Sime~Gen Roleplaying: District Controller's Office Scenario
Episode #61: Servitude (8/5/99)
Jeniard's hands and tentacles massage Arat's shoulders with the skill of many years of very specific practice.
Arat is slumped over his desk, trying to pretend Pylor will not be coming back from break soon.
Jeniard: ~~soothing~~
Jeniard: Everything's going just how you wanted it, isn't it?
Arat mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "more's the pity".
Pylor staggers towards Arat's office, fifteen minutes late due to having mistakenly closed his eyes "just for a moment".
Jeniard: Shhh. [rubs shoulders some more]
Jeniard: Everything's going to go great. You'll see.
Jeniard hopes so, anyway, because Arat on another transfer like that last one is going to be about as much use to the Tecton as a legless horse to a farmer.
Pylor is, alas, still three-quarters asleep.
Pylor is therefore (on the plus side) in no condition to feel strongly about anything except sleep, not even his dislike of a certain overly demanding Controller.
Pylor ducks into the hall bathroom long enough to splash a little bit more cold water on his face, in hopes that he will be alert enough to keep up with Arat, at least for a while.
Arat: I can't do this. [decides]
Arat straightens.
Jeniard: Oh, no you don't.
Jeniard had been afraid something like this was coming.
Pylor is slightly more alert (or at least damp) as he reaches Arat's office.
Jeniard: You're going to go through with it and everything will be fine.
Arat: Shen, he's here.
Arat's newly found resolution wavers as he zlins the Donor's field through the door.
Jeniard lets go of Arat's shoulders and stands back.
Pylor opens the door and slips through.
Arat: Pylor.
Pylor nods towards Jeniard, covering a yawn with one hand.
Arat does not demand to know where Pylor has been these extra 15 minutes, that he was forced to depend upon Jeniard instead, although that is what his nager is demanding.
Pylor: Arat. Sorry, I fell asleep.
Pylor offers this more as an explanation than an apology; he feels that Arat has to expect this sort of thing if he doesn't let his Donor get enough sleep.
Arat: Yes. Well. [can't think of what to say in place of a reprimand]
Arat: You're here now.
Arat gets up, restlessly.
Pylor: Yes.
Pylor manages ~~ support ~~, feeling a bit more awake as his field responds to Arat's need.
Arat goes over to Pylor, using his secondary like an icebreaker as their fields intersect.
Arat has found this regrettable technique does make things more bearable, at least after he's been away from Pylor for some time.
Pylor takes Arat's hands, inspecting the laterals clinically.
Pylor: You've been fretting.
Arat stiffens automatically at the accusation, but of course it's true. If anything, it's an understatement.
Arat manages to not snap anything defensive like, "Well, I've been under a lot of stress lately", or "I could be a lot more relaxed if I knew I wasn't going to abort at least once during our transfer".
Arat however doesn't have any readily available substitute answers lined up.
Pylor lets go of Arat's hands and moves towards the desk, pulling Arat after him with his nager.
Pylor: Come on, at least sit down and have some tea.
Pylor knows better than to try to feed a channel in this condition.
Arat follows him, and sits down resentfully but without verbal complaint.
Pylor makes two cups of tea and brings them over to the desk, handing one to Arat.
Arat is feeling a complicated combination of anger, fear and need which doesn't lessen with any amount of application to duty.
Arat nods, belatedly, and takes the cup.
Arat is trying to decide what in shen he was thinking four weeks ago.
Jeniard has been standing silently, watching and zlinning the two of them.
Pylor leans back in his chair and lets his eyelids sag until they are almost closed, and Arat is a blur.
Pylor finds that this allows his Donor instincts to fool him into believing that Arat is just a channel in need, and makes it easier to set aside his personal dislike.
Pylor just hopes that the same instincts will get him through this--he suspects he won't get a second chance to get his career back on track.
Arat takes a small sip of his tea, and picks up a piece of paper that was on his desk.
Pylor hears the rustle of paper, and is encouraged by this evidence that Arat is actually attempting to get some work done.
Pylor opens his eyes, long enough to take a sip of tea.
Arat frowns at the paperwork, unable to concentrate on it.
Pylor sees Arat's uncustomary inattentiveness.
Pylor rises to the challenge, and tries to find a better balance to his support that will allow Arat to concentrate.
Arat is finding the very bad previous month, and semi-Donorless four weeks since, have worn on his control, something he doesn't like one bit.
Pylor is, of course, working blind and without any clear idea in what way his support is off.
Pylor only has Arat's reaction to go by.
Pylor: ~~ fumbling ~~
Arat sets down his tea.
Arat: [so he won't spill it]
Arat turns to look at Pylor, able to tell after a few moments what Pylor is trying to do, but unsure whether it'd be advisable to offer instruction or not.
Arat is, if truth be told, terrified of squelching what little goodwill Pylor may be capable of toward him, with some ill-timed comment.
Pylor grimly keeps experimenting.
Pylor: ~~ determination ~~
Arat breaks out in a sweat as he weighs the possibility of a transfer as bad as, or worse, than last month's versus a few more endless wide-gaping minutes of Pylor's experiment.
Pylor tries all the subtle alterations he can think of, and actually manages to slide through the right combination, on his way to somewhere else.
Arat: Wait!
Arat: [despite himself]
Arat: You almost had it.
Jeniard is watching intensely.
Arat immediately feels ridiculous for the somewhat desperate outburst, and of course anger at feeling ridiculous.
Arat: [and insecurity because of the self-anger, and so on, and so forth]
Pylor ignores Arat's frowning, and tries to repeat that part of the exercise, only slower.
Pylor watches Arat closely, in hopes of recognizing whatever it was he did, if he can manage to do it again.
Arat's expressive Farris face subtly alters from faintly horrified illness to wincing stress to pathetic hope and relief.
Pylor holds on to the configuration evoking pathetic-hope-and-relief, as best he can.
Pylor: Is that better?
Arat: Yes. [sincerely]
Arat: It is.
Arat forces himself to also say, "Thank you."
Arat finds it galling to thank somebody for torturing him in the name of, or rather not in the name of, learning, but knows Pylor has a fetish for gratitude.
Jeniard follows the interaction thoughtfully.
Jeniard of course is still making regular reports to the Powers that Be, regarding Arat and Pylor as well.
Pylor actually warms to Arat's sincerity, which steadies the incipient wobble as he tries to hold a much tighter focus than he's ever tried before.
Arat: Perhaps we... ought to go to the transfer suite early.
Arat is thinking there may not be two opportunities to catch Pylor while the Donor is feeling positive.
Pylor grunts assent, as he corrects a wobble that threatened to take him out of Arat's comfort zone.
Pylor gets to his feet.
Arat catches Jeniard's eye.
Jeniard nods in agreement.
Jeniard is actually amazed anything this positive has happened at all, considering in another day or so Arat would have been to the point of throttling the man.
Jeniard may have an overly-realistic view of Arat's threshold of patience.
Arat rises and walks out the door without saying anything else.
Pylor misses this byplay, as he follows Arat, trying to maintain the proper spacing.
Jeniard brings up the rear.
Jeniard is careful not to interfere nagerically.
Pylor's focus wavers a bit as he encounters the stairs, but he manages not to lose it entirely.
Pylor corrects the waver as they reach level hallway again.
Arat keeps his eyes on the floor, telling himself that it will be over soon, if this breakthrough can just be sustained for a little bit more.
Pylor is starting to sweat with the effort.
Arat reaches the assigned transfer suite, and enters. [it has not yet been prepared, due to Pylor not having had a chance to beat him to it]
Pylor wonders whether he'll be able to hold this up long enough.
Pylor is counting the seconds to transfer as fervently as any Sime.
Jeniard enters after them, and sets the "In use - do not disturb" sign.
Pylor just hopes that the staff managed to clear out everything Arat's allergic to, and put in a Farris medkit, because he didn't have time to check, due to his involuntary nap.
Jeniard, who has nursemaided Arat through a good number of difficult times, loses no time in setting about to check the room's accoutrements, leaving Pylor to deal with Arat.
Jeniard is, however, keeping a close zlin on them as he does so.
Pylor follows Arat towards the lounge.
Arat walks over to the transfer lounge and sits down stiffly, trying not to behave as though he is becoming increasingly fearful of the upcoming transfer.
Pylor sits next to Arat.
Pylor takes a deep breath to steady himself, and then tries to bring his focus tighter, now that he doesn't have to walk as well.
Arat looks down at his hands in his lap, trying to concentrate on the present and visualize a good transfer, while working on getting a minute trembling in his hands to stop before Pylor gets a chance to feel them.
Arat feels Pylor's exploratory changes.
Pylor reaches for Arat's hands.
Pylor is not used to dealing with Farrises, as has been noted, and tries to gage whether Arat's need is peaking.
Arat, if truth be told, is having a difficult time discovering any traces of intil in himself.
Arat is not too happy about this - it will be a disaster if Pylor succeeds in taking a step forward in his awareness, only to fail at transfer because Arat was unable to make himself perform adequately.
Pylor: This isn't going to work if you can't let go.
Arat: I know.
Arat thinks there's no use in telling Pylor he usually meditates alone before transfer, he usually has someone else for a Donor, he's afraid of transfer with Pylor after their last one....
Jeniard comes back over, satisfied in his inspections, and zlins them unobtrusively.
Arat closes his eyes and tries to think of another Donor, which is the oldest trick in the book for this problem.
Arat: [and also the least possible for someone else to detect!]
Pylor wonders what sort of rogue techniques Nick would use to handle this situation as he cautiously tries to add a bit of temptation to his projection.
Arat through a superhuman effort, manages not to tell Pylor that his attempt at subtle temptation comes across like a cheap hooker hanging out of a window to Arat's hypersensitive nerves.
Arat tries to think of Nick instead.
Arat tries, rather, to think of a non-existent, but nonetheless very alluring, Donor who is very much like Nick but with Jeniard's permanence and loyalty.
Pylor thinks he catches a hint of response/need from Arat.
Arat thinks that isn't enough.
Arat: Use your hands. [to Pylor]
Pylor slides his hands down Arat's arms, caressing his lateral sheaths coaxingly.
Arat stiffens, as the pleasurable sensations travel down his nerves.
Pylor has the physical part of the exercise down pat, and the closer contact pulls his nager a Farris-perceptible fraction closer to where it should be.
Arat thinks back to his First Transfer, or rather his kill. The woman, a family servant, had not only raised Arat from a baby, but had also - before she died - taught him what a Donor could be to a channel.
Arat's laterals moisten at the old, bittersweet memory of revelation and loss.
Arat has used this memory in this way before, although in his reports it has always been noted simply as "certain past experiences".
Pylor optimistically tries a particular stroke that a Sime woman he used to date liked.
Arat feels more confident in his ability to handle the transfer, with Pylor continuing to be positive on it and with this much evidence that getting started will not be a problem.
Pylor feels Arat steady and respond in a more normal fashion, and begins to hope that he can actually pull this off.
Jeniard slips out of the room for a moment to verify that the back up channels and such that have been scheduled in case of emergency are in place.
Pylor coaxes Arat's laterals out of their sheaths.
Arat's laterals emerge, hot and quivering.
Arat's handling tentacles grip Pylor's arms more firmly.
Pylor has not, fortunately, thought through the consequences of managing to give even a decent transfer to a Farris channel, career-wise, at least as it affects his ambition to stay far away from tangled black hair and beaky noses.
Jeniard returns, satisfied with the back up.
Jeniard settles into position to monitor, near them but not interfering.
Pylor leans forward, offering lip contact and selyn.
Arat is very much in control; it is a curious state, somewhere between clinical and deliberate fantasy.
Arat hesitates several moments, waiting for the official time to arrive, which it will not: They are very early.
Pylor is having to put more and more effort into maintaining his focus, as he starts to tire.
Arat then realizes there can be no point to waiting, and leans forward to make the 5th contact.
Pylor has lost track of the time, and assumes that Arat has started this on time.
Arat begins his draw, quick but steady and controlled.
Pylor lowers his barriers to allow Arat to draw selyn as rapidly as possible.
Pylor has no conception of exactly how fast a Farris channel can draw, except theoretically (and not much there, as he avoids learning about Farrises).
Arat senses Pylor's willingness and opens up, seeking a swift and satisfying transfer, gradually increasing as he tests Pylor's limits.
Pylor's eyes widen as the flow climbs rapidly beyond anything he's experienced before.
Pylor feels much the way one would if one turned on what one thought was a normal garden hose, only to have it suddenly grow to a three-inch fire hose.
Arat experiences a brief frustration, and then settles to Pylor's limit, finishing out the transfer and coming rather nearer to ~satisfaction~ than he'd ever expected.
Pylor slumps back against the couch, too exhausted and wrung out to really be sure whether he feels great or lousy.
Pylor: ~~ wrung out ~~
Pylor: That was...
Pylor forces his eyes open long enough to check Arat.
Pylor: How are you?
Arat looks relieved, mostly.
Arat: I'm fine.
Arat seems rather surprised.
Jeniard zlins them both carefully.
Pylor sees that Jeniard isn't hovering, and decides that Arat is probably telling the truth.
Jeniard is mainly wondering if Arat is going to get out of Pylor's presence before he performs his usual post-transfer crash and burn.
Arat: That went rather better than I had expected.
Pylor himself zlins like he is not going anywhere soon.
Arat: You were... much more open.
Pylor: That's good.
Pylor's eyelids droop again.
Pylor: ~~ tired ~~
Pylor: Never felt like that before....
Arat stands, moving away from the transfer lounge.
Arat reaches for a towel and meticulously wipes off his arms.
Arat: I will contact you regarding a follow up meeting on this. Meanwhile, report to your new channel as assigned.
Pylor is struck by a sudden thought, and straightens.
Arat: After your day leave, of course....
Pylor: You're not post.
Arat looks at Pylor.
Pylor's nager crumples as he realizes that all that effort didn't work, and he has failed with Arat again.
Arat tries to zlin Pylor, but Jeniard pushes him firmly toward the door.
Jeniard: I'll handle this. You get your sleep.
Arat: But.... [leaves]
Jeniard is probably the only person who can get Arat out a door that fast and live to tell about it.
Pylor buries his face in his hands.
Jeniard goes over to Pylor and sits down beside him.
Jeniard puts his arm around his shoulders.
Jeniard: There, there, don't be upset.
Jeniard: You did a great job, I zlinned it all so I know.
Pylor: Not good enough.
Jeniard: Better than last month!
Jeniard: And considering that's what you were building on, I think you deserve more credit than you're giving yourself.
Pylor's mouth twists in a cynical half-grimace.
Jeniard: There aren't that many Donors who can serve Arat at all. [points out]
Pylor: That won't be enough to salvage what's left of my career, I expect.
Jeniard: Why not? ~surprised~
Jeniard thinks Pylor must have gotten a much more rotten transfer than he seemed to, with all this kind of talk he's making.
Pylor would, perhaps, have appreciated the transfer more if it came from just about any other set of tentacles.
Jeniard: Don't break all your eggs before they're counted. Didn't Arat say you are to report to your assigned channel as usual?
Jeniard: And didn't he say he was pleased with how it went?
Pylor: Yeah. I suspect he'd have been happy with anything that left him alive. So, I suppose I spend another month working with a Second.
Pylor: Who apparently hasn't a clue what's going to be demanded of her, if she succeeds in Qualifying First.
Jeniard looks at Pylor curiously.
Jeniard: Well, maybe that's why you were picked to work with her? So you could give her a heads up?
Pylor: Probably. I suppose somebody has to do the dirty work.
Jeniard: Like having transfer with Arat?
Jeniard is starting to resent Pylor's attitude.
Pylor shrugs.
Pylor: I don't like the man, any more than he likes me.
Pylor: And I doubt that will change, after all these years.
Jeniard: It's not that he doesn't like you, it's that you treat him so badly. If you'd just give him half a chance, like you did these past few days, it wouldn't be so bad. But with Arat, if you keep picking on him, and insulting him, and not trying your hardest with your nager, it brings out the worst in him.
Pylor personally doubts that Arat has a "best" to bring out.
Pylor is well aware that Jeniard isn't exactly a neutral party where Arat is concerned.
Jeniard: Arat requires loyalty in a Donor, even if it's only purchased loyalty, or one-month-only-in-front-of-strangers loyalty.
Jeniard: He's told me some of the things you've said to him. About his parents, about his training. Those words cut to the quick. How can you expect him to trust and depend on you when you say those things?
Pylor: How can I be loyal to him when he treats me as his grandparents treated mine, when they were Pen-raised servants working off their indentures?
Jeniard: Because he's your Controller, Pylor. ~frustrated~
Jeniard: Use a little common sense, man.
Jeniard: He said the transfer went well, and he told you to report to your next channel.
Jeniard: Why do you think your career is still doomed?
Jeniard: Because you don't plan on keeping up the good work you did in the last three days?
Jeniard has never had much difficulty solving the loyalty-to-Arat-reaps-rewards equation, having worked it out on his own at the tender age of 14 back at the Othwol School for Channels.
Jeniard: Or because you don't think you can lay off of Arat long enough to remain in his good graces?
Pylor, on the other hand, had built a very satisfactory career in to total absence of Arat, and thus, of any incentive to be loyal to him.
Pylor pulls himself gracelessly to his feet.
Pylor: If the past three days is what it takes to stay on Arat's good side, I doubt I'd survive it long.
Pylor yawns.
Pylor: I've got to get some sleep.
Pylor starts to weave tiredly towards the door.
Jeniard looks reproachfully after him, thinking that trying to give Pylor good advice is like trying to give locomotives fried eggs. There is a basic common-sense incompatibility.