A quarter section. The place I patrol is built on a quarter section. The corner I am mostly garrison is 26 stories high, in parts. There are many places people can slip away to have a nap or fix or smoke or sniff or 20 dollar blow job from a local crack whore. So, I am stuck for a while, taking a turn at 'control.' I hate 'control.' Tasks there, at 'control' are; Paperwork, answering stupid questions and monitoring a bunch of nazicams, I mean a WHOLE BUNCH. All over the fuckin place, all with little servo motors and zoom lenses, 360 degree lookie. And coordinating, if needed, the movements and actions of a bunch of guys [and a few gals too] all connected via these radios thingies they give us. I see a guy lowering himself into a shrubbery. As if he is lowering himself unto a hot bath, it looks like, to me. I think to myself, "He is taking a shit. FUCK." Personally, I don't give a fuck where the guy shits. I don't even care if he shits on THIS property. I just care about it if I have to deal with it. If the camera sees it, then a guy has to deal with it. Simple. This means using the radio thingie. identifying the exact location of the thing, person or event find out who is closest dispatch . . . No one was gonna do it. Busy. Presently occupied. On a break. Too far Away from the scene. No one was gonna chase the guy away. AND HE WAS LAYIN AN EGG RIGHT THERE! Someone's CHILD could go into that shrubbery and catch AIDS or HERPES! DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT NOW!! [Consider the following, Mother A or Grandmother B or Uncle C brings a toddler to a quarter section sized, 26 story high wonderland of nooks, crannies, shops, rooms, shafts, hallways,walkways and stairs and it is built on Ground Zero, the WORST part of town, inhabited by crack heads, junkies, pimps, thieves, fences, Guatemalans before they get cars, Kung Fu trannies, baseball bat shop owners, drunken work crews just out of the bush who are looking for fights, hookers or drugs etc.... and Mother A or Grandmother B or Uncle C says to the kid, "Go away and play in that shrubbery...." Hey, things like that happpen all the time... apparently] So in the camera is that guy, hunkerin down. He looks to me, like he is takin a crap. He is on camera, so I cannot claim I didn't see him, therefore I can not, nor did I attempt to interupt the man or his business as I was unaware of anything untoward in that shrubbery at that time. So there. 03:00hrs. There are four or five others on site, but none of them available to go deal with this thing. I radio and then I log it and then I wait and then fatso, the guy who doesn't actually work, comes waddling back, asks what was up and then send me out to deal with it. The guy is still in that shrubbery, except maybe now he is setting up camp or looking through his plastic bags or something, because he didn't leave the shrubbery,but is now in amongst it. Fuck. So, I head over there. WAIT I have to get my shit together and put my boots on and leave this place, for I am soon on my way to The Quarter Section On Ground Zero. I will finish this fucked thing in a while, from the work site, if they let me.