbus.  Who’s smiling now? I cannot wait to share with you the stateliness of the capital.

       I would like to invite you for an official visit on November 22nd, at 11.30 a.m.  We can gab about old times and new times to come.


Nimbus Timbus Cloder Niner!

Sincerely,  Peter Melhado



                                                                        Office of Science

                                                                        500 East Capitol Ave.

                                                                         Pierre SD 57501 - 5007

November 22, 2778

       I Geoffrey Pittson, being of sound mind, resign my post as head climatologist of the National Atmospheric and Oceanographic Administration of the United Americas of the North, effective immediately.  I leave as interim supervisor my trusted colleague Brian Monsalve to assume all due responsibilities.


Geoffrey Pittson.

Ice fishing. Official test photo for tumblr site.

Ice fishing. Official test photo for tumblr site.

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