Sime~Gen Roleplaying: District Controller's Office Scenario
Episode #38: Fruit of the Grapevine (6/14/99)
Nick drags himself off of the train, looking rather like a travel-worn itinerant poet, thanks to Arat's choice of civvies.
Deah is leaning against a post carrying a sign labeled "Nick Reckage".
Nick can't help but feel that he has no business being so many miles away from both of his channels.
Deah looks like an escaped office slave: ink on her fingers, pencils behind her ears, and scuffs on her uniform knees.
Nick looks around, trying to figure out where he supposed to go, and spots Deah's sign.
Deah zlins Nick and immediately straightens.
Deah: Nick Reckage?
Deah looks Nick up and down belatedly, as her eyes catch up to her laterals.
Deah: ~~surprise~~
Nick picks up his bag and makes his way in Deah's direction.
Nick: I'm Nick.
Deah: Great.
Nick: ~~ tired ~~
Deah: Your, um, channel dresses you funny.
Deah: But that nager couldn't be anybody else!
Deah offers to take Nick's bag.
Nick looks down at the silk shirt and artsy pants.
Nick: Well, I admit that I prefer different clothes, but beggars can't be choosers.
Nick hesitates, then surrenders the bag.
Deah: He made you beg for clothes? Shedoni, Arat is even more of a tightwad than I remember.
Nick: You're Controller Tigue?
Deah: Yes, oh, sorry, I didn't introduce myself. Deah Tigue, at your service.
Deah takes his bag.
Nick takes a closer look at Deah, now that her identity has been confirmed.
Deah is a shortish, dark-brown-haired, intense channel with almost nothing else to identify her.
Deah: [at least nothing else physical; nageric is another matter!]
Deah appears to be perfectly healthy, if a bit decorated by her chores.
Nick tentatively tries to mesh his nager with Deah's, made awkward by her non-Farris nager.
Deah marches off with the bag, seemingly not noticing Nick's attempts.
Nick limps along behind her, a bit puzzled by her nonresponsiveness.
Nick has, of course, no real conception of how hair-trigger Farris sensitivity is.
Nick: Is it far?
Deah: Our ride should still be waiting out in the street, that is unless Henny's gone to sleep and let the horses wander off again. The last time that happened, it took two policemen and a Donor trainee to lead them out of the town square fountain.
Deah winks at Nick to let him know she isn't serious, since she's beginning to wonder if he can't tell.
Nick: Oh.
Nick has never before encountered non-seriousness in a channel, and finds it a bit confusing.
Deah leads the way up to a small nondescript wagon and tosses Nick's bag on the back, then offers Nick a boost up into the back seat.
Henny, the driver, is a middle aged Gen woman with a hat pulled down over her eyes.
Nick manages to take his place without damaging himself, although his scramble is hardly a demonstration of the grace a Donor is supposed to display around Simes.
Nick looks at Henny carefully, searching for signs of narcolepsy.
Henny: Hi.
Deah pulls herself up onto the seat next to Nick.
Nick: Err, hello. I'm Nick Reckage.
Henny: Oh reaaally.
Henny: Controller Tigue, you didn't tell me he was who we're picking up.
Nick wonders what rumors have been circulating about him and Snake lately.
Deah: Like you wouldn't have taken any excuse to get out of the laundry room for a couple of hours.
Henny: Ah well... true.
Henny turns around and gets the wagon rolling, steering the horses out into the street.
Nick looks around at the town.
Nick notices that the streets are unaccountably straight.
Deah doesn't realize the average Donor might wonder about being picked up in the laundry wagon instead of a more stately vehicle; she just happened to be walking out the door to pick Nick up when she saw Henny loading the wagon with empty bleach barrels and remembered Nick was supposed to be injured.
Nick: How did the streets get so straight? Was there a fire or something?
Deah: No, they were designed that way by the city planners.
Deah: Avenues run north-south, streets run east-west, horse-drawn trolleys run on the diagonals. You'll get used to it.
Nick: All of them? How'd they get the property owners to go along with that?
Deah: Oh, the property owners? [laughs]
Deah: Well, back when this was all planned, nobody lived here anymore.
Nick: Oh.
Deah: The area had been decimated by Raiders from the Norwest collapse.
Nick: I see. That would simplify the planning.
Deah: Technically, I suppose it was all owned by Family Audnes, but they didn't come to any of the zoning meetings.
Deah: ~~ironic~~
Nick: Audnes? Isn't that...?
Deah: Arat's family, yes.
Deah: Or at least it was.
Nick: What happened to them?
Deah: Oh, they're still around, although not so you'd notice. They live off Arat mostly.
Deah thinks Arat is nuts to put up with it.
Nick: Oh.
Deah is not really the type to throw money at leeches just because they are related.
Deah hears Nick is the same way, which she admires.
Nick: I expect that's why he was so familiar with the mechanics, when my grandmother....
Deah: I don't imagine his relatives were ever quite that bold, though.
Nick: Well, most of mine aren't.
Deah has read Arat's version of Prunida's arrival and dropping off of Nick, and actually found the woman's chutzpah and enterprise quite refreshing.
Deah is not bothered by this contradiction.
Deah: That's not what I've heard! [winks]
Deah: Well, here we are. Not much of a distance, hey?
Nick is a bit astonished at this statement, since Prunida freely terrorizes the rest of his immediate family, and Narosians are not known for their aggressive natures.
Nick: No, not really.
Deah: I'm afraid it's not very imposing from the rear.
Deah swings off in front of a door labeled "laundry only".
Nick: Well, the trash must be stored somewhere for pickup, I'm sure.
Deah pauses.
Nick works his way to the side of the wagon and squats, trying to get as close to the ground as possible before jumping off.
Deah: Did Arat say anything about the glory of first-generation-post-Unity architecture, and soaring glass antechambers and the like?
Nick: I'm afraid he didn't tell me much about New Othwol; we were rather distracted, my last few days at Capitol.
Deah: Ah, good then, we'll go in here.
Deah offers Nick a hand down.
Henny has tied up the horses and disappeared.
Nick accepts the assistance, although it surprises him a bit. Still, even Arat opened the door for him the first few days, while Nick was running around on crutches.
Nick: Thank you.
Nick looks around, trying to get a feel for his new, temporary home.
Deah: Well, then, what's first. Shower, grand tour, food, or tennis?
Deah frowns.
Deah: No tennis.
Nick: Perhaps the shower and food, then a tour?
Deah nods.
Deah: I'll show you to your pigeonhole, then, and we'll meet up in a half hour for your lunch. Dinner. [checking the time]
Deah leads the way in the laundry door.
Nick follows, treading carefully to avoid the occasional patches of moisture.
Nick: It looks like you have a considerable staff here.
Nick nods at the piles of uniforms.
Deah says, "Hi" to various workers as they pass through the loud, bustling steamy interiors of various support departments of the government complex.
Deah: Oh yes, we have to take care of the whole city here, and the facilities are shared by the Sime Center, two schools, the Government Center, and the library.
Deah: [yelling to be heard over the noise]
Nick is starting to get the idea that Deah is a rather different sort of Controller than Arat.
Nick: It looks rather... busy.
Deah: That's just because I'm here!
Deah: [winks]
Nick grins tentatively.
Nick's nager brightens with his smile.
Deah leads Nick into a small lift.
Deah: This is supposed to be for cargo only, but I won't tell if you don't.
Nick points to his bag.
Nick: That counts as cargo, doesn't it?
Deah: Oh, yes, I think we can say that it does.
Deah pushes the grille closed and holds down the elevator's single button.
Deah turns to Nick as the elevator slowly rises.
Deah: Steam powered. They were all the rage when this place was built, it was new technology from Gen Territory. However, keeping the things maintained is a bear, and you notice there isn't a one in Capitol!
Nick: Yes. Some innovations are more trouble than they're worth.
Nick: So this was supposed to be a showcase? Ultramodern, and all that?
Deah pushes the grille aside as the elevator stops, then offers Nick a hand over the 1-foot-high step up onto the 2nd floor.
Deah: Yes, it was.
Deah: I don't think it ever quite reached the stage of "showcase" though, more like, ah, "performance art".
Nick is careful not to trip on the unevenness.
Nick: There was an artist in Bender Cove who did that--managed to get himself kicked out of just about every respectable place, and quite a few that weren't.
Deah leads Nick down a dark, featureless hallway, some distance before arriving at a door.
Deah: Here, we've found your niche, as it were.
Deah pulls a key out of her pocket and tries it on the door.
Nick views the featureless hall with some apprehension.
Deah zlins the apprehension.
Deah: What's the matter?
Nick: I never have liked dorms and barracks.
Deah stops.
Deah: Oh.
Nick shrugs to indicate his acceptance of what can't be changed.
Deah: Oh well, you want to just get back to me when you have found a place, then?
Deah: I have to go back to work or I'd offer to help out.
Deah: Or maybe I can find somebody who's got some spare time.
Deah: I'll warn you, though, a row house is rather like a barracks.
Nick: Right now, I think a shower is a more urgent priority. I'll look around for a place when I have spare time.
Deah shrugs.
Nick: Where will you be working?
Deah: I'll be in my office. Here, let me show you how to use the state-of-the-art internal communications system.
Deah's tone of voice suggests said system is less state-of-the-art than it is state-of-disrepair.
Deah: [or at least, state-of-disarray]
Deah gets the door open and enters a fairly standard dorm-like room.
Nick wonders: Carrier pigeons? Messengers? Heliograph?
Deah: Who could turn down this amazing view?
Nick tries to keep his depression at the room to himself.
Nick: I suppose it's no worse than many hotels.
Deah: And, most importantly, it's free.
Deah: Can't beat that price.
Nick: Well, I've known a few doorways in my time that came with the same recommendation.
Nick: Better views, most of them, but the climate control wasn't that great.
Deah: Here, when you want to get a hold of me again, grab one of these pieces of paper and write my name, and the message, then put it in one of these little capsules.
Deah demonstrates.
Deah: Slide open this little door, and put the capsule in. Close the door, and -
Deah: [WHUMP]
Deah: - it's gone, easy as that.
Nick: Where does it go?
Deah: Oh, ah, don't put anything else in there, the maintenance plant people get real ornery.
Nick nods, having known a few.
Deah: It goes to a central processing area in the basement, where teenage children who had the idea they wanted to better themselves through fruitful labor redirect them to the correct party.
Nick: I gather that one shouldn't send messages using this system if one wishes the contents kept confidential?
Deah: Needless to say.
Nick: Well, then, I'll join you in half an hour or so, when I'm presentable.
Deah: Great. See you then.
Deah sails out of the dorm room.
Nick thinks he must need that shower even more than he though he did, if Deah is so eager to leave her newly-arrived Donor.
Nick grabs a somewhat wrinkled uniform and heads for the bathroom.
Buggsy corners Deah as she returns to the office.
Deah: Yes, yes, I've returned. Never fear, I didn't run screaming.
Deah's staff has had a running joke about Controllers running screaming from New Othwol ever since Arat went to Capitol.
Buggsy: So, what's he like? Inquiring minds want to know.
Deah: Oh, Nick?
Deah screws up her nose.
Deah: He's sort of stiff.
Buggsy: Really?
Deah: Maybe he'll loosen up once he's been here for a while.
Buggsy is ~~ faintly disappointed ~~
Buggsy: He's supposed to be really wild and all that.
Buggsy: Is he cute, at least?
Deah: Buggsy, he's been hanging out with Arat Audnes for 6 weeks, and with Neptude breathing down their backs. It's amazing the poor guy still knows how to crack a smile, especially with his old channel come back.
Buggsy: Well, I suppose Arat would put the damper on anyone.
Deah: And yes, he's cute enough. [dryly]
Deah: Looks just like Riyyh ambrov Naros about 30 years younger, given a thorough physical workout, and a bad hair do.
Buggsy: He probably hasn't been allowed a minute to himself, if I know Arat.
Buggsy thinks this has possibilities.
Deah: Well, the hair's not that bad. It looks like it's growing out.
Buggsy: I'd have thought Arat would have taken care of the hair, at least.
Deah: Me too.
Deah thinks Buggsy's talk of Arat not giving a person a minute's peace is mostly sour grapes, since Arat had never looked twice at her.
Buggsy: Is he settling in well? We'll have to give him a warm welcome.
Deah: Well, he's scarcely had time to take a shower yet. Try to give him some space at least until this evening!
Buggsy pouts.
Deah has already heard rumors of a surprise welcome party for Nick being planned for the weekend.
Buggsy: Well, I guess I could leave him be until evening.
Deah: I'm sure he won't be taken by then. [rolls her eyes]
Buggsy thinks that actually, evening sounds like it has possibilities.
Buggsy: A girl has to be alert, or chances pass her by.
Buggsy has never been guilty of bypassing chances.
Deah: Give the guy a break. Between Narosian friendliness and Arat's clinginess, the poor guy probably hasn't had a shower alone in a year.
Buggsy: Well, and who knows what went on before that.
Deah: In Wise Snake's file it says something about her not being willing to let him go into strange restrooms alone.
Deah: [thoughtfully]
Deah: Something to do with being afraid to lose him.
Deah was never clear if that would be down the drain, or some other way.
Buggsy: Really?
Buggsy: He couldn't even go to the bathroom?
Deah: So hey, this is like luxury for him. Let's not spoil it.
Buggsy: The poor man.
Buggsy is quite prepared to shower Nick with sympathy.
Deah is not going to bother protecting Nick beyond giving him time for the initial shower; he's a big boy, he can look after himself. [or so she reasons]
Buggsy: So, does his file say anything about what sort of... extracurricular interests... he has?
Deah: Oh please, Buggsy. Did you open any mail while I was gone?
Deah looks vainly in her In-Box.
Buggsy pouts, then reverts to business.
Buggsy: No, but Hajene Erlim says that Timmond won't ever amount to anything if he can't bring some focus to that nager of his, and Grad says the hot water heater will have to be shut down for maintenance tomorrow.
Buggsy considers.
Deah: Again??
Buggsy: Umm, and today's food shipment had two defective flour barrels.
Buggsy: Just the usual disasters.
Deah: Good grief.
Buggsy: Hey, that's what they pay us for.
Buggsy: Some day, they'll figure out they can survive without us just fine, and then where would we be?
Deah: On to the next frontier, of course.
Deah: Could you write me a letter to Arat letting him know Nick arrived safely? I'll sign it when we get back from lunch.
Buggsy: Sure thing.
Deah remembers something she'd meant to do.
Buggsy: Something formal for the files, or a bit more personal? I hear Arat's been acting strange about him.
Deah locates Nick's file and starts scanning through it, looking for any mention of a sense of humor, or lack thereof.
Deah: Formal, I think.
Deah: Old Arat's ticker isn't up to too many personal letters from me in one month.
Buggsy: The Big Names will probably be reading it over his shoulders, anyway.
Deah: Especially not with the problems he's got on his hands right n... exactly.
Deah: Better him than me!
Deah: Give me New Othwol, the Backside of Nowhere, any day.
Buggsy: And a... fragrant... backside it is!
Deah may be exaggerating somewhat; New Othwol is a modest trading town if nothing else.
Buggsy turns as a loud FsshshshhhhhhhhhwwwwOOOP announces the arrival of a message.
Buggsy: Do you want me to get that?
Deah: Sure, go ahead.
Deah flips through Nick's folder a bit more, then replaces it in its secure drawer.
Buggsy eyes the file longingly, then hands Deah the message.
Buggsy: Our rogue is a fast scrubber, it appears.
Buggsy: That, or he's really hungry.
Deah scans the note.
Buggsy is a mite peckish herself.
Nick's note: Controller Tigue: I am now presentable and ready for a meal, after which I will be at your service. If you or one of your staff could show me the way to the cafeteria, I would be most appreciative. Nick Reckage.
Deah's eyebrows raise.
Deah is impressed by his independence in suggesting she send someone else to show him the way; she'd been afraid Nick would be too clingy after working with Farrises so long.
Buggsy: What did he say?
Deah: He's ready for dinner. Want to go down and show him the cafeteria, send him back up here when you're done?
Buggsy: Ohhhh, would I!
Buggsy: ~~ enthusiasm ~~
Deah: Go on, go on.
Buggsy pats her hair into place.
Buggsy: Is my face on straight?
Deah hopes Buggsy hasn't given this guy such a buildup that she ends up being crushed by disappointment.
Deah: The guy has been looking at Snake Farris for the last year. You could be wearing your dinner and he wouldn't notice.
Buggsy: A girl has to have her standards.
Buggsy winks at Deah, and skips out the door.
Deah shakes her head, grinning ruefully, then gets back to work.
see note 1
Herp signals at Arat's door, only technically prepared to give his daily report on his charge.
Jeniard hastens to get the door, as Arat has been extremely testy since Nick's leaving days before.
Herp would actually rather face Snake than try to explain the current difficulty to Arat.
Herp zlins Jeniard as the door opens, hoping for some clue to Arat's current degree of moodiness.
Herp knows better than to think that Arat's nager will provide any clues.
Jeniard is zlinning rather cautious and submissive.
Herp experiences that sinking-elevator feeling.
Jeniard: Hello, Hajene Herp.
Jeniard lets him in.
Herp: Hajene Jeniard. I'm here with the daily report.
Herp sneaks a look at Arat.
Arat looks up, belatedly.
Arat finds news of Snake interesting enough to be worth an interruption, most of the time.
Herp: Controller.
Arat gives Herp a short nod.
Herp thinks that there have been worse greetings, since Nick left.
Herp: I have the day's report on Hajene Snake?
Arat's tentacle flicks in the direction of a chair.
Herp sits as commanded.
Herp: Beni has been treating her entran, and you were right, she hasn't been aggressive towards him.
Arat: Good.
Herp: However, he said something that, well....
Herp searches for the proper words.
Herp: It's likely to cause complications, good or bad, I'm not sure which.
Herp spreads his tentacles to indicate cluelessness.
Arat looks at Herp deadpan.
Arat has never been particularly tolerant of cluelessness.
Jeniard has retaken his seat near Arat, and is listening with interest.
Herp: Beni said something about Snake looking something like you, beyond both being Farrises, I mean.
Herp: And Snake, well, she just jumped to the conclusion that you must be her father.
Arat actually looks rather surprised.
Arat: It is impossible, of course.
Herp looks a bit relieved.
Jeniard looks, and zlins, a bit disturbed.
Herp: It might be hard to convince her of that.
Jeniard has a niggling little worry about something he remembers vaguely, from a long time ago.
Arat glances at Jeniard, distracted.
Herp: She was going on about how her mother, a prostitute, was hired as a joke by the friends of a very drunk channel.
Herp: In the rest room of a train station, of all unlikely places.
Jeniard blanches.
Herp: And that he left the next day....
Jeniard: Excuse me, I have to....
Jeniard jumps up and rushes for the door, as if physically ill.
Herp: Is something wrong, Hajene Jeniard?
Arat would like to know the same thing.
Jeniard stops, feeling cornered.
Jeniard: It's just....
Jeniard: ~~great distress~~
Herp is ~~ openly curious ~~, but tries to moderate the ambient.
Jeniard knows Arat would have his laterals for shoelaces if he said this in front of Herp.
Herp: Please, if there's any insight you have that would help me with my patient...?
Jeniard glances at Arat.
Arat is slowly losing his temper.
Herp: She feels the lack of a father so strongly.
Jeniard: It's just that....
Jeniard: Well, it's possible it could be true. [lamely]
Herp: What???
Arat looks at Jeniard in complete disbelief.
Arat: [it's not clear whether it's the idea he disbelieves in, or if he is just astonished that Jeniard would say such a thing outside of a very private context]
Herp looks at Arat for confirmation.
Jeniard: I mean, Arat, you might not remember it, but we did go through Bender Cove on the way to Maple Leaf right after your parents were released.
Jeniard: About 16 years ago.
Jeniard: There was that party in Southlake, and remember how we all had to run for the train, and....
Arat: Enough!
Arat interrupts, furious.
Arat: Jeniard, I am appalled at you.
Herp tries to zlin, and look, invisible.
Arat: ~~ outraged panic ~~
Jeniard gulps.
Herp is trying to absorb just what it will mean if Arat really is Snake's long-missing father.
Arat: Jeniard, go, get out.
Arat sits back in his chair, controlling his nager with an effort.
Jeniard: But... yes, Arat.
Herp wonders if he could escape by offering to get Arat's Donor, and then remembers that the man hasn't arrived yet.
Jeniard clutches the door handle and makes good his (temporary) escape.
Arat massages his forehead briefly.
Arat doesn't realize it is a Snakish mannerism.
Arat: He's... been under a lot of stress lately.
Herp: If this is true, and you are.... This could be a very important step forward in Hajene Snake's rehabilitation.
Arat lets his hand fall, and looks back at Herp again.
Arat: I wouldn't consider that possibility very seriously just yet.
Arat: I will investigate the matter myself. In the meantime, do not, I repeat do not, raise her hopes.
Herp: I won't, although it would explain a great many things.
Arat's state of outrage threatens to return.
Arat: What??
Arat struggles for calmness.
Arat isn't usually hit with "news" quite this personal.
Herp: Why Zeor was unable to place any of their Farris men in Bender Cove at the proper time.
Herp looks at Arat more closely.
Arat looks more or less exactly like a male Snake with black eyes and without any trace of weasel-ness.
Herp: And Beni is right: Snake looks more like you than like other Farris channels I've seen.
Arat promptly looks furious, increasing the resemblance.
Arat: I would appreciate it if you would refrain from speculation until such a time as I have cleared the matter up myself.
Arat: [stiffly]
Herp's mouth snaps shut before the teeth can chatter too obviously.
Herp: Of course, Controller Arat.
Arat: Who has heard about this? [demands]
Herp: Beni, of course. And Arilla was with me in the observation room.
Arat groans internally; Beni will spread it to anyone and everyone.
Herp: And it's possible Snake will start ranting about it again, now that the new shift is present.
Arat: Ranting?
Arat does not think that sounds good.
Herp: She seems to bear a grudge against her father--whoever he was.
Herp: For leaving her mother behind to die giving birth to her.
Arat massages his forehead again.
Arat: Was there... anything else?
Arat hopes the rest of the report is comparatively uneventful.
Herp: Well, she's been doing more Zeor exercises, and inspecting the walls and locks, as she's been doing all along.
Herp: She did sleep a few hours.
Arat nods.
Arat: Very well.
Arat: That is the written version, there?
Herp: Yes.
Herp passes the stack of papers over, relieved to be rid of it.
Arat accepts it.
Arat: I will see you again tomorrow, then.
Herp: Of course.
Herp gets to his feet, eager to be gone.
Herp really doesn't like it when what should be a difficult but manageable case, is complicated by political concerns.
Herp: Tomorrow.
Herp flees at the fastest pace consistent with the remnants of his dignity.
Herp almost collides with Pylor at the door.
Arat waits until Herp is out the door, then buries his head in his hands.
Pylor: Watch where you're going!
Pylor: ~~ irritation ~~
Arat's head jerks upward again as he realizes who is coming in.
Pylor pushes past Herp into the room.
Arat: ~~dismay~~
Pylor: What's this I hear about the rogue being your bastard?
Arat looks at Pylor in shock.
Arat had expected to get a less-than-wonderful assignment this month in comparison to Nick, and particularly after giving up Beni to Snake, but to be given Pylor again? Was Neptude still punishing him????
Pylor: Blood will tell, I suppose.
Arat manages, after a moment, to erase the stunned expression and turn it into a cold one.
Arat: You're late.
Pylor struts over to the chair Nick used to occupy.
Pylor: So was the train.
Arat wishes it had accidentally missed stopping in Capitol.
Arat: How unfortunate.
Pylor: I understand you were really rolling out the red carpet for your pet rogue Donor.
Pylor is actually just a touch envious that Nick was able to get through to Arat, although he wouldn't admit it even to himself.
Arat eyes Pylor with distaste.
Arat: Do you?
Pylor: Yes. It's been the talk of the Tecton for weeks.
Pylor does have friends, believe it or not, and they have reported the as-yet-unsettled betting pool for the end of Nick's honeymoon with Arat.
Arat: I don't doubt it. Talk has ever been the province of those who can't do.
Pylor flushes.
Pylor: ~~ anger, only loosely controlled ~~
Pylor: I was told that you'd changed, but it seems the reports were wrong.
Pylor: You're still as temperamental as you ever were.
Arat shrugs stiffly.
Arat: Perhaps it is the company.
Pylor snorts, and goes to the tea table.
Pylor: I'm the only Donor you're going to get, Arat. You might think of that, before you start giving me that hoity-toity treatment.
Pylor helps himself to some of the Narosian tea Nick left behind.
Arat: What difference does it make, when you would mistreat me regardless of how I behaved?
Arat has a few too many problems right now to put up with Pylor's attitude gracefully.
Pylor's family is as lower-class as Nick's (at least the non-Narosian quarter of it), and growing up in New Othwol he was treated to all sorts of tales about the heyday of the Audnes family.
Pylor: You're soft, Arat. You wouldn't last five minutes on the streets.
Arat is thrown for a moment by the non-sequitur.
Pylor pours water on his tea, releasing the delectable odor of the fine blend, and returns to Nick's chair to sip it.
Pylor: I'd never have thought you for the type to fall for a rogue. What is it, a longing for vicarious adventure?
Arat gives Pylor a contemptuous look.
Arat: Hardly.
Pylor: Well, why else would you so prefer that rogue that you'd talk Neptude into giving you an Exclusive with him?
Arat: Why would I prefer him to what. You? [incredulously]
Pylor: At least I'm Tecton!
Pylor: Once Reckage sees a chance to bolt, you'll never zlin him again. You'll see.
Arat: What channel would want a Donor who hates him?
Pylor: He's a rogue. They're all undependable, shiftless lawbreakers.
Pylor is, of course ~~ very sure ~~ of what he is saying.
Arat looks at Pylor, wondering idly if some iota of the man actually gives a damn about Arat, or if that implication was accidental.
Arat wonders if he could get away with reassigning Pylor to Snake and taking Beni for himself.
Arat is not certain Pylor has the skills to help Snake as much as Beni could, but he is fairly sure Snake could assist Pylor considerably in a lifelong attitude readjustment.
Arat's only concern would be that the lifetime itself might be inconveniently short.
Arat's dark eyes flicker as he studies Pylor in gloomy speculation.
Pylor drinks Nick's tea, in Nick's chair, zlinning rather more satisfied with himself than otherwise.
Arat abandons the idea as impossible and begins instead to try to imagine himself taking transfer from Pylor in a month.
Arat's face takes on a look of intense discomfort.
Pylor is a boor and a bigot, but he is also a Donor.
Pylor: Trouble?
Pylor's nager makes a token effort at offering ~support ~
Arat: I don't want to spend a month like this.
Pylor: How is that?
Pylor: Are you too good for the likes of me?
Pylor gives Arat the kind of look his parents gave Arat's parents, and his grandparents, Arat's grandparents.
Pylor is all too aware that Arat's family never registered the existence of his own, except as lower life forms suitable for hard labor.
Arat: I refuse to endure the abuse you seem to feel I deserve.
Arat: I know you do not do this to other channels.
Arat: I am going to file an official complaint.
Pylor shifts uneasily, knowing on some level that Arat has a point.
Pylor: Who's going to believe you, with your record?
Pylor: ~~ defensive ~~
Arat holds out some hope that the powers that be will listen because 1) Arat has been doing so much for them lately, and 2) a formal complaint is a step up from work and/or hunger strikes.
Pylor does decide to stop riding Arat, for the moment.
Arat just looks at him.
Pylor feels the way a poor boy always feels when a rich boy give him The Look.
Pylor has been rather wealthy himself since he made First, and Arat's family fortune was gone before either of them was born, but that makes no difference.
Pylor feels sullen, and inferior, and resentful of that inferiority.
Pylor is also more than a little resentful that a half-trained rogue like Nick could walk in and accomplish what no Tecton Donor has been able to manage.
Arat zlins him critically.
Arat: You do not zlin the way a Donor should zlin in the presence of a channel he intends to responsibly serve throughout the month.
Pylor shrugs, but gets his nager a bit closer towards something resembling order.
Pylor reminds himself that it's only for three weeks.
Pylor: Have you eaten today?
Pylor figures he might as well do his duty, even if he is stuck with the snob.
Arat does not find much of an improvement in Pylor's nager.
Arat: I had breakfast with Jeniard. I will be fine until later.
Arat: You may go if you are hungry.
Arat rather hopes Pylor does.
Pylor: Might as well. You're down to the burn ward in an hour?
Arat: Yes.
Pylor gets to his feet.
Pylor: I'll be there.
Arat shudders at the prospect of actually working with Pylor, and tries to console himself with the thought that at least there won't be any entran.
Arat nods.
Pylor strolls out of the office as arrogantly as he can, trying to prove to himself and Arat that they are equals under the Tecton.
Arat waits until Pylor is gone, and then places his forehead on the desk.
Notes:
1) Meanwhile, back in Capitol.... [return]