Introduction

I hesitated to complete this task, for a couple of reasons.

First of all, it seems like a bad idea to create tasks which can only be completed by a single person. (Or in this case a couple hundred people during any given era, only one of whom actually plays sf0, as far as we know.) I was really surprised to see it approved, and I suspect it was done as a favor to someone rather than because SSI thought it was a good idea.

Second, giving out extra points for tasking in an interesting place is crazy. We ought to be doing exactly the opposite! If someone's going to get metatask points based on geography, it really ought to be Fresno Zero. (I refuse to acknowledge Great Yarmouth as a boring place, since every single person I know from there is brilliant and creative.)

On the other hand, rather a lot of people went to some trouble to cause this task to exist. One person proposed it, someone else out of his way to petition the admins to approve it, the admins did so, and several have messaged me in private encouraging me to complete it. In the face of all that kindness, it seems incredibly rude to not submit something here. So, I'm going to do so.

All that remains is deciding which task to submit. I'd feel bad about submitting something lame and barely worth 15 points after all the trouble people went through on my behalf. On the other hand, I don't really have the time or materials for anything epic here. As a compromise, I'm instead going to submit four ordinary, straightforward task completions.

Following Flitworth's example - which, if you ask me, has redeemed the metatask - I'm submitting these only here.

Now, on to the tasks.

Sundial-I

The nice thing about a sundial here is that it works around the clock, and you don't have to bother coming up with a scheme to hold your dial at a specific angle. (The sun here just circles around once a day at the same height in the sky.)

The problem is that you need something other than a compass to orient it. It turns out that several buildings here, including the ones in which I sleep and work, all have stair rails aligned in precisely the same direction, making a convenient direction indicator for my sundial.

Now, the idea of a portable sundial (borrowed from Sundial-II, which I'm not qualified to complete) immediately brings two thoughts to mind. The first is that people have been making incredibly precise portable instruments which serve the same purpose for centuries. Making an astrolabe could be fun, but to make it a fulfilling task you'd need to either make it out of some very strange material (eg. butter) or construct something with impressive precision.

The second thought - or image, really - is a classic garden sundial strapped to a person's wrist like a wristwatch. This is, of course, absurd. A wrist-strap is perhaps the least useful place you could stick a sundial, and the image only makes any sense at all in a world of electromechanical wrist-watches. I'm generally a fan of the absurd, especially when tasking, so I chose this second version.

I started out with more elaborate plans for this and wound up putting it off for a whole month. Finally, I decided something quick and easy had the advantage that I'd actually do it. With only two days remaining before I had to leave, the weather began to turn, and clouds made the shadows hard to see in person and almost impossible to see in photos. I was, however, able to capture a few images.

What surprised me is that, even though the idea of a wristwatch sundial is absurd, it's actually quite a bit more accurate than I expected. To use it, you simply set your wrist on a stair rail of one of the properly oriented buildings, arrange the flat so it is horizontal, and arrange the wrist strap so that it is perpendiculat to the railing.


I tried a few nearly blind experiments, using the sundial to get the time after spending several hours with no clock. In both cases, I was good to within half an hour. (Both "straight up" and "perpendicular that other thing" are relationships humans seem to have a talent for determining by eye.

2.Secret Egg

I had no plans to complete this task, until I came across a box labeled "easter eggs" in a storage area. Seemed too good to pass up. So, I took four of them and filled each with a souvenier. (My natural instinct would be to use candy, but in a place where there are free fresh-baked deserts available round the clock, finding candy isn't all that exciting.)

In software, an secret egg (or an "easter egg" as it's usually called) rewards the user for doing something unusual: going some place they aren't supposed to go, entering a key combination that one never has a reason to use, etc. I figured a real life secret egg ought to do the same. It turns out there are many interesting places one isn't supposed to go here, but very few which it is wise to discuss in a public, online forum. So, I went for the slighly out-of-the-way rather than the forbidden.

One egg was taped to the backside of a desk drawer. One was nestled in a beam supporting the roof of an unused building. I couldn't resist placing one under a stuffed bird. This stretches my definition of a real life secret egg, but seemed worthwile anyway. Finally, realizing that I still had one unplaced egg and minutes to board a plane, I threw one onto the top of a ceiling high stack of janitorial supplies in a restroom cubbard.

3. Escape from the camera.

Nothing fancy here. Always wanted to do a straightfoward completion of this task, but I've got big plans cooking for a much weirder version and which has kept me from completing it. Here's a three second version and a ten second version.


The Beauty of the other 71\%

I saw JJason's completion of this task and was so impressed by the transparent hand image that I immediately began collecting used latex gloves and filling them with water. After a couple hours outside, the latex peels away to reveal wonderfully creepy hand sculptures.



At least, that's the idea. Turns out they're pretty fragile, and it's hard to peel them without breaking off fingers. I started with 16 hands, and wound up with only six good ones by the end. I expect a quick dip in hot water prior to peeling would help, as would not trying to peel them while wearing bulky gloves. (Question: Why the hell didn't you come inside to peel them? Answer: 'cause I'm dumb.)


None the less, the six surving hands are interesting enough on their own. I've left them sticking out of a snow-bank near a heavily traveled route.

Closing Notes

I'm going to be away from computers for a couple weeks. See you (all of you online, many of you I hope in person) in early march.