Colonel McTavish
District 10, South Africa
June 11th, 2013
1330 Hours
About five hundred metres from the perimeter of District 10 was the MNU mercenary facilities, consisting of a few barracks and other typical amenities (mess hall, sick bay and so forth). The largest of the buildings was the reasonably sized estate that was nestled against a hill, belonging to a certain Colonel George McTavish. It was a typically white and grey double-storey house, complete with a swimming pool and well-trimmed lawn. It provided a sharp contrast to the yellow desert grass that went on throughout the countryside.
The house was home to the ageing and somewhat disgruntled Colonel, as well as home to a few of the higher-ups who worked at the District. They even had servants, prawn servants of course since human ones went out a number of years ago. Currently the greying-haired Colonel was seated by the swimming pool, dressed in a set of bright yellow board shorts and a blue Hawaiian shirt. He lay back on a seat by the pool, taking in the bright sunshine of the South African countryside while awaiting the arrival of the drinks he had told one of the servants to go and get him. He checked the antique watch he wore on his left wrist (his grandfather had given him that watch, it was worth a fortune) and saw that it was about one thirty in the afternoon. No doubt that specialist team from MNU would be arriving soon. Should he go and get dressed into something more suitable? He reached the conclusion that if they wanted to speak to him they could meet him out here.
Colonel McTavish had served in the British SAS and had done his fair share of killing. When he had gotten a bit too old to be out in the field he had quit, instead taking on a job as a mercenary to whoever was willing to pay for his services. MNU had been more than willing to hire him and at first McTavish had figured that he might be put on some interesting assignments while getting paid a bucket-load of cash. Instead he had been put in charge of keeping security within District 10, a shithole of a place that was out in the middle of nowhere. He was understandably upset that his career had taken this turn but this anger had quickly subsided into standard resignation. He happily exploited the insane amount of money he was paid to keep the security here running and instead used it to buy himself things he wanted, such as the swimming pool and about five prawn servants who were actually good at following orders. He had himself a massive collection of DVDs as well as a home theatre system and when he wasn't stuck doing paperwork he was watching whatever took his liking (usually television shows he had sine purchased on DVD), such as MacGyver or NCIS. He also had a sizeable collection of Steven Seagal movies, despite the fact that the former blockbuster star had seen better days (and been in better movies).
In regards to the apparent terrorist ring the prawns had, he couldn't care less. Colonel McTavish was being paid to keep security here in District 10 along with his contingent of dumb-ass mercenaries. This sudden rise in prawn insurgent actions didn't concern him at all. Seriously, what did MNU expect when they treated the aliens like dirt anyway? Someone was bound to get annoyed enough to actually try fighting for freedom, this much was obvious. His problem was keeping District 10 locked down tight, not that he cared much about that anyway. The prawns could do whatever they wanted, as long as it didn't bother him. Sometimes he would complain to MNU about the lack of funds and other resources they were giving him, if only to make it look like that he was trying to do his job. He loved scamming the MNU morons out of more money whenever possible and had been doing it a fair bit lately.
His mercenaries were mostly idiots. Then again, most mercenaries were never too intelligent. They were usually more concerned with shooting stuff and blowing things up, not that any of them got much of a chance to do that. The only good mercenary under McTavish's command was Marinus Venter, a Captain. This seemed logical though, since Marinus' older brother, Koobus, had been one of MNU's best combat specialists. Too bad Koobus Venter had been torn to shreds by angry prawns, a sign that the guy hadn't been invincible as he probably would have believed himself to be. That was the trouble with some of these mercenaries: they thought they were invulnerable.
The competent military gene probably ran in the family, hence Marinus' overall intelligence and ability to get the job done. He was a tough man but a reasonable one, although McTavish had a feeling that if left to his own devices Marinus would probably cheerfully go on a prawn killing rampage.
Recently the MNU head honchos, the type of bureaucrats who thought they knew best, had been pressuring McTavish into taking action to determine who the main prawn terrorists were and whether there were any human sympathisers involved or not. McTavish had been given a fair amount of documents concerning what to look out for and which prawns he should detain and question. Naturally McTavish hadn't cared much for this job and had happily handed over the documents and orders to Marinus Venter, thinking that the Captain would take a liking to the job. Unfortunately it seemed that once again MNU had gone back on their word, deciding to form some specialist team to combat the terrorism specifically. Hence, Marinus' new job was obsolete. And now McTavish was being made to wait around for this specialist team to show up, just so he could tell them the obvious: the state of the district, any suspects they might be aware of and so forth. Apparently there was some American Colonel in charge of the team, a Colonel Keller. Hopefully this American Colonel was a somewhat competent military man, otherwise McTavish might just lose complete faith in MNU's hiring practices. It seemed that most of MNU's employees were morons (except for him and Marinus, of course).
Earlier on, at about lunchtime McTavish had called Marinus to his office. The Captain was going to be this new team's guide to the district once they arrived, and thus he would have to cooperate fully with Colonel Keller and his men. They were coming down to do a job that McTavish cared little about, seeing as this prawn insurgency business didn't bother him. Let them blow up MNU facilities, it's not like anyone outside of the corporation would care.
All McTavish wanted to do was continue living the easy life, leaving all his paperwork for others underneath him to complete while he scammed money from MNU every now and then to add to his monthly pay. He still had another two seasons of MacGyver to purchase so he was eagerly awaiting his next pay check. In the meantime he could lounge around in the sun and have drinks, usually something like scotch or whiskey.
On his lap was the day's newspaper, today's edition unsurprisingly filled to the brim with lies concerning the prawns that MNU had been kind enough to feed to the media. Were there prawns kidnapping people on a regular basis? You bet there were! And yet, ask any of the supposed witnesses and chances are they wouldn't be able to form a cohesive story about the kidnapping since it had never actually happened. The more lies MNU fed to the media and thus the more people seemed to think that the prawns were a dastardly alien menace. Well, the prawns might be a tad ugly, a tad smelly and a tad stupid but they weren't all that bad. McTavish's servants seemed to have a good grasp of how to do their job, save for the one incident where one of the servants had decided to eat McTavish's cat. That had hurt the Colonel's feelings a fair bit and thus that prawn had been thrown back into the district, left to fend for itself and presumably resume living like the rest of its race.
McTavish wiped the sweat from his brow, placing the newspaper on the table next to where he sat. He looked up and saw that one of the prawn servants, this one dressed in a neat grey apron, emerged from the glass sliding doors ahead. It held a tray that contained a bottle of scotch and a glass, just as McTavish had ordered a few minutes earlier. This particular prawn was a light brown, almost beige colour and seemed to have a lighter frame than most of the others he had seen. Chances are it was a female, yet it was hard to tell gender apart.
The prawn placed the tray on the table near the Colonel. McTavish nodded in acknowledgement, taking the bottle and using it to fill up the glass.
"Thanks," McTavish told the prawn, "why don't you go help yourself to the cat food stash in the pantry? It's going to be a long day today, I think. You'll need the energy."
The prawn understood this perfectly and walked briskly back into the house. McTavish sipped from the glass of scotch he had poured himself, frowning at the taste. Still, he drank it despite the fact that he was suspicious as to what the prawn had done to the drink. He was always suspicious of the servants anyway. Sometimes he might catch them talking (being prawns, they tended to click and chirp than actually "talk) amongst themselves, as if scheming. If they tried anything he wouldn't hesitate to order his guards to kill them. They were just prawns after all.
He put the glass down, turning his head to look towards the tall black metal fence that went around the garden and pool area before connecting with the rest of the house. The district was some distance away and from up here McTavish could gaze down upon the tents and shanties, often comparing himself to the King or looked down upon his kingdom from his castle.
So, his career had taken him from decorated SAS officer to King of the bloody prawns. How could that have happened? Maybe getting into MNU had been a somewhat bad move, even if life here was easy. He preferred getting in on the action, getting right into the thick of it. Nothing much seemed to happen that he could get into the thick of, instead forced to run things from this pretty house while his mercenaries worked down in the district. How many deaths had occurred amongst the mercenary force in the past year? He thought about this for a moment, able to feel the statistic on the back of his memory.
Nine, that was it. Nine dead mercenaries because these nine had picked the wrong prawns to intimidate. It wasn't uncommon for the mercenaries to prey upon the one, only for about a dozen others to come along and fight the mercenaries in order to protect the intended victim. It took a sizeable and heavily armed force of mercenaries to take on a large group of frenzied prawns and even then the prawns could take a fair amount of punishment before going down.
Nine dead was just proof that the mercenaries that worked here were morons. McTavish didn't like it when mercenaries were killed, primarily because of all the paperwork he had to fill out in the event of a mercenary's death. He hated paperwork. He had been thinking of training one of the prawn servants to do it for him but this would have been too much trouble. Teaching an alien how to read and write actually required effort, effort that McTavish wasn't too interested in expending.
The radio that McTavish had left on the table along with the newspaper and drinks tray suddenly crackled into life, the voice from one of the mercenary's who were currently guarding the front of the house filtered through the speakers.
"Uh, Colonel, there's someone out here who wants to see you," the mercenary said, sounding a tad uncertain.
McTavish grabbed the radio and flicked open the channel, frowning as he did so. Then again, he had an idea of just who might want to see him. He assumed it was to do with that MNU specialist team and he was proven correct in this assumption.
"Who is it that wants to see me?" McTavish asked. He fiddled with the expensive sunglasses he wore, taking them off and placing them on the table. He took another sip from his glass of scotch, regardless of how poor it tasted.
"He says his name's Keller, sir. Colonel Keller. He says that you're expecting him…"
"Send him in," McTavish replied. He was expecting a Colonel Keller to arrive. No use denying the man entry; such an act would only just cause trouble.
McTavish didn't know what to expect in regards to Colonel Keller. Americans were all idiots in his opinion. They all seemed to think they could just march into any situation and boss the people involved in it around, even if the Americans had no business in getting involved. The Vietnam War was the first example McTavish could come up with when he thought about this. McTavish had a feeling that today would be no different.
McTavish sat up, thinking that he might try and pretend that he was actually doing something other than lounging around. Of course, this idea was quickly forced into the back of his mind since he realized there was no point in pretending. He was lounging around…so what? What could this Colonel Keller do about it? McTavish was boss around here and no one could argue with that.
It was a few minutes before a rather stern, greying haired man with dull blue eyes and weathered features walked out onto the outdoor pool area from the house. He was dressed in light grey MNU combat gear, complete with a bulletproof vest and fatigues. The name 'KELLER' was printed in small letters at one side of the vest. Colonel Keller wandered out through the sliding glass doors, a cigar sticking from one corner of his mouth.
Keller took in his surroundings with a careful examining gaze before he started towards McTavish. He seemed to be grinning while puffing a few times on his cigar. McTavish instantly felt suspicious of the Colonel but didn't bother saying anything about it. There was something about the man, something that indicated that he was maybe hiding something…As if he had one too many secrets.
"This is certainly a nice place you have here," Keller said, his accent sounding Texan, maybe Arkansas. He was definitely from the southern United States, McTavish just couldn't be sure of where from that region exactly.
"Let me guess: MNU gave you the money to build this fine estate?" Keller asked, delivering this with a slightly sarcastic tone.
McTavish only frowned at the obvious smart-alecky persona of Colonel Keller. Keller laughed aloud suddenly and rather abruptly, delivering a chuckle that cut through the relative silence like a knife through butter. The laugh ceased after a moment or two and Keller held out one hand in order to shake with McTavish.
"I'm Colonel Francis Keller," the American said, "I'm in charge of the new Anti Alien Terrorism Squad…"
McTavish ignored the open hand, uninterested in shaking with Colonel Keller. Besides, he was thinking: Anti Alien Terrorism Squad? What the hell was all that about and how come he hadn't heard of it? Usually no news concerning MNU slipped by his ears. He was, after all, in charge of the corporation's fine establishment known as "District 10".
"Whatever you say, Colonel Keller," McTavish said, unimpressed. Why was there an American in charge of it anyway? Why, Marinus Venter would have made an excellent lead…There weren't many Americans around here, then again there weren't many Brits like himself around either.
"You must be Colonel McTavish," Keller said, unfazed by McTavish's disinterest.
"Yeah, I bloody well am," McTavish said. He looked up at the Colonel, able to tell that there was maybe something hidden behind that friendly demeanour, something far more ruthless…those dull blue eyes gave it away, appearing as cold and emotionless while supplying a rather sharp contrast to the rest of his face.
"You run the security here at District 10, right?" Keller asked.
McTavish simply nodded.
"Yeah…"
"Usually I would expect someone like you to be filling out paperwork," Keller continued, frowning slightly, "and yet you're out here, lounging around by a swimming pool. What's with that?"
McTavish shrugged. No use denying it: he spent most of MNU's funds on himself and not on keeping security at District 10. The prawns could run rampant, he didn't care as long as they stayed out of his way. So far none had bothered him and he had been running the security here from the beginning, which had been about three years ago. Back then he hadn't had much of an estate as he did now. The more he thought about it the more he discovered just how frantic those early days running security here had been. There had always been trouble with runaway prawns or angry prawns or just plain violence from the prawns. Prawns, prawns, prawns…It seemed everything he heard about now had something to do with the aliens.
"Paperwork's for fucking squares," McTavish said bluntly. He eyed Colonel Keller carefully. "Let me guess: instead of 'Keller' they call you 'Killer', eh? You seem the type…"
Keller shrugged. He didn't seem too fazed by this remark and in fact looked a little flattered.
"Not really," Keller said, "well, at least, not too often. Besides, I only arrived in this country the night before last. I haven't had much of a chance to kill any prawns, if that's what you're wondering."
McTavish found this fact only a little strange. Usually MNU would get someone already in the country to run a new team…Unless Colonel Keller was damn good at his job. Chances were that he was damn good at his job, otherwise they wouldn't have bothered flying him in.
"Why are you here for, eh?" McTavish asked, deciding to quit with the small talk. He had never been much of a fan of small talk and Keller didn't seem the type for it either. It was about time they got down to business…Whatever that business was.
"I'm here to do your job," Keller said, smiling. McTavish had a moment's thought where he actually believed he was being replaced. He was about to complain and swear a fair bit at the same time before Colonel Keller spoke again.
"Don't worry," Keller said, noticing the sudden twitching in McTavish's frown, "I'm not replacing you. Nobody's replacing you. The MNU executives think you're darn good at what you do…Although they probably don't know about the spending you do with their money on the side, you know?" Keller paused, grinning as he did so. "I passed by your DVD collection on my way through the house. Quite impressive…I didn't think someone like you would like Steven Seagal movies…Did MNU funds get you all of those DVDs, or just some of them?"
McTavish relaxed a little, despite the fact that Keller was being a smart-arse.
"Some of them were purchased with money out of my own bloody pocket," McTavish replied, deciding to clarify this point. Was Colonel Keller actually going to get to business or just annoy him? It was hard to tell: Keller seemed to be enjoying himself.
Keller smiled, pulling the cigar out of his mouth as he did so. He held it in between two of the fingers of his right hand, the tip burning away slightly as he rolled it around in his grip.
"Why the fuck are you here, Keller?" McTavish asked before Keller had a chance to say anything else. Keller paused, considering the question for a moment as he determined a liable answer.
"As I said, I and the people I'm in command of are here to do your job," Keller replied. Without even asking if it was alright with McTavish, Colonel Keller dabbed out the burning end of his cigar on the newspaper on the table. A thin wisp of smoke billowed forth and a burnt, scorched hole appeared on the front page right in a smiling photograph of Jonas Lochaeen, the Director of MNU's South African branch. He was posing with a few other smiling officials, a few that McTavish recognized from previous news stories. MNU seemed to be all over the news these days…In fact, they probably controlled the media. There was no use speculating about it: they did control the media.
"We have evidence that there are nonhuman terrorists operating from within District 10," Keller said, "and since you effectively run the place I thought it best to see you first before I and my team move in to start…cleaning out these terrorists. I want to find out if you know anything we don't, like suspects…"
"Suspects?" McTavish frowned. There were a lot of suspected prawns and even more prawns that were probably involved. There was no way to determine whether or not a prawn was involved unless they were caught with weapons or equipment they had no license for.
"Bloody hell, we have a lot of suspects," McTavish said, "We just don't have the resources to arrest them all and interrogate each and every one of them…"
"In other words, you're lazy," Keller interjected in a rather blunt manner. McTavish felt a pang of annoyance but he realized that there was no use in denying it. He was lazy and as well as that he didn't care much about the whole prawn terrorist business. Just as long as they didn't try killing him and they could go out and do whatever they wanted.
"Don't worry about singling anyone out in particular. I already have a suspect in mind," Keller said, "I suppose you've heard of Wikus van de Merwe?"
McTavish thought about this for a moment. Sure, he had heard the name and the rumours that were flying around concerning this man…Just what he had to do with anything was unknown.
"Isn't he the MNU field operative who disappeared a few years back?" McTavish asked, needing clarification.
Keller nodded. He didn't seem too fussed about it, keeping a level gaze as he reached into one pocket at his trousers and removed a folded-up sheet of paper. He carefully unfolded it, handing the sheet to McTavish. The ex-SAS Colonel looked at the photo and writing printed down the page, frowning as he did so. He recognized the prawn in the picture as the one that he had assigned Marinus to find earlier today: it seemed that Keller was after the same one.
"Willis Harrison…" McTavish read the name aloud, scratching at his moustache as he spoke.
"I'm fairly confident that 'Willis Harrison' is a rather unimaginative false name," Keller said, "In actual fact, I believe the prawn pictured here is Wikus van de Merwe…Just not the man he once was." Keller chuckled when he said this, twirling the burning cigar around in his fingers as he let McTavish digest this information.
"And he's here, in District 10?" McTavish was almost incredulous to what he was hearing. A wanted fugitive was living in the district…Well, there was no surprises there. But wasn't Wikus a human being? And yet Keller was implying that the prawn pictured was in fact this Wikus guy…under a false name, living amongst the prawns in the district.
McTavish shook his head. He hadn't expected much to happen today but now, after hearing this, his day was ruined. He was faced with a crackpot American Colonel who believed that some random prawn was in fact a human fugitive.
"Are you fucking crazy, Keller?" McTavish handed the sheet back to the Colonel, shaking his head. "This is all just one big crock of shit. You expect me to believe that this Wikus fellow…He's a prawn? How does that work?"
"That's exactly what I want to find out," Keller replied somewhat casually, seemingly unsurprised by McTavish's reaction. "Hence why I want you to cooperate…I need you to cooperate. We find this guy and we'll most likely find the upper echelon of the prawn insurgent organization. And once they're out of the way there won't be anymore prawn terrorist attacks, at least not as many as there are now. And chances are we'll both get promotions, rewards...Anything MNU's willing to give us, which could be quite a lot. I know that with the money involved we could probably both retire. I certainly can't wait, that way I might be able to go and see my grandkids over in Phoenix. As well as buy a nice house like this one, albeit in a place closer to civilization…"
McTavish looked up, losing his frown when he heard the part about rewards and promotions. Regardless of the sheer absurdity of what Keller was proposing it seemed that there might be something in it for him, something that he couldn't pass up. MNU was undoubtedly backing Keller and this anti terrorism team whole-heartedly, hinting that maybe there was some truth to what Colonel Keller was saying. A human turning into a prawn? It was sheer insanity, but even so some of the rumours McTavish had heard seemed to hint towards the insane and absurd.
"I and my team need to go into the district and search for this prawn, this 'Willis'," Keller said.
"Well, when I heard you were coming I had a feeling you'd want to go into the district," McTavish said, "It's a shithole if you ask me but it's not me that's going in there, it's you." McTavish smiled, pausing for a few seconds before continuing. "I take it you and your team's members are armed and properly equipped? A lot of shit goes down in District 10, let me tell you that. I've lost a few men to what goes on in there already."
Keller nodded, slapping the butt of his holstered .44 Automag pistol for emphasis.
"One of my men, a Captain Marinus Venter, he'll be able to show you around," McTavish said.
"Venter?" Keller frowned.
"Yes, Venter. He's the best man I have, other than myself." McTavish couldn't help but smile again. He quickly lost the smile when he saw that Keller wasn't at all amused with the joke.
The sliding doors up ahead opened and one of the prawn servants, this one dressed in some dirtied grey trousers, emerged. Keller watched it curiously but McTavish had been expecting it, since it was about time it started watering the gardens here. The prawn stepped over to where the garden hose was winded up and began to unwind it, turning on the tap it was connected to before guiding the stream of water onto the nearest flower bed.
"Nonhuman servants, huh?" Keller said, watching the prawn go about its work, "Never thought I'd see that."
"Well, it's not uncommon down here in South Africa," McTavish replied, "In fact, having prawns as servants is becoming all the rage, if you don't mind the cliché. That's why I thought I should have some of my own, especially since they're cheap and seem to learn quickly. They get the hang of whatever you want them to do rather easily, you know. They're smarter than you might think…"
Keller turned back around, still keeping a neutral gaze but one that was slightly tilting towards bemusement. It seemed that Colonel Keller wasn't big on showing emotions. Over in one corner of the backyard the prawn was spraying water onto some well maintained ferns.
"There's a lot of things you'll need to get used to down here in South Africa, Colonel," McTavish said, "the presence of aliens is one. There are about three million of them living down in District 10. I'm sure you knew that, Colonel?"
"I knew that," Keller replied. He put the cigar back in his mouth and puffed on it gently before sucking in as much of the smoke as he could. The cigar itself was looking rather short, most of it having since burned away over the few hours that Keller had been using it.
"So, let me get this straight: You're here to find the one prawn in particular? The one you think might be a human…In what? Disguise? Because that's fucking stupid, but even so I'll play along with it. Obviously MNU's backing you up a fair bit." McTavish leaned forward slightly as he asked the question.
"Not a human in disguise, Mac," Keller said, delivering a nickname that McTavish hadn't heard for many years, "You see, Wikus van de Merwe is a prawn."
McTavish scoffed when he heard this.
"There's more to why you're here," McTavish said, "More than just finding the one prawn, isn't there? Regardless of whether this prawn is this Wikus guy or not…"
Keller nodded, blowing on his cigar as he did so. Up above, a helicopter buzzed overhead.
"Yeah, there is more to why I'm here," he said.
"Oh yeah, like what?"
Keller shrugged.
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," he said. There was a brief moment's silence, a silence that was backgrounded by the sound of the garden hose spraying onto the garden and the occasional chirp from the prawn working the hose. And suddenly Colonel Keller erupted into laughter, cheerfully patting Colonel McTavish on one shoulder.
"I'm only joking, Mac!" Keller exclaimed. McTavish was left a little bemused but otherwise didn't say anything, letting the Colonel pat him on the shoulder.
Keller continued to chuckle for a fair few minutes afterwards. McTavish was slightly confused and slightly unnerved but the allure of monetary rewards kept him interested in whatever nutty scheme Keller was part of.
"Now, where's this Marinus guy you mentioned?" Keller asked, his laughter ceasing rather abruptly, "I want to meet him and get this whole thing started."
McTavish nodded and picked up the radio from the table near his seat, switching it on. He noticed that Keller was now watching the prawn that was watering the garden with some interest.
What a strange man, McTavish thought.
"Hey, Marinus, are you there?" McTavish spoke into the radio and unsurprisingly he didn't receive an immediate response. "Marinus, you prick, can you hear me?"
"I hear you," Marinus Venter replied, sounding a little annoyed.
"Get off your arse and get down to the southern gate into the district," McTavish said, "Colonel Keller and his team are here and you're going to be their guide into the district, as well as help them out whenever they ask you to. You got that?"
"I got it."
McTavish switched off the radio and looked up at Keller again.
"He'll be waiting for you down by the—"
"South gate?" Keller finished, "Yeah, I heard that."
He eyed McTavish briefly before turning around and to head off and leave. McTavish put the radio back on the table and sat back in his seat, satisfied with what had just occurred. If all went well with Keller and his team MNU might reward them…And McTavish really wanted to add a few extensions onto this house, he just didn't have quite enough money to do it yet.
"See you later, Mac," Keller called as he disappeared back into the house, heading on his way to the front of the estate.
"Have fun in the district, Colonel," McTavish shouted back. With that Keller was gone from view, leaving McTavish alone out here with only a prawn for company.
District 10 was a shithole, just as dirty and slummy as District 9. McTavish, with his prawn servants, was doing his part to help some of the aliens into a better life. Sure, they might be doing the housework for him but doing housework was probably better than living in a slum.
McTavish pondered over what Keller had discussed, still not quite sure about what to think when it came to this Wikus van de Merwe business. Then again, he didn't care too much as long as he got his rewards in the end. Without much further thought on the matter McTavish took up the bottle of scotch from the table, unscrewed the lid and downed the rest of the beverage without hassle.
The prawn with the hose wandered by, intent on finishing its job. McTavish looked at it, snapped his fingers to get its attention and pointed over to a garden bed off to the left of the pool.
"Don't forget about that spot, alright?"
The prawn nodded and McTavish resumed lounging around on the seat by the swimming pool.