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month record rogue 4 3 1
Out in the wastelands of Columbia, great square pillars dot the wilderness.
They are her frontier bases. Each is about a hundred fifty to two hundred fifty meters tall, though near a third of this height is driven securely into the ground, requiring specialized nomadic platforms to install them.
Even the remaining two-thirds that stand above ground are enough to make them a remarkable sight in the wastelands. Out in the dull and monotonous barrens, these bases serve as important visual markers to traveling Pioneers, whether by ground or air.
'So, for every batch of new pillars built, you pick a few you like and carve offices out of the insides.'
The one lounging in the folding chair, commentating while puffing out billows of smoke, is Tin Man, one of the Maylander Foundation's top agents, recently returned from vacation.
Due to his metal body, he is aptly named. The folding chair he bought on a whim can't actually support his weight. It seems pretending to slouch on it is not beyond his skills.
'They're just temporary installations, mainly used to make things easier for traveling agents. The significance of their existence has been proven.'
The one unhurriedly straightening out the creases on his shirt is the Maylander employee who welcomed him in.
'CUP241... I remember the President's New Year's speech of '99, all about celebrating 'the successful installation of the 200th frontier base'.'
'We do things differently nowadays. Drive the pillars in first, and only declare them open for use when the time is right. Since your contingent has been so busy with national defense, I understand maybe you haven't heard about the policy change.'
'Even if all it takes is a short walk east to leave the 'wasteland'?'
'...It's precisely because of that that we need to be more flexible. As long as it's not broadcasting a callsign, this big pillar's no Columbian installation, but rather a natural rock formation.'
'Sure, sure. So I'm guessing this counts as a secret interrogation in a secret base?'
'An interrogation? Hardly! We both know that you need only ask, and you could be sitting with the ladies and gentlemen inside immediately.'
The employee glances at a tightly shut metal door in the back of the room.
Of course, they know it themselves too, he adds.
'Whatever the case, I hope the Foundation won't act too hastily or—recklessly—when it comes to handling an agent who's just returned from some R&R in a highly sensitive region, possibly carrying high value intel.'
The alarms on both of their watches beep in unison.
'You're absolutely right. But it's time now. Please, go ahead.'
The employee opens the metal door, then politely stands aside.
