We set up the first settlement in the Gordian Plains a comfortable distance from Factoryland, in a nice simple pattern where nice simple houses would soon be built. The connecting road would eventually have to be upgraded to an avenue, so we'd make sure to leave space for that.

We also zoned space for a few shops along the connecting road. Not much point making money if you can't spend it somewhere, right? Besides, commercial zones conveyed power from Factoryville to the projects--er, neighborhood--just as well as high-tension lines, without being as unsightly. Or scrambling up people's brains. Unless it was the holiday shopping season.

It turned out that wasn't even close to enough housing, so we expanded the plan a little more aggressively.

Things were going quite nicely when, one morning in November, I sat down in front of my computer with barely two sips of tea in me, and read this email from somebody in Null's transportation department whose name I couldn't be bothered to remember:

Huh.

I mulled this over for a minute, and then yelled downstairs.

Hey, finance advisor!

You rang?

Damn Willy, it's 6:45 in the morning, why are you already in your business suit?

I'm not. My pajamas just look exactly like a business suit.

Really?

No. But it's easier than trying to explain to a bum like youself the virtues of getting up early.

Getting some work done before Mash wakes up and starts getting on your nerves, you mean?

That's number two on the list.

Anyway. How are you feeling about the road budget?

Fine, why? We have like four roads. I think we pay about 20 bucks a year to maintain them.

Think we should replace them with streets and save some cash?

God no. Why the hell would we do that? It would save us like ten bucks a year. You called me up here at 6:45 in the morning to ask that?

Well, I got this email suggesting you would be kind of pissed about all the money we spend on roads. Also that the residents would hate the faster traffic.

Oh yeah, everybody always hates driving fast. Hardly a day passes where I don't hear someone complaining, "man, we need slower traffic and longer commutes around here!"

How would you feel if I cut the transportation budget by firing the guy who wrote this email, then?

Chipper.

Righto.

I felt confident the question of whatever became of old Whats-His-Name from the transportation department would never cross my mind again.

People were still turning up from God knows where looking to live in picturesque Pigiron Sludge Bay and work in its gleaming metal treatment plants, so we yet again expanded the residential area. Though this time I think Null got a little carried away with the layout, but hey, it's something different, at least. We'll work with it.

Since there seemed to be no end to the available workforce, we expanded the industrial zone and MPR Metals quickly bought up all the developable land. Apparently Pigiron Sludge Bay was on its way to becoming a major center for chemical metal treatment. Or a plague-ridden wasteland that glowed in the dark. One or the other.

We also zoned for our first small commercial center, and saw a few small shops open. Most notably Palazzi's Pizza Palace, which just might one day soon put Pigiron Sludge Bay on the map by virtue of being the worst pizza joint in the entire world. We were rooting for a Chinese restaurant, but no luck yet.

One afternoon in November Mash and I were in overtime of a hotly contested paper football match when Willy strode in. (Willy never walks. He strides.)

Oh I'm sorry, am I interrupting something important?

  Actually you kind of--

OBVIOUSLY I AM NOT. Anyway, I have something very exciting here.

  Is it a mouth full of broken teeth?

Well, no.

  Come over here and I'll give you one.

Willy just gave him a condescending look and tossed an oversized manila folder onto the table in front of me. On the first page was:

Sweet, a Mayor's House! It was getting old playing paper football on the side of an appliance carton in a dusty basement in the power plant.

  Does this mean I can finally take a shower?

Not until we get a water system installed.

  Remind me why the hell anyone chooses to live here, again?

I'm kind of with Mash there, it would be nice to be able to take a shower in our new mayoral mansion.

You're starting to sound like one of those whiny citizens now.

Whatever, just build the mansion and I'll get Null to get the water done.

It turned out it was going to take a while to get the water pipes installed, first of all because none of us had any clue where to find water or how to get it out of the ground. But we woke up the next morning and, bam!, the house was ready for us. I named it Awesome Estates, naturally, and we placed it just off the residential area, right on the river bank.

Truly life just kept getting better in Pigiron Sludge Bay. For us, at least. Life still sucked for the citizens, I guess.