Chapter 1: It's Family Business!
Notes:
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Chapter Text
Allan Bravecog
Senior Vice President of Sales
Sellbot Headquarters
Organics & Biofuels District June 30th, 2003
Mr. Bravecog,
I’ve received your marketing strategy for the upcoming year. Stop sending me further copies: I’m suffocating in your relentless stream of faxes.
Your plan (if I can even call it that) is nothing short of absurd. In all my years as Chairman, I have never encountered such a senseless, wasteful proposal. Is C.O.G.S. supposed to sacrifice its hard-earned resources on this outrageous elevator pitch? Did those Toons fry your CPU with blueberry slop?
Go back to the drawing board. Write a strategy that actually holds merit. If I don’t see you re-submit it by tomorrow, you’ll earn yourself a broken handset.
Robert Cyger
Chairman of the Board of Directors
C.O.G.S. Inc.
July 1st, 2003
Dear Diary,
Yikes! Robert wasn’t kidding about the handset. I’m still reeling from the thick, nasty “crack” I heard this afternoon, and it’s 9PM. Who would’ve thought a 3-foot tall Suit had enough strength to snap a solid chunk of plastic over his knee? Or enough spite to go to my office to break it in the first place?
Anyways, I’m trying to keep my chin up, but losing that phone stung. It was a nice four-line model, with intercom and a hands-free speakerphone. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that its box warranty still holds, but if it doesn’t… Well, I could always ask Janet. She loves putting the screws on stiff dealers.
Now to whinge about the rest of my no-good, horrible, very bad day.
I tried making a good strategy for Robert. I really did! Last night, I wrote so much that my hands were practically falling out of their sockets. In fact, my fingers were still tingling when I went to the Luxury Suites and Textiles District this morning.
But once I entered Robert’s office and handed him my papers, he didn’t thank me or see what I had to say.
No, you know what he did? He flipped through the pages, marched to the back of the room, and shredded all of my hard work into worthless confetti. “Reading your handwriting is like entering Craig’s mazes with no autocaddie!” he shouted. “Reuse last year’s strategy!”
The nerve of that man! Putting me through an exhausting session of planning and writing and editing and organizing… and then yelling at me?! And then flying to my office to break my phone, knowing I was just around the corner?!? If I was a member of the C-Suite, I’d-
…Oh, motherboard of mercy. I was just about to write something terrible.
You know what all of this calls for? A pick-me-up. I wonder if there’s a bit of cogolate in the kitchen? I could do with a square or two of salted caramel…
-Allan
July 1st, 2003 (Addition)
I’M A FREAKING GENIUS!!!!!!!!!!!
Look, Diary, I know it’s the middle of the night but I wolfed down a whole bar of dark cogolate and my circuits are firing nonstop and I think I’m about to make the best decision of my entire career. Just- just hear me out!!
That first plan I had: the one I faxed over and over and over? I’ll go through with it anyways. Call it the intuition of a master salesman, but it’s exactly what we need to keep C.O.G.S. in the black!
I have the power to carry out this strategy. The funds. The resources. I’ll keep info on it closed to Sellbot HQ, so the other departments don’t get on my case. And if people do ask? I’ll pretend it’s a new campaign for ringbinders or tape dispensers! Simple as that!!
So what if Robert didn’t give me his stamp of approval? I’ll show him that a Bravecog always gets it right. That those stupid Toons and their delicious, tangy, blueberry pies didn’t mess with me one bit. And when I’m done, and my new scheme brings C.O.G.S. record profits… he’ll have to bow down and kiss my treads in gratitude. I can hear him now…
“Oh, Mr. Bravecog, I’m so sorry! I never should’ve underestimated you and your ability to sell things! In fact, you’re so good at it that I’m inviting you to the C-Suite as my Chief Marketing Officer! Plus, I’m gifting you the largest, shiniest phone on the market - straight out of my own pockets!”
How’s that for payback, huh???
- Allan
July 2nd, 2003
Dear Diary,
I stand by what I said, but what the [BLARP] did I eat last night?
My stomach’s been doing somersaults all day. In fact, I was so sick that I had to lie down. The horror! And to make matters worse, a bunch of unionized Sellbots took the opportunity to riot... Janet had to stop them from marching into my office to demand 15-minute lunch breaks.
I don’t know what happened afterwards. I think they got fired on the spot? I’m glad Janet took action, though. The Foreman would’ve smashed them to bolts.
- Allan
Project Intake Form
Request Date:
July 8th, 2003
Name:
Allanwrench Bravecog (But call me “Allan”!)
Company & Job Title:
C.O.G.S. Inc. - Senior Vice President of Sales
Contact Information:
Email: [email protected]
Phone: +1 999 249 5999
Please provide a brief, high-level summary of your project.
- Build a new Suit!
- Make a new marketing campaign with me at the center!!
- ???
- Profit!!!
What is your budget for this project?
A lot!!!
What is your deadline for completing this project?
Late 2003!!
What are your primary goals for the project?
Get the Sellbot Department more $$$!
Get Toons to stop throwing pies at me.
Who is your target audience?
Um.
What are your priorities or constraints for this project (budget, scope, etc.)?
wait a minute.
Does this project require ongoing maintenance and support?
i don’t think i thought this far
Are there any additional considerations you would like to share about this project?
?????????????????? HELP
July 8th, 2003
Dear Diary,
Eugh, this salesman’s block is grinding my gears.
I was all revved-up for this project a week ago... and then I lost my drive. And the Family Solutions form didn’t help things. It’s not that simple - I’m out of inspiration!
Guess it’s time to plan for this year’s Strategy Meeting. I could use some ideas from my Sellbots.
- Allan
To: "Mr. Hollywood" <[email protected]>, "Mingler" <[email protected]>, "Factory Foreman" <[email protected]>, "Two Face" <[email protected]>, "Mover & Shaker" <[email protected]>, "Glad Hander" <[email protected]>, "Name Dropper" <[email protected]>, "Telemarketer" <[email protected]>, "Cold Caller" <[email protected]>
From: “Allan Bravecog” <[email protected]>
Subject: Strategy Meeting Information!
Date: Tues, 22 Jul 2003 17:14
Hello everyone!
Hope you're doing well.
I want to express my gratitude for all of your hard work. You've kept our factories running, swiped thousands of gags, and - of course - made those pesky Toons cry! Expect a cheesy treat in the cafeteria next week. I ordered it straight from this new Chicogo-style pizza chain… I think it’s called the “Mozzarella Sticks”? Their Lorem Ipsum is to die for.
Now, onto the reason I’m sending this email. I’m proud to announce that our 2004 Strategy Meeting will take place tomorrow at 4:00 pm. I know you’ve all been anticipating it, but don’t forget to bring your pencils, pens, and notebooks: we have a lot to cover.
As always, these strategy meetings are confidential. Last year’s Name Dropper layoffs were a financial nightmare, and I really don’t want to go through that a second time. If your subordinates ask anything about what you heard, remember: loose lips tank tips!
I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow. Here's a little "thank you" in the form of some fireworks. :-)
* *
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Regards,
Allanwrench Bravecog
S.V.P. of Sales
Transcript for C.O.G.S. Sales Department - 2004 Strategy Meeting
Wednesday, July 23rd, 2003
C.O.G.S. Sales Department
Head Sellbot Committee
Organics and Biofuels District
The committee met behind schedule at 4:15pm in Meeting Room S-311, Sellbot Headquarters. S.V.P. Bravecog accepted responsibility for this delay, as he was preoccupied with acquiring “a morsel of blueberry pie” from the cafeteria.
Present: S.V.P. Bravecog [presiding], Ms. Janet Jennings [transcribing], Factory Foreman, Executives Mr. Hollywood, Mingler, Two Face, Mover & Shaker, Glad Hander, Name Dropper, Telemarketer, Cold Caller.
TRANSCRIPT
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Welcome, all Sellbots - and thank you for attending! This year’s strategy meeting will come to order.
EXE. TELEMARKETER: [whispering] Calling all gamblers. How long do you think it’ll take Mr. Bravecog to get to the point? Winner gets 15 Cogbucks and a cogfee can on me.
EXE. COLD CALLER: An hour, tops. Last year’s meeting would’ve left me out cold… if the Foreman hadn’t sat next to me.
EXE. TELEMARKETER: [whispering] Yeesh, talk about a rude awakening.
EXE. COLD CALLER: [whispering] There’s a reason I cop out of factory duty nowadays.
EXE. NAME DROPPER: [whispering] I bet two hours. I was having lunch with that Two Face earlier, and he said Mr. Bravecog had big plans for us Sellbots. Emphasis on ‘big’.
EXE. TELEMARKETER: [whispering] Oh, you’re the new Executive Name Dropper, huh? Word to the wise: don’t cozy up to that schmuck. He’s a bona-fide fibb-
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: [interrupting] As I was saying! Our yearly strategy meeting is now in session. All eyes on me, please.
Ah, Ms. Name Dropper, I didn’t mean that literally. It’s a…
…Oh. Wonderful.
Why don’t you… leave your eye on the table? I’ll get the Foreman to put it back in later.
[The Factory Foreman pinches his brow and mutters something unintelligible.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Anyhoo! I know last year’s meeting was slow. I take full responsibility for that.
FACTORY FOREMAN: Along with today’s delay, Mr. Bravecog?
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: [sighing] And for today’s delay too, Mr. Foreman.
But it’s okay! Because this meeting’ll be over before you can say “cogfee break”.
[S.V.P. Bravecog takes out his briefcase and opens it on the table. Inside is a stapled stack of papers, a massive computer mouse, and a minuscule USB drive.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: All I need to do is take this USB, and…
[S.V.P. Bravecog attempts to fish out the USB, and fails.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Oops! Well, you know what they say: if at first you don’t succeed…
[S.V.P. Bravecog attempts to fish out the USB again, and fails.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Whoopsie daisy. Third time’s the charm?
[S.V.P. Bravecog attempts to fish out the USB again, and fails.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Ah.
[The Factory Foreman holds his head in his hands. Exe. Telemarketer checks his watch. Exe. Two Face rolls his eyes.
Noticing S.V.P. Bravecog’s difficulties, Exe. Glad Hander stands up and walks over to S.V.P. Bravecog. S.V.P. Bravecog leans down to listen to him.]
EXE. GLAD HANDER: [whispering] Would you like a hand, Mr. Bravecog? I’m smaller, so I can take care of the USB for you.
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Oh, Mr. Hollywood, you’re too kind! Please, go ahead.
[Exe. Glad Hander smiles. With the utmost dexterity, he plucks the tiny USB from S.V.P. Bravecog’s briefcase. He makes his way to Meeting Room S-311’s computer, and plugs the drive in. On the flip of a switch, a desktop menu flickers on the room’s projection board.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Now that’s what I call a model employee! No wonder you’re my top-ranking Sellbot.
[With a smug grin, Exe. Glad Hander walks back to the meeting table and seats himself. At the same time, S.V.P. Bravecog moves to Meeting Room S-311’s computer, taking his mouse with him.]
EXE. MR. HOLLYWOOD: [muttering] That damn Glad Hander. I can’t believe Mr. Bravecog still mixes us up. We don’t look anything alike!
EXE. MOVER & SHAKER: [whispering] If Mr. Bravecog mistook me for someone else, it’d shake me up for days.
EXE. MINGLER: [muttering] Honestly, I’m still not sure which one of you is which… And I’ve rubbed shoulders with this entire department for years.
[S.V.P Bravecog plugs in his mouse and opens a presentation.]
[Slides recreated below:]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Right, here we go! Can you all see the projection board from your seats?
[Everyone in the room says “Yes”, except for the Factory Foreman, who says “No.”]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: [ignoring him] Excellent. In that case… onto the first slide!
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: As you know, 2003 has been a tough year for us Sellbots. According to the Chairman’s mid-year report, our department performance was, and I quote: “barely serviceable.”
EXE. COLD CALLER: [snorting] You can say that a-MMPH?!
[Exe. Two Face muffles Exe. Cold Caller.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Besides the ever-present Toon menace, we went through significant corporate restructuring. If you’re wondering why our factory silos look rusty, or why our newer Sellbots feel flimsier…
…Blame the executive Name Dropper who leaked vital information to C.O.G.S.’s competitors.
[Exe. Name Dropper gulps and looks at the floor. The other meeting participants pay her no mind and nod.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Next slide.
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: So, next year? We’re taking a different approach. No more Chairman-approved puff pieces or hacky circulars on coal bricks. No, we’re going for a-
EXE. MINGLER: [interrupting] You’re… not following the Chairman’s orders? Won’t that get you in trouble?
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: That’s why I want to keep next year’s strategy a secret. The Chairman can’t penalize me if he doesn’t know what I’m up to!
[Exe. Mingler raises her eyebrow at S.V.P. Bravecog. Exe. Mr Hollywood steeples his hands.]
EXE. TWO FACE: [grinning] Boss? I like the way you think.
[S.V.P. Bravecog smiles and bows for Exe. Two Face. The Factory Foreman groans and facepalms.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: [standing up] Anyways! I’m aiming for a softer touch this year. A marketing campaign with an approachable side. One that’s guaranteed to melt the heart of the toughest Toon.
In a nutshell…
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: “Fatherhood looks good!” How’s that for a slogan?
2004 Sellbot Strategy Meeting: Notes & Next Steps
Whew! Yesterday’s strategy meeting was intense. Better get these notes out of the way. I need everyone’s input in ink.
- My new strategy was… divisive.
Divisive how? Well…
- The lower-level executives (Cold Caller, Telemarketer, Name Dropper) were pretty critical?
I expected Exe. Name Dropper to act strange, since this was her first meeting… but the Telemarketer and Cold Caller went quiet too. They’re usually the chattiest Suits.
So I had a tête-a-tête with our newest hire once the meeting was over. I had to make sure that the Foreman fixed her up and… Ack, I’m already going off-topic. Bad Allan!
Anyways, I raised the issue with her, and she told me that my pitch gave those two executives the heebie-jeebies. They felt like I was asking them to date their co-workers or share an elevator with their juniors. In other words: I got way too personal.
I’m confused. What’s wrong with asking them to design my baby? I thought focus-grouping was our bread and butter…
- The mid-level executives (Mover & Shaker, Two Face) liked what they saw, but…
…Well, I’ll get there in a moment.
Both were electrified when I announced my pitch. Since the two of them couldn’t come up with ideas on the spot, they agreed to give me their thoughts after the meeting.
Later this evening, Exe. Mover & Shaker sent me an e-mail with a catalog of Suit parts to pick (and to avoid). Apparently, he studies Cogsmo and Gentlecog’s Quarterly for the latest modification trends. I hope he didn’t shirk work reading, but those magazines were pretty useful! I’ll write out his suggestions a little later.
Closer to bedtime, I heard from Exe. Two Face. I expected something similar to Exe. Mover & Shaker, but to my surprise, I got a list of jittery, typo-filled questions. Stuff like “Ddo= you know what it ttakes to raise a child?”, “Whats uiif theis plan doesn’t work out? You ahve a PLan b right?”, or “How wikll you take r eposnisbility if our department goie sin the red?”
I still haven’t replied to him. Guess that big smile hid a bad case of the yips…
- The high-level executives (Mingler, Mr. Hollywood), the Factory Foreman and the executive Glad Hander were fully on-board.
The Foreman?!
Wasn’t expecting such a level-headed guy to be so gung-ho about my plan. But according to Exe. Mingler, he thought the campaign would highlight my compassion; a quality he felt the other departments lacked. I wonder if the Club President was giving him grief again…
Exe. Mr. Hollywood (or was it Glad Hander?) gelled with my merchandising idea; that is, releasing a new product line on my baby’s build-day. He hand-wrote his own design tips, and gave them to me at the end of the meeting. (Again, I’ll copy them later.)
Exe. Glad Hander (…or was it Mr. Hollywood?) said my idea might also work as a Toon deterrent. Apparently, those technicolor pests believe that Suits don’t understand concepts like “family”. So if they learned I had a kid, they might have second thoughts about attacking Sellbot HQ. Makes sense to me!
At any rate, I’m glad most of my Sellbots were on board with my strategy. I’m worried about a couple of things (like Exe. Two Face’s questions), but if I play my cards right and plan accordingly, I think I should be a-okay!
Now, as promised: the design notes. I put them on stickies for easy memorization. I hope this new brand I’m using stays stuck to my notebook’s pages… - Emphasise cuteness for overall design.
Cuteness == highly marketable!
Exe. Mingler told me to watch the “Anecgloater” for inspiration. Seems she met her mother on a business trip.
Have no idea who this girl is, but it looks like she’s super-popular with kids back in Suitopia…
- Buy a TV head model.
Exe. Glad Hander (… Mr. Hollywood?) saw lots of young Cogs with that headmake while taking a flight to Pencilvania. Apparently, TV heads are in style right now.
Might need to research what model would work best… LCD? CRT? A flatscreen shape, or something boxier?
- Use a “small + chubby” body model package plan.
Exe. Two Face suggested using silicone versus traditional hard metal for the casing. According to him, soft, squishy material would future-proof the kid’s design.
Exe. Mr. Hollywood (… Glad Hander?) agreed: He felt there were too few fat Cogs at HQ. (Did he forget about me?)
- Use the best motherboards and adaptive learning software for the CPU.
The Foreman said that these would make the kid really smart when it grew up…
Which would make it an excellent future employee (and successor). Talk about thinking ahead!
- Add a plug tail.
Mover & Shaker said this design element was uncommon in Suits, but an unusual trait would help my kid stand out from the crowd.
(“Like my mustache”, he added. Not sure if that is a good thing.) Will add more thoughts and notes later (including my own)… But right now, this V.P. is super sleepy!
Once I get everything I need, I’ll fill out another Family Solutions form and send it in.
Project Intake Form
Request Date:
July 25th, 2003
Name:
Allan Bravecog
Company & Job Title:
C.O.G.S. Inc. - Senior Vice President of Sales
Contact Information:
[email protected] - +1 999 249 5999
Please provide a brief, high-level summary of your project.
The Sales Department at C.O.G.S. Inc. has faced challenges such as layoffs and property damage caused by Toons. This has led to a decrease in productivity, impacting our sales.
To address these issues, I wish to create a new Suit that will be the center of a long-term C.O.G.S. marketing campaign.
What is your budget for this project?
[See attached spreadsheet]
What is your deadline for completing this project?
November 2003 at the earliest.
What are your primary goals for the project?
This project will:
• Lead a marketing campaign focusing on compassion and familial bonds.
• Launch a future merchandise line aimed at C.O.G.S. employees.
• Discourage Toons from committing further property (and employee) damage.
Who is your target audience?
The new Suit’s merchandise line is aimed at young adults (those between the ages of 18-24 years old). Thus, the Suit’s design should be fashionable and aesthetically appealing.
[See attached paper for detailed design suggestions.]
What are your priorities or constraints for this project (budget, scope, etc.)?
[See attached spreadsheet.]
Does this project require ongoing maintenance and support?
Yes. I want to ensure this project lasts for decades to come.
Are there any additional considerations you would like to share about this project?
Please do not discuss this project with anyone other than myself and the design team.
August 8th, 2003
Dear Diary,
It’s been 10 days, and the catalog isn’t here… Forgot the “business days” part. Ignore me!
Crossing my fingers that they read my notes before they shipped my catalog. I saw the book on their website, and it looked thick enough to be my doorstop. If I’m not careful, it might snap my arm in two. To end up wearing a sling to my beloved promotion ceremonies… Oh, the horror!
Okay, catalog concerns noted. Time to switch gears.
The past week or so, I’ve found myself second-guessing every decision I've made. Even when I’m prepping my cogfee, I’m thinking things like, “Am I going about this the right way?” or “What do I really want from this strategy?” And all over what flavor syrups I’m going to choose. My doubt is endless…
But I know where it's coming from.
See, I got curious about that “Anecgloater” girl - you know, the Suit starlet Exe. Mingler mentioned - and I searched for her online. Turns out her parents were former Sellbots. Apparently, Irene and Xenon Filia-Mont left C.O.G.S. in its infancy to pursue their own business ventures. It was right around the time Robert hired me as VP. Guess that’s why I never bumped into them?
Er, back to the Anecgloater. One of the first things I came across was a Chicogo Tribune interview with Irene. I expected her to talk about the Anecgloater’s accomplishments, like any other parent would… but the way she went about it felt off. Like Neon, her own daughter, was a product. Not a person.
It made me think about what Exe. Two Face asked in his email. What the lower-level executives said in the strategy meeting. What Robert wrote back in June.
When I told them about my plan… did their chest twist in the same way mine did when I read that article?
-Allan
To: "Allan Bravecog" <[email protected]>
From: “Family Solutions Customer Support” <[email protected]>
Subject: Catalog Update
Date: Fri, 29 August 2003 16:32
Dear Mr. Bravecog,
Thank you for working with Family Solutions.
Your catalog should arrive next Monday at 7:00 PM SST (Suitopia Standard Time). With consideration to the notes in your project form, your catalog also contains index tabs that will direct you to the Suit parts we recommend.
If you have further questions about your project, let us know. We will assist you as soon as possible.
Tel: +1 231 134 3720 | Fax: +1 247 1707 9493 | [email protected]
August 29th, 2003
Dear Diary,
7PM?!
I’m glad my catalog’s coming, but isn’t that kinda late?
…Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t make sales on Mondays. Will pick it up when I get back home.
-Allan
To: "Allan Bravecog" <[email protected]>
From: “Family Solutions Customer Support” <[email protected]>
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Catalog Update
Date: Fri, 19 Sept 2003 1:45
Dear Mr. Bravecog,
Thank you for working with Family Solutions.
We’ve received your (many) emails regarding the status of your upcoming Suit project. As of writing, almost all of the parts are in our warehouse.
Additionally, we contacted Ives & Ray about your custom order. Currently, they have one commission slot left for the current year. We’ve reserved this slot under your name, but we strongly suggest calling them to discuss your specifications and payment.
We hope you find this information helpful. If you have further questions about your project, let us know. We will assist you as soon as possible.
Tel: +1 231 134 3720 | Fax: +1 247 1707 9493 | [email protected]
September 19th, 2003
Dear Diary,
Dangit. I really should’ve asked Family Solutions for some sort of timeframe.
This year’s coming to an end, and if my project’s not finished, 2004’s marketing strategy will be dead on arrival. I can’t afford that… not after all the money I’ve spent.
Or will spend. I talked to Ives & Ray over the phone this afternoon, and a custom monitor head’s going to sting my bank account hard. Of course, I went ahead and paid for the commission. My baby - the center of my life and my marketing campaign - deserves a face of its own! Not some mass-produced… mug. But still, can’t they work a little faster? Ship the parts sooner? Let me take control of my own project again?
Something that would make this wait a little less agonizing.
...Ugh, I don’t feel like writing. I’ll just end this and prepare my notes for the designers. Will mail them tomorrow morning.
-Allan
Transcript for the VHS Tape: “Baby Building (DO NOT RECORD OVER!!!)”
Tape Date: Sunday, September 28th 2003
Transcript Date: Monday, September 29th 2003
I was fine with transcribing 2003’s strategy meeting…
but making one for a home movie?
Really, Mr. Bravecog?
The committee met on schedule at 7:00pm in S.V.P. Bravecog’s home office, [REDACTED FOR PERSONAL INFORMATION].
Present: S.V.P. Bravecog [presiding], Package [unbuilt Suit]
TRANSCRIPT
[S.V.P. Bravecog sets a large, cardboard box on his wooden desk. He settles down and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Phew. Look at the size of this thing!
Good on you, Family Solutions. You actually sent me a properly sized package - not one I’d need to find with a magnifying glass. And you followed my rush order too! That deserves a 5-star rating on CogsumerAffairs.
Now, let’s open this thingamajig, shall we? Just wanna double-check all the parts I ordered came through.
[S.V.P. Bravecog steps back to open a drawer under his desk. He takes out a large boxcutter, and starts cutting the box’s packing tape.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Ha, I’m a little out of practice with unboxing. I wish Janet or one of the Goons was here to help…
Unwrapping your packages wasn’t in my job description.
Actually, now that I think about it - how do Goons open things? Janet, I get: she’s got hands like me and everyone else. But they’ve just got those… stompy stomper things.
"Feet." The word you’re looking for is "feet."
Ack, it’s right on the tip of my tongue! Can’t believe I’m forgetting something so simple.
I wonder if it’s all the cogfee running through my system. Must’ve guzzled, what, eight or so cups this morning? My circuits definitely feel… twitchy.
[S.V.P. Bravecog slices the package open.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Oho, there we go. Cogffeine jitters can’t stop Mr. Bravecog!
[S.V.P. Bravecog puts the boxcutter down on his desk and unfolds the flaps of the package]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Well, they certainly didn’t skimp on the packing peanu-
[S.V.P. Bravecog accidentally spills a few peanuts onto his desk.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Oh, shoot! Lemme just… get something real quick.
[S.V.P. Bravecog quickly leaves the room. A few minutes pass before he returns with a crumpled roll of ZapLock bags.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Gonna save these foamy tidbits for later. They look like they’d go well with a nice helping of cheddar cheese.
Maybe some bacon too? And a dollop of fresh sour cream. Or onion crisps. I haven’t had onion crisps in-
[S.V.P. Bravecog wipes his mouth with his sleeve.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Yikes, drool! Keep it together, Allan. Your seven-layer dip can wait.
Not worth it.
Tried something similar when I was getting my MBA at UChicogo.
Found myself talking to Ralph on the big white telephone.
[S.V.P. Bravecog quickly shakes his head. Then, he digs through the box, continuing to spill peanuts everywhere. After a minute or two, Allan fishes out a smaller package.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: And here’s part numero uno. What’s this?
[S.V.P. Bravecog turns around the smaller package.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Will you look at that? It’s the torso parts. And if I check the label…
...Yup, short and fat. Just as ordered!
[S.V.P. Bravecog sets down the torso and digs through the larger box again. After a few seconds, he pulls out another small package.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: And this… These are the arm components. Which means…
[S.V.P. Bravecog uses his other hand to pull yet another package out.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: The leg pieces are here! Perfect.
[S.V.P. Bravecog sets down the arm and leg parts. Once again, he digs through the larger box. However, he doesn’t pull out anything.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Huh. That’s all? Weird.
[S.V.P. Bravecog digs through the box one last time.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: I mean, I did tell Family Solutions to let Ives & Ray deal with the head and CPU stuff. But the tail and holster should be- Oh!
[S.V.P. Bravecog pulls out a tiny package.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: There it is. Must’ve slipped away when I was fishing for the others.
In that case - it’s baby-making time!
Please. Please.
Think before you speak.
[S.V.P. Bravecog shoves the large box to one side and picks up the torso’s package again. He slides his finger under the tape holding it together, and pours the contents onto his desk.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: So many little parts… I wonder if there’s a- oh, here’s the manual!
[S.V.P. Bravecog picks up the booklet and squints at it.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Let’s see here. Step one… Step one… Step one! Here we go.
“Step one: assemble the spine.”
The spine, huh? That’s not too bad. If I just squint…
[S.V.P. Bravecog sits down at his desk to start his work. As he sifts through the pile of parts, his eyes narrow - trying to make out tiny knobbled shapes among silicone and steel.
Thanks to S.V.P. Bravecog’s wobbly hands, the task takes him half an hour. He’s quiet the entire time; only grunting when he finds a little vertebra to slide across his desk.
Once S.V.P. Bravecog drags out the last piece, he slumps back into his chair with a dramatic huff.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Whew! Just, hah, need a little breather.
Might, hah, need my magnifying glass for, hah, the next part of step one… whatever it is.
[S.V.P. Bravecog picks up the booklet again.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: “Thread the vertebrae together with the bundled nerve wires.”
Okay. Time to play Spin Doctor.
[S.V.P. Bravecog picks up one of the vertebrae and brings it to his eye level.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Gee, that hole’s pretty small. Looks like it's time for me to- WHOOPS!
[The vertebra falls out of S.V.P. Bravecog’s hand and clatters to the floor. S.V.P. Bravecog dives off-screen to look for the piece.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: O-okay, It's not a big deal. If my ears aren’t fooling me, the piece should be over… here? I just need to feel around a bit, and… nothing. Absolutely nothing. No, it must’ve bounced off the bottom of my chair and gone somewhere else.
What about underneath my desk? Surely the piece would’ve landed over here, or here, or… no, it’s not there either. Gosh, this shivering is distracting. I feel like I’ve dragged myself through the Coal & Ice District…
U-um, then… h-how about…
[There’s a small crunch when S.V.P. Bravecog shuffles forward. S.V.P. Bravecog is silent for a few seconds.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Oh no.
Oh no.
September 28th , 2003
Dear Diary,
Stupid, stupid, stupid Allan! You’re the dumbest Suit in the world!! Dumber than a factory Goon without a safety helmet!!!
I broke my baby’s spine. Which means I’ll have to buy a replacement. Which means I’ll have to delay my campaign. Again.
And you know what the worst part is? The crummy cherry on top?! When I called Family Solutions for help, they told me to ship my package back. The customer representative offered me some sugary sympathies, but I knew what that schmuck was really thinking. He thought I was too klutzy - too big and dumb - to build my own child.
I know Janet felt the same way. I read every single comment she made on that VHS transcript. She should be thankful I’m not looking for a new secretary,
So, yes: I raised my white flag and sent the package over.
And I blew a gasket at today’s promotion ceremony.
And everyone noticed.
...Why does Robert keep me around again?
-Allan
Mr. Bravecog,
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have scrawled on your transcript. No explanation could excuse what I did. But…
…Well, I’ll be honest. I’m worried about you.
Me, the executives, the Foreman - even some of the low-level employees - we’ve all noticed things slowing down at HQ. We’re so used to timely factory orders and product shipments that when they’re canceled or delayed… we wonder what’s going on in the office up top, you know? You haven't come out of there since…
…Since last week’s promotion ceremony, actually. I’d never seen you get that angry before. Nobody had. Even your chilliest Cold Callers were shivering on the spot.
I’m not going to make guesses on why you’re acting the way you are. But if I’m part of the problem, you can deal with me however you see fit.
Shave my lunch break to a second, make me a Toon target, put me on paint mixer duty for the next 5 years… Whatever you pick, I promise there’ll be no hard feelings.
- Janet Jennings
P.S.: Oh, just so we’re clear: nobody knows what happened in your video. I intend for it to stay that way. I might be a muckraking Mingler, but I’d never leak anything shared between you and me. Secretary’s duty.
Janet,
If you’re wondering how I sent this message, I found your service Goon loitering outside my office. You’re a smart woman. Fill in the rest.
So, we’re trading honest confessions? Here’s mine. You were, in fact, part of the problem. Your glittery, purple snark added another humiliating cut to the thousands I’ve received these past few months. I don’t need a reminder that I’m dimmer than John, or klutzier than Craig. I know. Just look at the state of my marketing campaign.
You’re wondering why the factories aren’t working anymore? Simple. I’m not giving orders to anyone. In fact, I don’t have the energy to do anything but mope at my desk and zone out to the kitschy pitches of Suitopia Shopping Network. I’d love to get back to work, but getting beaten down again and again… it wears on the old gears, you know?
-Allan
Janet,
Actually, you could do something for me.
Could you… bring something tasty up to the office? I haven’t have anything but filtered cogfee and canned bread this week, and I think the lack of proper meals is driving me nuts.
Thanks.
- Allan
Transcript for [MEETING NAME PENDING]
Monday, September 29th, 2003
C.O.G.S. Sales Department
Head Sellbot Committee
Organics and Biofuels District
The committee met on-schedule at 5:00pm in S.V.P. Bravecog’s office, Sellbot Headquarters.
Present: S.V.P. Bravecog [presiding], Ms. Janet Jennings, Service Goon [transcribing]
TRANSCRIPT
MS. JENNINGS: [muffled] Mr. Bravecog, sir? I’m here.
[The office door doesn’t open.]
MS. JENNINGS: [muffled] I’m at your office door, Mr. Bravecog. Could you open it? I can’t exactly reach the handles when I’m carrying-
[The office door opens automatically.]
MS. JENNINGS: Oh, ha, there we go. Thanks. I’ll just… make my way inside.
[Ms. Jennings slowly walks into S.V.P. Bravecog’s office. Behind her back, she holds a ceramic dish, wrapped in tin foil.]
MS. JENNINGS: [muttering] I should ask him how he automated his doors. Can’t stand those Name Droppers and their constant demands for business lunches.
[Instead of greeting Ms. Jennings, S.V.P. Bravecog stands at the back of his office, silently gazing at his windows. A minute or so passes. Ms. Jennings slowly makes her way beside S.V.P. Bravecog.]
MS. JENNINGS: So.
[S.V.P. Bravecog doesn’t respond.]
MS. JENNINGS: I brought you something to eat. Like you asked. It’s…
...Well. It’s that seven-layer dip you wanted to try. You know, in your-
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Does it have… the peanuts?
MS. JENNINGS: [sighing] Yes. It does.
[S.V.P. Bravecog slowly turns to face Ms. Jennings. He stares.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: [sniffling] May I… have a bit now?
MS. JENNINGS: You’re the boss, not me. But my service Goon brought plates and forks, just in case.
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Janet… I…
[S.V.P. Bravecog bursts into tears. As he sobs, Janet puts the ceramic dish on the window sill. She awkwardly pats S.V.P. Bravecog on the back of his chassis.]
MS. JENNINGS: There, there. It’s just store-bought dip.
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: [sniffling] It’s… it’s not about the dip. It’s me.
These past few months have been awful. Awful! My marketing campaign’s turning pear-shaped no matter what I do. And I’m terrified. What’s Robert going to do to me once he finds out?
Janet, I don’t want to become a pile of screws!
MS. JENNINGS: Couldn’t you, you know, reuse last year’s campaign? I don’t think Mr. Cyger would mind.
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: I know he wouldn’t mind. He told me so himself.
MS. JENNINGS: Huh. Was that back in July, when you were…?
[S.V.P. Bravecog nods.]
MS. JENNINGS: Got it. So what’s the issue?
[S.V.P. Bravecog pinches his brow and sighs.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: I’ve been skirting around something for months and months. The real reason I kept going with all this ridiculousness. And then, a week ago, I realized what it was.
You… you know how I feel about this department, right? How much elbow grease I’ve put into keeping it afloat? I might be a scatter-brained ditz, but I’ve never missed a day of work. Even when I’m undergoing repairs or heading back to New Yoke on holiday, I’m making those sales.
The thing is, I don’t know how long that’ll all last. Right now, I can tolerate the pies and the pitfalls. But someday, something’ll have to give. Something will go wrong. And I won’t bounce back.
And when that happens… who will take my place?
MS. JENNINGS: [muttering] Legacy, huh?
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: There’s this saying I keep on coming back to, you know. “Children are the only form of immortality that we can be sure of.”
I read it in a magazine, decades ago. And I think it sums up how I feel.
MS. JENNINGS: You know, that’s from the guy who played Marcus Pendulumton in “Hot Mill-“
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Oh, really? I love that film! Gives me the warm fuzzies.
MS. JENNINGS: I never thought you’d enjoy something so… gentle.
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: I do! You’d be surprised.
Anyways, that saying… it reminds me that there’ll always be a trace of me in my baby, you know?
So in an ideal world, I’d want them to follow my footsteps. Be the next V.P., when I can’t anymore.
But…
MS. JENNINGS: But what?
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: But at the same time, I don’t… I don’t want to force my baby to do anything they don’t want to do.
If they want to be an artist, I’ll get their work featured in New Yoke’s fanciest galleries. If they hate playing football, I’ll never toss a pigskin to them in the park. And if they don’t want to do anything? I’ll give them everything they need to live a good life.
I want my baby to be happy, not…
MS. JENNINGS: Not like that Anecgloater girl?
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: You know about her too?
MS. JENNINGS: You can’t escape her tours and merch lines back in Chicogo. Makes me wonder how much recharge time she gets every day.
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Not enough, from the looks of it.
MS. JENNINGS: [snorting] Yeah.
But you’re not like the File-Mints, or whatever they’re called. Your kid might be the center of your marketing campaign, but you want them to do what makes them happy - to be happy.
That’s enough proof for me.
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Proof… of what?
MS. JENNINGS: That you'll be a good dad. That’s what you’re really worried about, isn’t it?
[S.V.P. Bravecog stares at Ms. Jennings for a minute. Then, he bursts into tears again.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: [sobbing] Even though I’ve neglected my baby?
I still haven’t bought them clothes, or toys, or books… They don’t even have their own room in my house. And I thought I could build them last week! Most Suits would’ve had that stuff settled already!
MS. JENNINGS: Hold on, Mr. Bravecog. Didn’t you send your kid back to Family Solutions?
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: [sniffling] Y-yes. Why?
MS. JENNINGS: Did they tell you how long it’d take for them to build your baby?
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: ...I think they said two months? They’re juggling a lot of projects right now…
MS. JENNINGS: Okay.
In that case, why don’t you use that time to prepare for their arrival? You’re good at working under tight deadlines.
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: Like with the Field Offices campaign?
MS. JENNINGS: Exactly like the Field Offices campaign. You designed that in, what, a week?
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: I did.
Planning a strict marketing schedule, investigating the most effective locations… A lot happened in those seven days.
MS. JENNINGS: And it was a rip-roaring success!
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: [chuckling] You say that, but no one really uses those offices anymore. Only a handful of Sellbots-
MS. JENNINGS: But if they’re still using them, you did something right.
My point is: you're capable of doing everything in a couple of months. You’re bringing someone new into the world, and you care about that someone so, so much. I know everything will work out for you.
Have a little more faith in yourself.
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: [muttering] You’re too kind, Janet.
MS. JENNINGS: Did that help, Mr. Bravecog? Talking to me, I mean.
[S.V.P. Bravecog stares at Ms. Jennings for a minute. Then, he smiles.]
S.V.P. BRAVECOG: You know what? I think it did.
September 29th, 2003
Dear Diary,
Thanks, Janet. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
-Allan
November 24th, 2003
Dear Diary,
Wow, I haven’t written in this thing in ages! I’ve got a lot of catching up to do…
First, let’s get the big news out of the way. The baby’s arriving next week. Looking back on it, I’m glad I had those two extra months. It was just enough time for me to set up the bedroom, order clothes, and pick the best tools and toys… on top of managing my Sellbots.
I don’t think I’ve felt this tired in years. Janet’s been giving me Robotsa bean coffee to help with my sleepy spells, and I hate the stuff. It tastes like burnt rubber! Sometimes, I just want to flop onto my bed and miss a day or two of work… But I can’t rest - especially now. A new Bravecog is coming into the world, and I want to give them the best introduction I can.
Speaking of the baby… I don't think Family Solutions asked me about their gender.
I mean, it’s not a big deal. Whether they’re a boy or a girl, I’ll love them all the same. But the lack of specifics does make picking a name much harder. Girl Names
Caitlin
Tavia
Teagan
Deirdre
Ceara
Boy Names
Devlin
Cathal
Tavish
Teigue
Verlin
See what I mean? I’ve whittled my list down to ten candidates, but I can only choose one… And I don’t think my baby would want “NAME PENDING” on their build-day certificate.
I’ll let myself chew on it. Maybe I’ll come up with a good idea tomorrow morning.
Oh, one more thing. A couple of days ago, I ferreted out an old, dusty box shoved in the back of my closet. When I opened it, I found my set of heirloom parts. Bravecog bulbs, from my dad.
I don’t remember much of him. My family and I weren’t very close. But I do remember this. My dad presenting the little black box. The warm weight of his hand on my shoulder. His small smile, as he looked at me with fond anticipation.
As if he was telling me; “Use these when the time is right. You’ll know when.”
I think that time is now.
- Allan
nd the wait begins,” Allan sighed, stepping back from the calendar to park himself against a wall. He drummed his fingers against his arm - a rhythmic tap, tap, tap that echoed through the silence of the geometric, gold-embellished entryway.
The e-mail from Family Solutions had arrived while he was filling out paperwork in the office. One cursory scroll through his inbox sent Allan rushing out, clamping his fat leather briefcase shut as he went. A scribbled “Gotta go! It’s here!” on his desk was all he left behind. Hopefully, Janet would understand.
The package was coming. It could’ve arrived on a better day of the week, but it was still coming - to him - today. In a handful of hours, the house would finally have another occupant. His motors whirred with quiet excitement.
A minute passed.
Two.
Then five.
Ten.
Fifteen minutes later, a sudden thud broke the silence. Something had landed on his doorstep. Before the mailman could ring the bell, Allan darted down the hall to greet him.
“Well, hello there!” he grinned, flinging himself through the front door.
The mailman; a reedy, bespectacled Suit with a head of yellowing flimsy, gave him a nervy look. “H-hello, sir.”
“Today’s the perfect day for a delivery, don’t you think? Look at that radiant sunset.”
The mailman’s eyes darted away. “Um… yes. Nice day.”
“And how lucky I am, to receive this package from you! You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting...”
“Uh-huh.”
Beaming with delight, the larger Suit grabbed the box and squeezed it to his chest in a tight embrace. The mailman looked on, trying to process this candid display of joy.
“Aren’t those glowing reds and oranges exquisite?” Allan cried. “They go with the color of this box like a dream!” He twirled on his treads, deadheading the plastic flowerbed by his doorway. A well-timed crouch left the mailman with a light shave.
Catching sight of the cowering courier, Allan stopped in his tracks. Right. That Suit had a job to do. How could he stop him? Still cuddling his box close, he bent down and gestured for the mailman to continue.
“If… if you could sign here, I’d appreciate it,” said the mailman, shaking in the face of such destructive enthusiasm. His quivering hand slipped and fumbled around in his shoulder bag, before re-emerging with a ballpoint pen and clipboard.
Allan’s gleeful grin turned sheepish. “Oh, sorry! I’ll be quick.”
In one, swift movement, he plucked the tiny pen out of the mailman’s hand. Pinching it between his fingertips, he scribbled a signature on the paper. “Is that all you need?”
The mailman picked himself off the ground, dusting off dirt and paper shavings. He glanced over the document before meeting his customer’s gaze again.
“Y-yeah. You’re good to go, Mr., um…”
“Mr. Bravecog!”
“R-right,” the mailman muttered. He opened his hand and timidly beckoned for his stationery. Allan relaxed his fingertips to drop the pen where it was wanted.
“Thank you for your hard work!” beamed Allan, waving him goodbye as he walked off. “Have a good evening, okay?”
The mailman nodded, shaking off any remaining nerves as he went. Once he reached the door of his delivery truck, he stopped. He heaved his shoulders. Then, he turned and gave a brief, delicate wave back.
Allan squinted. He swore he could have also seen a smile.
Once he sent the mailman away with a spirited set of see-you-laters, Allan rushed back into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. There was no time to waste: his project was here! Now he only had to finish it.
After a minute of frantic button-mashing, he called the elevator at the end of the hall and rode to the top floor. Zipping down corridors lined with gaudy statues, sales awards, and the occasional framed poster, he reached his home office. The double doors swung open, and he sped to his desk, arms and package outstretched.
A swipe of the hand scattered bills, sticky notes, and the stray cogolate wrapper to the floor. The cardboard box took their place. Every standing, table, and ornamental lamp in the room was unplugged and maneuvered around the package. On went the switches, and - let there be light! - he was ready to start.
Allan yanked open the drawer underneath his desk, crammed with tools. With some jostling, he soon found his trusty boxcutter. Pressing the side button, he pushed the blade outwards with a little click. Then, he took a deep breath and lined it up against the packing tape that held the cardboard together.
Lights. Camera. Action!
A swift slice sent a flood of packing peanuts over the top of his desk. Allan began digging through the sea of styrofoam. As he searched, the occasional puff or two made its way into his mouth. A motivational snack wouldn’t hurt, he figured.
Minutes passed before Allan struck gold. He grasped something: a mass wrapped in sheets of thin, knobbled plastic. With a tight squeeze, he fished the object out and looked down at his hand. Even bubble-wrapped, the object was no bigger than his palm.
He turned the ball in his hand, looking for a seam. Unlike the box, this was a delicate operation. No mistakes like last time. His fingers chanced on a line of packing tape. Setting the mass down on the desk, he gently pinched the seal and began to peel everything away.
After shucking off layer on plastic layer, Allan found himself holding the tiny, round torso once again. He gave its belly an inquisitive poke. The silicone squished softly under his finger. Now this would be a baby fit for cuddling.
Propping the torso on his palm and pinching it between his fingers, he flipped it over to inspect the back.
Allan gasped.
Through the soft, translucent silicone, he could see that delicate metal spine; vertebrae neatly lined up in a gentle curve. He imagined the dexterity needed to thread them together and shivered. He couldn’t dream of putting such fragile machinery together.
His finger traced to the small of the torso’s back. As ordered, there was a gray, plastic holder; tail docked and stored in a coil. At the end of the coil was a small, purple power plug.
Family Solutions had realized his concepts perfectly.
Allan gave a silent thank you to the company. Carefully, he set the torso down on the table and returned to the box.
Two complete arms emerged in a plastic sachet: capped with tiny articulated hands and fingers. What exciting things would they hold? What would this child get their hands on?
Then came the legs, similarly finished and packaged: round, stubby, and cute. What sort of adventures would this child go on? Where in the world would they take their father?
His hands hit the bottom of the box. He scraped around, searching for the last ordered part. His pinky grazed something hard, and Allan honed in on his final target.
What emerged from the mass of pellets was a black lacquer box. On the lid, the letters “I+R” were embossed in golden, elegant, script.
Allan’s breath caught. He knew what this was.
Flicking the brass clasp, he opened the final piece of packaging. Inside was a tiny, vintage TV set, cradled in velvet. A dark grey chassis with purple embellishments. A wiry pair of receiving antennae, drooping across the face. Two dials for calibration. A thick bundle of video cables tied together at the back. And two holes on top of the head, waiting for that final touch.
Out came the Bravecog bulbs from their heirloom case. The smallest two were selected - one wide and white; one lean and green - and promptly screwed in.
Allan cupped the final piece between his hands, and smiled.
His child’s head was flawless.
Gathering the rest of the parts together, he laid out everything he needed to assemble the body. Taking a tiny arm in one hand, and a tiny torso in the other, Allan got set to work.
With one, heavy, huff, Allan leaned back into his chair. How many hours had passed? Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at his wall clock; its gaudy pendulum swaying back and forth. It was very, very late.
“Wow,” he wheezed. “Who knew building a kid would take so long?”
He turned back to the tiny body in front of him. An unfamiliar wave of anxiety washed through him as he gazed at the little form. In a matter of minutes, his life would change irreversibly.
“But, how to start the process?” Allan wondered to himself, mind half-lucid. Didn’t Family Solutions remember to give him a-
He gave a start. “Shoot! The manual!”
Allan dove back into the package, frantically spading through the styrofoam for something - anything - that felt like a book. No luck. He dug faster and faster, scraping sides, touching the box’s base. Still no luck!
“Oh, screw this!” he cried, and flung the box across his office in a wild arc. As packing peanuts rained over the room, he caught sight of a booklet mid-flight. A thin, brown booklet; large enough to perfectly fit the bottom of the box. Large enough to not be dislodged when its container was thrown about. Almost intentionally designed to be missed by a tired parent-to-be.
Allan wanted to slam his head against his desk.
He rushed over to the box, now crumpled at the far end of his office, and yanked out the manual. There it was: Starting Your New Family Member: A Beginner’s Guide. Bringing the booklet to eye level, he flipped through the pages. “Snapping limbs into sockets?"; been there, done that. “Screwing on the head”; yeah, yeah, get to it!
And then - finally! - he landed on the section he needed: “Startup Sequence.” In a tired, muddled haze, Allan looked through the instructions.
…
Was that it? Reading code out loud?
He followed the phrase written to a T.
#include <iostream>
int main() {
// Program code here
std::cout << "Hello world!";
return 0;
}
It definitely sounded odd. Code phrase had never been his forte.
The air was silent. For a second, Allan wondered if the startup command had even registered.
But suddenly, the monitor flashed a brilliant, sapphire blue. Blocks of white code streamed across the screen. Hardware revved, circuits fired up, and little gears clicked together for the first time.
And then, it went black again.
Allan jolted. Had he said the phrase wrong? Did he damage his child again? Sure, the hardware seemed in order, but what about the software…? He looked at his baby pleadingly, hoping things were alright.
A soft, nearly inaudible hum of electricity broke the tense silence. Allan squinted.
In the center of the monitor, a tiny, white line appeared. It began to move, a gently undulating sine wave of activity. Two parts of the line grew wider, and Allan's CPU sparked.
He was looking into his child’s eyes for the very first time.
The baby gently tilted their head, before laying themself supine on the desk. They seemed tired. Just like him.
“Hello there,” Allan whispered.
As he scooped his child into his palm, they made a soft noise. As they were now, they were only as big as one of his fingers. Allan’s hands cupped protectively around them.
“I didn’t think you’d be so small.”
He looked down and realized the baby had curled into a ball. Fell right asleep, huh? As though they were still listening, he continued, talking to the air.
“You know, I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.
I don’t… have a lot of experience with being a dad. I really don’t. There’s so much I need to figure out, and even more work that’ll come my way. Honestly, I’m excited and scared and overwhelmed, and… Oh, ha, I’m getting tongue-tied.
But, I do know one thing. I want you to be happy.”
The baby’s antennae twitched.
“If… if you’re hungry, I’ll make sure you eat the tastiest meals money can buy. If you’re hurt, I’ll ask the best doctors on my dime to help you get better. And, if you’re ever lonely…”
There was a faint itch at the center of his palm. Allan looked down again, and saw that his baby was still awake - if barely. He leaned down as close as he could, meeting them face-to-face.
“…Tell me. Please, tell me. Because I’ll always be there for you.”
Gently, Allan cradled his hand to his chest, his eyes sinking with exhaustion. The baby leaned against his fingers, nestling into his palm. And on that miraculous night, the two Bravecogs lulled themselves into their dreams, accompanied by the gentle ticks of Allan’s clockwork heart.
Notes:
Happy Father's Day!
I've been working on this project since late February, and it's now here. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing, coding, and making graphics for it.
Special thank you to my twin Clu for betaing my work and creating all of the illustrations. I'm so glad I could work with someone as talented as you.
Also: if any of you are interested in a "behind-the-scenes" chapter for this fic (where I discuss our process and inspirations), let me know in the comments below! I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Chapter 2: It's Family Business: The Postmortem
Chapter Text
The postmortem for It’s Family Business! is finally here!
What’s a “postmortem”?
A breakdown of how I made this fic, from start to finish. It includes drafts, sketches, and a handful of scrapped ideas.
I hope that this postmortem inspires you to make your own story… or at the very least, is interesting to read.
Enjoy!
“Why did you make It’s Family Business!?”
The short answer: To cook my own food.
The long answer: To cook my own food!
The Bravecogs are my favorite characters in ToonTown: Corporate Clash. However, there aren’t many stories about Cathal. Even fewer stories focus on his father, Allan (the Senior VP). As a firm believer of “be the change you want to see in the world”, I took matters into my own hands.
In the Corporate Clash fandom, many believe that Suits build their own children, like in Robots (2004). And when I saw how cute Cathal’s design was, I thought to myself; Did Allan make him that way on purpose?
So with those ideas in mind, I drew this comic.
A lot of people liked it! But I still found myself wanting a proper answer to “Why was Cathal designed like that?”
And that’s how It’s Family Business! began.
Planning It’s Family Business!
To start, I drew a spider diagram. This was where I explored IFB’s central theme; “fatherhood”.
At this stage, I wanted IFB to be about Allan raising Cathal to adulthood, and the many ups and downs that came with that. But I also wanted this project to be manageable, so I shifted the story’s focus to Allan becoming a father.
Within IFB, I wanted to explore Allan’s happiness, fear and ulterior motives behind having a child. I intended IFB to be a happy story, but it’s pretty screwed up for him to make a designer baby as a marketing tactic. Still, that mentality is very Cog-like…
Anyways, as our Senior VP spends more time and money building Cathal, his true feelings begin to show. Since Allan’s a jolly guy, he’s happy that he's having a baby. But he's also afraid of hurting them - because he didn't initially create them out of love. Allan has to grow into the role of a father over the course of the story.
After I drew my spider diagram, I wrote a basic outline for IFB. This was where I made my plot skeleton and set the pacing of the story. Many of the beats here ended up in the final fic!
From there, I brought my outline into Scrivener and began writing the full story.
Writing It’s Family Business!
As with most of my storytelling projects, I wrote three drafts before I completed IFB’s plot.
My first draft, as with most first drafts, was to get words on a page. I didn’t pay attention to character voices or detail consistencies. In fact, some of the scenes were a series of bullet points. One example is the scene in the ending where Allan takes Cathal’s package and runs back to his office. At the time, I couldn't think of any good prose ideas for this scene, so I left it as a series of detailed bullet points.
Then, I took some time away from IFB so that I could come to the second draft with a fresh pair of eyes. The purpose of my second draft was getting my fic from “written” to “well written”. I structured business letters, refined character voices, and fixed awkward speeches. I also turned my bullet-points into proper prose and cut out unneeded pieces of dialogue. This line below is one example.
Once I was satisfied with my rewrite, I gave my fic to my twin Clu for editing. She thoroughly destroyed it.
Then, I handled the third draft. This was where I checked my fic for consistency. I made sure certain minor names were the same, and checked that the timeline I wrote made sense. I should mention that when I wrote IFB, I wasn’t aware of Scrivener’s timeline notecard feature. So I still worry that I mixed up a date or two in the final version of IFB… If I did, I apologize!
After that, the writing was 90% done, and I moved onto the coding/formatting stage. I say 90% done because I’d continue tweaking the fic until it released in mid-June.
Coding It’s Family Business!
Coding could only start once I completed the writing for IFB. Ever since I learned about AO3’s HTML/CSS support, I wanted IFB to be an epistolary story with many formats.
I modified my code off of these tutorials:
• [Base letters code]
• [Lined letters code, (with written comments on top!)]
• [Custom dividers code]
• [Base emails code]
• [Base sticky notes code]
• [Image formatting code]
• [Traditional book formatting code, (with an illustrated initial letter)]
• [Custom Title code] (I also followed this guide to use an image as my title.)
Of all the HTML and CSS I wrote, I’m most proud of the email windows. I referenced old 2000’s email windows to make them feel as accurate as possible.
The tricky part with formatting was implementing it into AO3’s HTML textbox. Because IFB used so many CSS styles, I’d sometimes mess up the formatting when editing my writing. I was also conscious of the time limit I had for IFB’s draft; when you post a draft on AO3, it’s deleted after a month.
Eventually, I found a workaround for the time limit. I saved the code for IFB’s HTML/CSS into a code editor (I chose SublimeText), and then copy-pasted it into a new draft. That way, I could continue where I left off with formatting.
Illustrating It’s Family Business!
I started the illustration process towards the end of IFB's coding stage. I wanted the fic to have illustrations so that readers could view the story from Allan’s point of view.
First, I drew the initial sketches. I set the canvas proportions and drew thumbnails of the scenes I wanted illustrated. Then, I imported these sketches as placeholders, and adjusted IFB's formatting around them.
After that, I asked Clu to make the neat illustrations. We’ve wanted to collaborate on a project for a long time, so I’m glad we could make that a reality here.
She drew the lineart first...
Then passed the .psds to me for greyscale flatting...
...And then I passed the flatted illustration back to her. At this point, she would use a gradient map, paint over the illustration, and add final details.
Finally, I added textural details for certain illustrations (like the transcript photos). These included paper crinkles, drop shadows, and sticky tape; which made them feel real.
Once we completed an illustration, I uploaded it to Imgur and implemented it into IFB.
Conclusion
…And that’s the making of It’s Family Business!
This project was a blast, and I learned a lot from it as a storyteller.
Will I write another TTCC story in the future? I can't make any promises, but there is another tale I want to tell. If it comes out, it’ll serve as a contrast piece to this one. That’s what I’ll say.
But whether that story happens or not, I want to thank everyone for enjoying this story. I’m glad Allan and Cathal could move you in the same way they continue to move me.
Until next time!
-Mado 
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