Downtime 5 - Sun

Sun takes both drysuits from the salesman and looks them over. He then hands both back.

"These both have the same model number. See, on the tag here? They're the same. Are you trying to get me killed or what?"

"I can tell you don't get paid anything. You poor guy don't even have money to buy a shirt."

Sun puts 50 nuyen in the salesman's hands.

"Here, at least you don't have to starve today."

Looking around, Sun spots a rack with drysuits, clearly the same model as the two previous ones, and a shelf with armored diving gear next to it. He walks to the armored gear, takes a pack out and puts it next to a diving suit he got from the rack, stroking his beard while comparing the two.

Sun gets out his commlink. After reaching an electronic voice telling the time after the beep, the Association of Associated Associates, some guy thinking Sun's his girlfriend's secret lover, an old lady who insists she's talking to Susan and keeps asking how the kids are doing, the Center of Telemarketeers, and something that screeches a high-pitched sound in his ear, going PRRRRT WEEEYUUUUU WEEWEEWEEWEE, Sun finally manages to make a video call to Fuchou. Chou's screen currently shows part of an ear, a tuff of hair, and a sectional ceiling.

"Hello? Chou? Hello? Hello? Chou? Are you there? Chou? Hello? Are you there? Hello? Are you there? Chou? Hello? Chou? Hello? Hello? Chou? Chou? Are you there? Hello?"
After a few minutes of this, and being profoundly confused about why Chou would answer the call and then not reply, Sun decides to hang up.

He then calls Sam.
"Hello, this is Sanji. Sun? How many times did I tell you not to make pocket calls to me!"
"I'm not making a pocket call, Sanji! I'm deliberately calling."
"Alright man. What can I do for you?"
"Nothing. Got the wrong number. Sorry!"

Sun hangs up and tries again, finally managing to actually call Sam.

Sam answers the call, expecting to hear the muffled sounds of Sun's pocket. "Hello?"

"Hey Sam! I need your expertise on something. You see, I'm looking for diving gear, and I want to make sure I don't die in literal crap. See these two suits here?"

Sun aims the camera of his commlink to the drysuit, and then the diving armor. The first shows like a bit of sleeve and cuff, way too closeby. Then camera then swerves with a sudden jerk to the diving armor, which shows in the call as a corner of the collar, in the bottom edge of the screen, the rest being wall. The screen then suddenly jerks in another direction and there's a view up Sun's nose, between a forest of beard hair, as he holds the commlink against his chin to talk into it.

"Will either one of these have me die in literal crap?"

"I have never been diving, Sun. I do not know anything about diving suits. Where are you? Chad's Surf 'n' Stuff? Wait a moment."
Sun sees a flurry of activity on his commlink as Sam performs a matrix search, quickly scrolling through and tabbing amongst multiple sites.
"Many of the reviews people have posted for that store mention that the staff is particularly friendly and knowledgable. Have you tried asking for help from a clerk there? Many of the reviews mention a particular clerk by name. They say that Drew knows all there is to know about diving accessories. One poster even left a picture of Drew. You should find out if he is working, and ask for his opinion. Here is his picture:"
Sun's commlink screen is suddenly filled with a picture of a shirtless man:

There's a moment of silence. For a second, Sun seems to be starting making a sentence, then goes silent again. Another moment of silence. Then finally, Sun speaks again.

"He told me this suit would make me die in literal crap ... ..."
There's some grumbled mumbling that's too silent to understand.
"Alright, Sam. I'll ask him again and will see if maybe there's a trick to avoiding dying in literal crap when wearing the suit he recommended. Thanks for your help!"
There's a beeping tone signifying Sun hung up, yet somehow the video still shows. Sam sees Sun obviously holding his commlink in one hand, the other hovering over it as he pushes the screen several times with his thumb before the video feed closes as well.

Looking back to the sales clerk, Sun tries his best to look friendly, even though he doesn't like going back on the conversation they had before. The result is a rather terrifying grimace.

"Dreeeeeeew, buddyyyyy heeeeey how ya beeeeeen. You know any way for this drysuit to not get me killed? You're a smart fellow who knows his stuff, you're bound to know how I can use this without lethal consequences."

Fuchou notices that Sun called him after a day and calls him back. He relates that he knows nothing of diving gear as well...

Sun's commlink is laying in the palm of his hand. It's obviously supposed to be flat, but due to the size of the hand, it's become slightly curved. Where the screen isn't touching the casing anymore, at the apex of the curve, the gaps are closed with duct tape. The duct tape has been coming loose again, and has been reattached with some glue. There are several dents along the side, especially wherever buttons, like the power button, are, all roughly the size of Sun's fingers. Here and there, the screen itself seems dented as well. A tiewrap is looped through the keychain hole. several post-it notes, laminated and ringed, with step by step instructions dangle from the tiewrap.

Sun looks at his commlink, at the lights that flash on it, and his shoulders slump. He drops all attempts to save face, and simply stares at his feet.

"Are there many electronics in the drysuit? And can I accidentally mess them up in any way? I'm not terribly good with tech, so the less that can act up or break, the better."

Sun looks a bit uncomfortable at the sound of all that tech.
"Ummm... well... If I can't mess with them, y'know if they're autonomous, maybe it can work. When can we start the classes?"

Sun fits a few drysuits, finding one that fits, before paying and leaving, with the drysuit. He runs to the community center, hoping to find Sam there, to help him with the form he has to fill out, in the meantime checking the laminated notes for any explaining how to print that waiver, so he can fill it out on paper.

Sun pays and makes his way to the community center, to look for Sam's help with the form.