Bill:
I am not a fan of being told what to do, so when I was told by Vuyelwa that I should write an autobiography so y’all can know me better I originally thought it was a load of crap. But then I got thinkin’, I ain’t got to tell the whole truth when writing this little tale of myself. For all you know, I am a humble southern gunslinger Grandpa that can hit a target the size of a pea at 300 yards with a Colt Python firing up a slope. Who also happens to have a penchant for communication with all types of people, some savory like a juicy steak and others so unsavory that most just call them a peach, while also being the best Fixer on this team. I could say all that, but instead, I’ll start with the truth.
I AM a humble southern gunslinger Grandpa that can hit a target the size of a pea at 300 yards with a Colt Python Revolver firing up a slope, who also happens to have a penchant for communication with all types of people, some savory like a juicy steak and others so unsavory that most just call them a peach, while also being the SECOND best Fixer on this team. Screw you, Frank. I also happen to be a great pilot which tends to come in handy when you have to get around the world every other dang week.
After doing some preliminary and extensive research on writing biographies they all seem to say I should start with where I was born, so here ya go. I was born in Dallas Texas, the best city, in the best state in the best country on the planet, to a caring father and mother who loved me dearly until the days they died. We lived about 30 miles from the city on a family-owned ranch with all the fixin’s you would expect on a Texas farm. Animals, barns, and plenty of siblings, seven, in fact, to take care of said ranch and farm. It was a nice childhood, to be honest, and I am not going to complain about it, and I have been told that people don’t like being told, “Dang, I had a great life” so we will simply move on from childhood and into more interestin’ topics.
As soon as I graduated High School I joined the Army. I excelled during basic, and shortly after was allowed to join the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, or more commonly called, The Night Stalkers. By the age of 28, I was the head of the Regiment and led 15 black ops missions in Afghanistan, Iraq, and the USSR. Over time I began to build relationships with those previously mentioned unsavory individuals, some of them foreign, many of them not.
I had no problem with selling arms and munitions to the highest bidder at the time because it was in the name of ‘freedom.’ We were fightin’ the commies! That is what high command told me. It’s what I told my squad. It’s what I told myself. That was until March 23rd, 2003.
It was the height of the Iraq war. Higher command had a typical job for us. They told us to bomb a building with terrorists. It was easy enough. We even finished before dinner time. It was ‘Taco Tuesday.’ I remember very clearly because that was when one of my men, tears in his eyes said something that fractured my soul. He said he didn’t see any terrorists running out of the building. He saw kids. I strong-armed my commanding officer right then and there into telling me, and that's when we all learned that what we bombed, even though high command said they had us do it with 80% certainty, wasn’t a terrorist den. It was a school.
We didn’t finish our meal. We didn’t sleep. Instead, we went into not-so-enemy territory and tried our best to fix what we could. Of course, we were told not to do this, that we would be court-martialed and dishonorably discharged. Some of my men didn’t come. Some even had the gall to say they were doing God's will and wiping out the next batch of terrorists. Me, already well into the crapper, punched them in the face before we left. Most of my men, however, came with me to the school, and we started to clean the mess we made. Try and help the lives we ruined. We were glared at, cursed at, and even shot at while we labored and moved the bricks. I told my men we wern’t leaving until we found every body, dead or alive, and got them to their families. They nodded towards me with a sad silence. They all knew we would be working all night, most likely all week, but for once, we all knew we were doing something right.
It took about 3 hours until we started to hear the cries for help. They were in Arabic of course, but people screaming for help and I were pretty well acquainted by now, so I understood. By then many of the parents and local members of the community started to help.
Now, I don’t know if you believe in some kind of God out there, and quite frankly, I don’t really care. Cause I do, and this is why. After about an hour more of digging in that rubble, we found 13 kids and a single Iraqi teacher alive under it all. In fact, these were the only people who didn’t get out of the school before the bomb was dropped. You see, this teacher’s classroom was in the worst possible position, right in the middle of the school with no windows. They didn’t hear the sirens until it was too late, so they decided to go to the nearest bathroom for cover. He had his students duck and cover and remarkably this silly bathroom must have been pumpin’ holy water ‘cause it was the only thing that was left fully intact. They were under three stories of concrete and would have never been found in time if we didn’t come back.
We stayed for several more months and we built that school up, back to its former glory, better even. I had plenty of money earned from my career, so I finally started to use it. After we finished up we heard that the next town over just got hit by more bombs, and I guess we just couldn’t help ourselves. Some did go back home, many stayed with me. We went to the next town, and the next, and the next. Fixing what we could.
As we went, we kind of got a following. People who lost their homes and loved ones to war stayed with us. That teacher that we “saved,” and some of the kids who had lost their loved ones stayed with us too, two of them, eventually became our kids. Yeah, that’s right. We didn’t tie the knot till we got to the states, but that teacher and I are happily married to this day. Yeah, I’m as straight as a horseshoe, but I ain’t no wussy. And neither is Kahled. We worked our butts off fixing what we could until we realized we had to get the kids somewhere safer than a warzone, and that’s where we met Frank.
It was sometime in late 2004 when he offered to help. We met on a mission trying to fix up some territory just out of Baghdad. He made the offer to get us back to the States so that we could raise our boys in some type of piece. We both agreed reluctantly but made him swear that once our kids were grown we could help him with his crazy ideas of fixing the world and that smug jerk smiled as if he expected no other response.
So, about 10 years later the kids are both out of high school, going into college and their careers. Abbas had just graduated as an Aerospace Engineer from MIT and is currently working for NASA on some of the largest rockets that are gonna take us to Mars someday, and Salah is still in school working towards becoming a doctor. Says he wants to run the Peace Corps someday, and with his ambition, I don’t doubt it. Yeah, my kids are great and I ain't gonna say they aren't just so y’all can feel better about your lack of accomplishments.
Anyway, it was about 10 years later when we gave Frank a ring, and the rest is history. Me, Kahled, and Frank worked together for several years. Fixing what we could, and when we needed more specialized people we got the third and fourth best Fixers on the team. In 2018 however, things started to get a tad spicy. Abbas and his wife got pregnant and had the most beautiful baby girl that this green earth has ever seen.
That is unfortunately when Kahled left the team. I couldn’t blame him either though, because if he didn’t. I would have. Abbas and his wife needed a sitter for a few days out of the week and Kahled won the coin flip to see who gets the new job. I still visit as often as ever though, and Frank knows that when we fly anywhere, we seem to stop in Texas first. Being the team pilot does have its perks.
Now that’s my story, so stop askin’ more questions.
Vuyelwa:
If I were to tell you my whole story, then we would be here all day. Thus, I shall keep it concise.
{
date_of_birth: ‘1998-10-2’,
place_of_birth: ‘Pretoria, South Africa’
race: ‘Black’
height: 1.91 /* I refuse to change to Imperial */
hair_color: ‘black’
fixer_ranking: 2
}
“We must fix the most broken things, for everyone else is too blind to see they are broken” -- The Handymen of Mystery
I first read this quote while sitting in the library of Pretoria trying to discover what it meant. I was only 13 and thought I could change the world. I knew early on that when the Handymen of Mystery set the coding challenge out to the world that I Vuyelwa Naidoo would be the one to solve it.
I solved it in less than seven hours.
My story starts from dark beginnings. I was born to my mother and father, I shall not divulge names, who shortly after died in a car accident on their way home from a date away from their crying baby. I was fortunate to be welcomed to stay with my grandparents. They were forced to live on the outskirts of Pretoria due to Apartheid in 1965. I have been told my parents were kind, and gentle, but fierce when needed. My grandmother always says it is where I got my calm-headed but determined nature. I like to believe this is true.
I received my first computer from my school when I was eight years old. Well, I received a broken computer from the school, but I was able to repair it easily. That computer became my escape. I learned to program from the bottom up, starting with hardware, moving to binary, to Machine Language, to Assembly Language to everything else like C, Pascal, FORTRAN, and every other language above it.
The library was my way to the internet allowing me to read and download new materials whenever needed. By 12 I was already writing programs that passed the Turing test, by 15 I had graduated high school, and by 17, college with a degree in computer science. Once I turned 18 I started in the private sector writing programs and creating some of the most advanced AI on the planet.
When I started I was told where my programs were going to help bring water to people. I wrote to break into a new space and progress in the computer science field while also assisting those who were less fortunate. I should have known that what I was working for would never be used to help.
Harmsworth Water Co.
Email:
To: “Stewart Rogers”
From: “Herbert Harmsworth”
Cc: “Tech Project”
Date: “2018-10-2”
Subject: “Kill the bastards”
Frankly, Stewart, I don’t give a damn what you do. Kill ‘em all if you have to. The bastards don’t pay their taxes anyway. Who in the hell is going to notice? The cops? We’d be doing ‘em a favor. The money I’d lose if we stop this deal isn’t worth a few poisoned, worthless wastrels in Pretoria. Get those water lines in yesterday or your career is going to that coloured mastermind in tech.
Your Paycheck,
Herbert Harmsworth
All it takes is one mistake from your CEO accidentally cc’ing you in an email to make you aware of the tinted glasses you have been wearing. I should have knew the company was corrupt from the beginning. I was so naive. It was the perfect rug, a non-profit company bringing water to the previous apartheid settlements of South Africa, and the government money, the perfect broom to sweep the vile under it.
His accounts were frozen by the next day. They were relieved of their contents the next. I did not turn him in, I did not oust him for his crimes. He said it there, the cops would not do anything. No, I decided to... fix him, in a way, or at least make his company what it should have been. I hacked into his email and was privy to an abundance of incriminating emails that I simply used to blackmail him into compliance. He had no money now, and with no money, he lost his power.
The apartheid districts now have some of the cleanest water on the planet. I made sure Harmsworth and I were there for every construction. I made him interact with the people he was helping. I made him realize that he could do well for the world. I even introduced him to my Grandparents. They made him a true Afrika-style meal. I think he forgot why he started his business in the first place, or maybe he never knew why.
He lives in a small house now. In a pre-apartheid settlement near Pretoria. No, I did not force him there as some form of revenge. He chose it. I know you may disagree with me, but his accounts are unfrozen, and I gave him back full control of his company. His account has never been smaller and his smile has never been wider. It may be called a young woman’s foolish hope to believe someone can change, but even if it only works one percent of the time, isn’t it still worth it?
It took 4 more companies and a near-assassination attempt on my life before the handymen of mystery contacted me. They had been keeping tabs on me since I was 15 and solved their puzzle. Being 25 at the time it floored me when I saw an Arabic man in the park flash me their symbol and challenge me to a game of chess.
“We all are broken in some way that may be fixed,” he said to me in a calm voice
As I moved my first pawn I replied simply “But only if we see the problem are we able to fix it.” It was a simple keyphrase they used often during their minor amount of contact with the world.
“What breaks you?” Once again his voice was so soothing, not in a way that felt as if he wanted to manipulate you, but more in a way that made you feel like you were with a long-lost friend and were just catching up.
“I see the world for what it is,” I responded more coldly than intended as I took several of his pieces. Surprisingly, he was not particularly skilled at chess. Making moves only a novice would. “And I want to fix it knowing that it is impossible, knowing that nothing I do will truly 100, 10, or even 5 years from now mean anything. I still want to fix the world. Help its people.”
“A good answer, but I believe you have not found the full truth, yet.”
“What has broken you?” I quickly ask while taking his queen. It sounded like he might leave so I wanted to keep him there and convince him that I was worth it.
His smile flickered and his eyes dropped to the game board below. He would tell me later that a possible recruit had never asked this of him before.
He thought for a moment, moved his piece, and sighed as sullenly saying, “I used to recruit kids to the Taliban.” He said it so bluntly, and with a deadness that seemed to silence the world in a bubble around him. “I was told we were fighting for freedom, for our home, for God. I realized soon after what Hussan was using the boys for, left, taking as many as I could with me, and started over. I even became a teacher, and my past is probably why they dropped a bomb on the school where I worked, killing two of my students. I ask that you do not tell Bill that last part, it will break him more than he already is.” He looked at me with that calming smile again, revealing a deeper and darker past than before. “That is why I am broken, and why I must fix the world we live in.” He then moved one last piece putting himself in check, got up, and walked away from the table.
I was stunned for a few moments but I shouted after him. “Did I pass your test!”
He shouted back, “Of course Vuyelwa! But will you take it?”
I looked at him confused as he walked away. Then back at the board, my queen was in the perfect place to take his king. So, I took it.
Chiyoko:
Panel 1: This poster
Panel 2: A crying woman hands her daughter off to a captain of a ship. A caption reads 1980
Panel 3: Pan out to see that the ship has Japanese characters on it.
Panel 4: City skyline with two blurbs at the bottom right that reads: Tokyo. 35 years later.
Panel 5: See a woman at a desk wearing a helmet and goggles with several other papers (passports) around her showing a variety of languages including Japanese, Chinese, English, Spanish etc.
Panel 6: A door with sound lines, saying ‘knock’, ‘knock’
Panel 7: (Translated to English) The same door with a speech bubble saying “Takahashi Chiyoko! Open the door, we know you’re in there! We have a warrant for your arrest and the search and seizure of goods.”
Panel 8: Chiyoko’s phone vibrates with a message.
Panel 9: Reveal the phone with a message from the “Handyman that never takes the hint.” and a text saying, ‘You are a perfect fit for the Handymen of Mystery’ And showing that she replies in all lowercase lettering. ‘no.’
Panel 10: Cut back to the door. “We will use forced entry if needed! On the count of 3! One! Two!...
Panel 11: Show the door click and slowly slide open with no one actually opening it. Having a thought bubble of the cops thinking, “She’s opening the door willingly?”
Panel 12: Show the cops coming into the room
Panel 13: Same shot as the last panel but panned back looking through the room from an open window.
Panel 14: The cops are all looking around the room with one at the window with a surprised look on his face. “Boss, Umm, I found her.”
Panel 15: A perpendicular zoom-out with the building on the left side of the frame and a very small speck flying with a wingsuit in the center of the frame.
Panel 16: Chiyoki flying through the air with goggles, a helmet, a wingsuit, and a parachute pack. She also has a patch on her belly for additional items.
Panel 17: She flies toward a building with a helicopter pad, and a helicopter landed on it.
Panel 18: She has her parachute open now and is landing on the pad.
Panel 19: Combined panel one showing her click a bottom and the other showing the parachute ziiiiiip back into her backpack.
Panel 20: The helicopter propellors are starting to spin as Chiyoko boards the vehicle.
Panel 21: The helicopter takes off, and Chiyoko removes her goggles and helmet takes a seat, and buckles up with the headphones on. (This is probably two or three panels. Oh well)
Panel 22: Chiyoko pulls out a Manga from her bag and starts to read it. Block with ‘10 minutes pass.’
Panel 23: She peaks over the manga, looking at the pilot. He’s a man who looks to be in his mid-50s with white hair and a trimmed mustache and beard. Wearing a cowboy hat under his headphones, a revolver at his waist, and a piece of hay hanging out his mouth between his teeth.
Panel 24: “Now I know I ain’t the pilot you been expectin’, but I want you to know that I am up for the task,” Break in the speech bubble, seeing that Chiyoko has her helmet and googles back on. “Hey wait there a darn minute we just wanna.. What in tarnation?”
Panel 25: Same as before, but no text, and Chiyoko has jumped out of the plane. Bill says: “Well you were right about her not noticing me for a while boss, but she’s as crazy as a soup sandwich if you catch my meanin’”
Panel 26: A voice coming in through the headphones. “Hence, she will fit right in.”
Panel 27: Chiyoko standing in a Japanese Jungle cutting away tangles from her parachute.
Panel 28: She looks at her phone, it says no signal and she is sighing. A thought bubble “This will set me back weeks.”
Panel 29: A voice right next to her in the jungle, covered by foliage. “You know, predictability will get you swiftly caught.” Chiyoko jumping back in surprise.
Panel 30: A man with short white hair, a monocle, pristine handle-bar mustache, dazzling 1940s British attire, and a toolbelt, reveals himself from the foliage.
Panel 31: “The name is Francis Ivo Xavier, my dear, and I am truly humbled to make your acquaintance.” He proffers his hand inviting her to shake it.
Panel 32: She looks down at the hand.
Panel 33: She turned and walks away. Francis has a queer smile on his face, however, as he also begins to turn and follow her.
Panel 34: They are now walking side by side, Francis begins his soliloquy. “I dare not say that I need to remark on your talents, however, that is exactly what I shall do. I know that you have been helping young girls from China abandoned by their families at birth. Making some of the best forgeries the world has ever seen. I know that you have been the one using your artistry to fix the defaced murals around Tokyo, China, and Vietnam. I even know about your foray into treacherous North Korea, writing reports and Passports for hundreds to escape to the United States, and China. “
Panel 35: “...” from Francis. Chiyoko then gives him a placid look. “So I don’t need you.” She finally says.
Panel 36: “You are correct Chiyoko. But I, need you.”
Panel 37: She turns away and they both start walking through the forest in silence.
Panel 38: They pass a broken-down Jizo statue along their path. Francis stops, but Chiyoko carries on. Frank says, “Should we not fix this?”
Panel 39: Chiyoko turns around, with her brow furrowed, a frown, and vicious eyes toward Francis. “You see Francis, this is why I will never join your ‘team’ of Francis-worshiping cronies. I want to help people! You all just have a compulsion to fix anything and everything. You don’t care about people. Fixing some random statue that people have not passed in half a millennium. What a waste of time.”
Panel 40: “Is that what you really think we do?” His face looks at her as she walks away. His face is sullen.
Panel 41: Chiyoko turns and begins to walk while Francis is seen picking up stones in the background fixing the statue.
Panel 42: We see Chiyoko approaching the town that Francis had mentioned. We also see that the helicopter that Bill was driving earlier is in the small village.
Panel 43: Chiyoko sees many young children running toward the helicopter shouting “Jizo Man! Jizo Man!”
Panel 43: Chiyoko sees Bill and Kahled handing out food and rations to the villagers outside of the helicopter. Children shouting with glee, “Jizo man! Jizo Man!”
Panel 44: A young Black woman stands behind her phone typing and says “We have been making drops here for over a year. These people were abandoned over 300 years ago. The government does not even know they exist. “ Chiyoko responds “That can’t be true? How did they survive?”
Panel 45: “The earthquake? The Typhoon? Many did not. I found them using a geospatial analysis of Japan when... well, looking for you. We discovered that this small mountain valley had people disconnected from the outside world. We had a long debate on whether or not we should disturb a civilization unmarked by outside forces for so long. Francis, noticed they were suffering, and it did not take long to persuade us along.’
Panel 46: This is just a big wall of text for foreshadowing “They call him Jizo man because that is how he convinced them to let him help. Every time we come, we fix one statue and bring back provisions for the families. He treats them as if they were all his own children. I know for a fact he has none of his own.”
Panel 47: We see Francis coming out of the jungle, covered in dirt and grim, his fancy outfit torn and mangled. His hands are immensely calloused, we did not notice that before. Kids run up toward him shouting “Jizo Man, Jizo Man!”
Panel 48: We do a close-up of Francis as he looks directly at the reader and Chiyoko. He gives us a defiant smile.
Francis:
14th of December, 1984
So we have been trying for about 5 months now, and my mother told me that “You better keep a journal darling! Or you’ll forget all the "best moments" like I did, and then allofa sudden you’ll have six kids like me!” So, here we go this is the start of my pregnancy journal. We are starting to get a tad discouraged after five months, but I think that that is okay. I have read that it takes most women an average of six so I am not too worried yet. Francis keeps telling me before he goes to work on his carpentry that it will happen when it happens, and not to worry. But hopefully, my next entry will be a happy one!
20th of June, 1985
Well, it has officially been one year since we started. Francis and I went to a specialist my gynecologist recommended so that he and I could get tested for possible issues. The results are due in two weeks so hopefully, that will provide some answers.
31st of July, 1985
The results came in today. Apparently, we both have problems. Francis has what is called oligozoospermia or something like that, which means he has not have enough little wankers in his nether regions, and I have polycystic ovary syndrome, which means that even if one of his little men can make it, when it does, my body wants to get rid of it. Our doctor suggested that we should consider adoption. Francis however, was immediately against the idea for some unknown reason. I have noticed that he cannot stand being unable to fix a problem like this. He has started to read advanced literature on medicine and obstetrics to try and find some way to ‘fix’ it. I think this will be my last entry for a while. I have noticed that completing these writings is taking a toll on me.
21st of September 1994
IT HAPPENED! I cannot believe it! I noticed that I missed my period and the first thing I actually thought was that I may have early onset menopause before I even considered that I may be pregnant. When I told Frank he thought I was playing a cruel joke, but then I just smiled, and then he wrapped his arms around me and cried. HE CRIED! He is such a softie when it comes to this stuff. But that’s not it. He went into his shop and grabbed a small wooden Queen’s Gaurd man, with the big black bonnet and everything. He said that he would be making more so that our little one would feel protected. He said the next thing would be a crib, then a bassinet, then a changing table, then a swing set! I think he may even be more excited than me! I am just happy I finally will get more use out of this journal!
P.S. The due date is 28th of May 1995!
31st of September 1994
I hate this so much. Who in their right mind thought getting pregnant was a good idea? I haven’t stopped vomiting since the 25th. Also, the person who penned the name “morning” sickness clearly was a man, but I guess “all blastin’ day please stop sickness” wasn’t nearly as catchy. I also learned that my baby is the size of a peanut! It blows my mind how that will soon grow into a baby bouncing on my lap. I accidentally let it slip to Maria at the office today. Okay, I didn’t really let it slip, but just told her. She was writing an article on pregnancy and needed inspiration, so stop judging me future me.
Francis seems to be getting restless however, he finished everything that he set out to build last week... last week minus three days ago, and now seems to want to build more. He says he's going to look into building more for babies that aren’t so lucky. He is such a good man. I don’t know what I would do without him. But now I have to vomit again so I guess I will write again after my next appointment.
26th of December 1994
Firstly, I would like to say thank you for the second trimester. NO MORE PUKING! I looked in the mirror on Christmas morning and I could swear I was glowing (No it definitely WASN’T the new lights that Frank installed, which reminds me that I need him to stop wasting our money on putting lights up for free in other people's houses around the neighborhood). Also, I am told that the baby is the size of a lemon now, which is a strange comparison because being pregnant has never felt so sweet. There is one more thing though! I started feeling butterflies in my stomach and maybe even a KICK!
20th of March 1995
Being pregnant is awful again. It’s so blasting hot! All the Time! Also, my back always hurts, I can’t see my toes, and I look like a beached whale penguin hybrid when I walk. I also can’t sleep because every night I feel like the bloke from Alien, you know the one with the alien that blew up out of his stomach? I told Francis to fix the air conditioning, but he so kindly informed me that we live in England and don’t have air conditioning. Dang fool with his geographical logic nonsense. I told him that if he wanted to ever see me naked again, then he better wise up quick.
20th of March 1995 cont.
WE NOW HAVE AIR CONDITIONING and it is a wonderful and crisp 12.2 degrees.
18th of May 1995
I think today's the day. I called Frank and he is on his way so I decided to write one last time before he picks me up. I didn’t sleep a wink last night and feel as if I am running off of adrenaline alone. I noticed quite a bit of blood, but it seems normal. I wish Frank would hurry up. Bless that man, but he never knows when to stop fixing things, even if he shouldn’t.