I met three guys in Vancouver after taking a solar sail spinner into the sound near Victoria.
I jumped in the sea to wash off the vomit and Orca's be damned swam to the city. I was escorted by rescue dolphins that tried to sell me all kinds of passes to various cardio events in Chinatown. I had no interest in entertainment but I was very willing to accept a tow in the last 5 minutes so I could research the best dim sum place to eat. Some guy named Kevin charged me three pounds of Kyper chips to let me in on an unlicensed engie'd endangered species eat your way through the history of bio diversity circa plains of North America dimsky place. If I eat there and get through the entire 16 course meal I get three GNUedu credits for completing the bio diversity course. I was really close to being able to qualify for class II biomech surgery on I don't know what tier of life form... probably lowest third.
In the restaurant I met three loud men, they noticed my diamond lenses which I tend to leave in when I am not in space because I find it hard to adjust to putting them back in. They asked me over to their table and it was clear as I sat down they had not slept in a few weeks. As the meal progressed one of them asked me.
"You are a total sweet man and I love your story, how is your sense of smell? Good range?"
I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, after a short pause I named every piece of dim sum on the table behind me. Several people applauded.
His taller friend with hair made most likely from redwood bark leaned into me.
"Take this and smell your way to our next party."
He handed me a scratch and sniff tab with tiny instructions on it. With his other hand he rummaged around his waist band and then produced a dark cube about 6x6 cm. He put it in my palm.
"We formed this company six months ago. We have now served 67 clients and held two parties. Blow on the cube to find out more."
"Enjoy the rest of your meal, hope to see you tomorrow at 3AM. Don't forget the cube, it has virus cryptography and only we have the key. Nasty flu will sideline you for a month."
I blew on the cube and put it down on the table, the black covering became clear and inside there was a block of what looked like ice. Their laughter was dying slowly as they walked down the long old sewer tunnel going who knows where. A waiter watched them progress down the tunnel while scratching his lower back. Their footsteps fading nicely suddenly stopped after one minute.
The cube focused on my retina and I chose private viewing, there was a lot of anime around me as people were doing work and play but I was tired and wanted to focus on the presentation. At 3:18 the punch line was delivered. These three men were running a Martian ice business that specialized in snow cone and mixed drink events. They were all class VI roboticist's, more than enough talent to commandeer a Panamax office city and belt out some useful new industrial bots. I am guessing they were loaded and didn't need to work hence the specialty entertainment bots they made. Below is a drawing of their main bot that delivers the basis of their marketing plan.
This is a retrieval bot from a series of 70. It was assembled in orbit and launched towards Mars. Once there it used CSA ice data to settle down on an open claim and mine a big block of ice. Four heated rods sunk into the ground and laser cut a block of ice which was hoisted and clamped to the bot. The ice was chemically sealed to protect it against heat and friction. Once it returned to earth orbit they farmed out delivery to a cold storage service and the ice was deposited to their vancouver warehouse. Two events were organized within 24 hours of delivery. In the day time they made snow cones that cost the same as a house in the nicest part of Chengdu. At night they made mixed drinks that cost almost double. Their day time footage showed models licking bits of shaved Martian ice with caution and a weird looking piety. At night its the same crowd but they seemed more riotous. I was thrilled that day knowing I would be the poorest person there with the least likelihood of licking anything.