Sime~Gen Roleplaying on IRC: Snake River Dam Scenario
Episode #42: Birthday Party (9/21/00)
Nick is enjoying the rain while it lasts, as snow is even nastier to slog through than mud.
Cris pokes her head into Sayward's tent.
Nick was not told by Arat what exactly he is supposed to be doing, but assumes it will be clear when he arrives.
Cris: Hey, the boss man is looking for you!
Nick hopes it isn't another long meeting, or another grilling on the selyn shortage, for that matter.
Sayward: Yeah, I'm coming.
Cris: He wants you in his office, on the double.
Cris has been practicing her out-T slang.
Sayward: [pulling on her semi dry boots] Okay, okay. Keep your shirt on, cousin.
Nick could understand if Arat sent him as a sacrificial victim, though: the wind was from the blasting site overnight, and this morning Arat's eyes were almost swollen shut.
Cris looks down at her Diplomatic Corps uniform with surprise, until she deciphers the idiom.
Cris: Yeah, right.
Sayward heads towards Marty Birch's office. She gave up on dry feet quite a few weeks ago. The smell in her tent though is beginning to get to her.
Nick takes a moment to ponder how the regimen of Farris-safe antihistamines might be varied for better effect.
Cris keeps stride with Sayward.
Nick sees Sayward and Cris approaching Birch's office as well, and his hopes for a quick escape start to wither.
Sayward: I wonder what's up.
Cris doesn't say anything, though she is thankful her nager can't give her thoughts away.
Cris: We'll find out soon enough.
Nick waves at Sayward and Cris as they approach.
Sayward waves back at Nick.
Cris waves also.
Cris: Hello, Sosu Nick. You're expected.
Sayward: Hey, Nick, how goes it?
Nick greets Cris and Sayward politely.
Sayward smiles at the Donor. Her feet are now quite wet and cold.
Nick: Do you know what Mr. Birch wants today?
Nick wishes Arat had been in good enough condition to brief him.
Sayward: Haven't a clue. I just spoke to him yesterday he didn't mention a thing.
Cris sloshes vigorously through the potholes.
Nick is even more mystified than before.
Nick: I suppose we'd better find out, then.
Sayward: After you, Sosu!
Nick holds the door for Chris and Sayward.
Sayward bows and enters.
Mass Chorus: Surprise!!!!!
Jeniard: Surprise! [with the others]
Mr. Birch: Surprise!!!
Nick blinks.
Arat stands there looking staid and dignified amidst a scene that could only be described as... well, birthday party decorations. Complete with cake. He has a number of handkerchiefs in his hand.
Sayward has to stop herself from jumping backward out the door and running over Nick in the process.
Mr. Birch takes out his firestriker and lights the candles on the cake.
Arat wouldn't be caught dead chorusing "surprise", but some vigorously applied blackmail on Jeniard's part did assure his presence at least.
Mass Chorus: Haaaaaaaaaapppy birrrrrthdaaayyy tooo youuuusssssss
Mass Chorus: Haaaaaaaaaapppy birrrrrthdaaayyy tooo youuuussssssssss................
Mr. Birch steps back as the candles prove to have not simple wicks but sparklers... probably hand-made by the demolitions unit.
Edka is indeed watching the sputtering wicks with proprietary pride.
Mass Chorus: Haaapppy birrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrthday Sayward and Nick [this last part extremely jumbled as the crowd falls off pace]
Sayward looks at Marty and the others. Surprised she is.
Mass Chorus: Haaaaaapppy birrrrthdayyyyy tooooo youssssssss.........
Mr. Birch beams as the candles whoosh sparks and smoke into the air,
Guests dissolve into clapping and cheering. There are about 50 people stuffed into the place, mostly supposed to be friends of Nick and Sayward, although a few total strangers accidentally invited by Mr. Birch's secretary, who had gotten stuck with planning it all.
Nick was trained to Snake's rigorous standards, which is just as well, as otherwise his surprise would have flattened every Sime in the room.
Sayward: How did you know?! [to Marty, but looks sideways at Cris]
Arat surreptitiously moves away from the converging mob, and not incidentally well away from the black smoke sputtering from the "candles".
Mr. Birch: Well, you know we keep a very complete file on you.
Mr. Birch grins slyly.
Nick hadn't stopped to think of it before, but it is twelve years to the day since he Established.
Sayward shakes her head of course that would be it.
Nick doesn't have to ask how complete his file is; he's gotten to know Tecton recordkeeping quite well.
Sayward: Nick? It's your birthday too?
Sayward is still feeling a bit overwhelmed at all the fuss.
Nick: Not my natal birthday, like you celebrate in Gen Territory, but I Established twelve years ago today.
Sayward smiles and tries to remember which job she was on twelve years ago.
Nick has not formerly made a big deal out of that, since the memory of Prunida dragging him off to the Tecton training camp the following morning is not pleasant.
Sayward: Well then congratulations. Uh, I hope that's okay to say.
Sayward can't remember what the protocol is for such a thing.
Nick: Sure. And a very pleasant birthday to you, as well.
Sayward chuckles.
Nick's English is fluent enough, but lacks an idiom here and there.
Sayward: I am having trouble remembering which one it is.
Mr. Birch: [expansively] Every so often we like to take a few moments to recognize our people who are contributing above and beyond the call of duty.
Sayward: But thank you!
Mr. Birch claps Sayward on the back hard enough to down a moose.
Guests surround Nick and Sayward, offering their congratulations between their sentences to each other.
Sayward turns on Marty Birch and shakes a finger at him.
Sayward: You! What possessed you to do all -- this?!
Sayward is having a hard time suppressing a smile.
Mr. Birch: Well, it looked like you could use a pick-me-up.
Jeniard meanwhile has spotted Arat thinking about making an escape, and heads off in that direction.
Mr. Birch hands her a cup of rather well-spiked punch.
Nick turns to looks at Arat, wondering the same thing, then shakes his head.
Mr. Birch: And I think we missed a few years, didn't we?
Sayward sniffs and smiles.
Nick's gaze then fixes on Jeniard.
Nick makes his way after the two channels.
Mr. Birch: Considering the challenges we're facing, we better celebrate when the opportunities arise.
Cris beams at Sayward, and her nager sparkles happily.
Sayward: Yes.
Jeniard intercepts Arat after only one actual step toward the door.
Nick: Jeniard, didn't anyone ever tell you that the information in a Tecton Donor's file is supposed to be kept strictly confidential?
Nick isn't particularly displeased, however.
Jeniard: Ah, look, here's the birthday boy now! [beams]
Jeniard uses Nick's timely arrival as part of his heading-Arat-off-at-the-pass ploy.
Sayward grabs Marty in a bear hug, nearly lifting him off the floor.
Sayward: That's for being a good friend!
Mr. Birch is rather startled by Sayward's strength, but after all, she is a construction manager.
Nick has 75% of the Narosian love of celebrations, after all.
Mr. Birch: Wooooofff!
Guests cheer and clap at Sayward's display.
Arat: Congratulations. [stiffly, but not grudgingly]
Sayward looks around and catches Cris trying to escape.
Sayward: Oh no you don't, come here!
Arat finds the situation physically and nagerically uncomfortable, and definitely wishes he wasn't there, but he understands the spirit in which Jeniard wanted him to be there.
Nick grins at Arat and Jeniard, genuinely ~~ touched ~~, then adjusts his nager to shield Arat from the worst of the crowd.
Arat appears quite relieved by Nick's actions, although it can't help for long; already people are reconverging on Nick to pat his back and offer their congrats.
Sayward hugs Cris a great deal more gently.
Cris is rather startled to be grabbed by a Gen in a bear hug.
Nick: You know, I don't think I've ever had an Establishment party before.
Nick: Whose idea was it?
Jeniard: Well, Arat and I thought it'd be nice to do something to show our appreciation.
Cris thinks it is kind of nice, though; Sayward's is in a very good mood.
Jeniard: Didn't we?
Cris: Thank you.
Arat manages to look stoic and sheepish at the same time, which is very difficult to do.
Arat's features' Farris expressiveness are up to the task, though.
Sayward is so happy she has forgotten her perpetually cold feet.
Sayward: You are welcomed! Thank you Cris!
Arat of course had nothing to do with this, aside from being shotgunned into it at the last possible minute.
Cris: I've never seen an out-Territory birthday party before.
Sayward: I usually don't bother. Just happy to have survived another year is all.
Cris: Now you're supposed to feed everyone, isn't that right?
Sayward: Uh, no. I think they all get a piece of cake though.
Nick gives Arat a happy smile.
Nick is indeed feeling much lighter-hearted than he has since Snake's poisoning was revealed.
Cris: Can I try it?
Cris is eager to engage in the exotic ritual of cutting the cake.
Sayward: Sure! Marty do you mind?
Edka: Speaking of the cake, better get to those "candles" before they melt the icing.
Mr. Birch: Sure, go right ahead!
Cris peers at the elaborate confectionery patterns with interest.
Cris: Do you eat all those little black specks, too?
Mr. Birch frowns.
Mr. Birch: We don't eat the candles. You have to take those off first.
Mr. Birch wonders if that warning was really necessary. He has heard Simes like odd foods.
Nick drifts towards the refreshment table, towing Arat behind him.
Sayward: That's a really nice cake. Where did you find such a thing around here, Marty?
Nick: My goodness, I didn't know there was a bakery around here.
Cris very carefully removed the sputtered-out sparklers from the cake.
Nick: Jeniard, who made the arrangements for the refreshments?
Jeniard notes Nick drifting toward the food, Genlike, and nudges Arat into following.
Jeniard: Well, for that you'll have to thank Miz Peck, Mr. Birch's accomplished secretary.
Nick: I will.
Mr. Birch: With all these extra workers, there are some with some rather remarkable talents.
Jeniard: The difficulty was in obtaining the ingredients. Cake flour isn't exactly a going commodity up here.
Nick: True. And sugar's been a bit hard to find, as well.
Nick: An amazing effort!
Sayward: I am impressed!
Someone hands Sayward a small piece of cake on a plate.
Cris studiously tries to pick the bits of candle ash off the frosting with the tips of her tentacles.
Sayward looks around to thank whoever for the cake but finds they have moved on.
Cris carefully cuts another slice of cake and moves it to a plate.
Nick: Does it taste as good as it looks? [to Sayward]
Arat re-enters the press of the crowd, compelled by Nick's and Jeniard's nagers.
Sayward is beginning to feel her reserve slipping. She will not embarrass Marty by crying. The heck with that she will not embarrass herself by blubbering all over the place.
Arat tries not to look too distressed, for Nick's sake. This sort of party is not at all the sort of party he would go to on purpose. That sort of party doesn't happen in rude chaotic wilderness encampments.
Sayward: Yes it does!
Cris zlins Sayward getting all emotional and goes to hug her.
Jeniard: Oh, thank you. [as he is given a piece]
Cris: Hey, take it easy.
Nick is meanwhile munching on a piece of his own.
Nick: You should try this, Arat!
Sayward: Are those cherries? [smiles at Cris and regains a bit of composure]
Cris has learned that Sayward seems to be calmer with friends around.
Cris: Yes, I think so. Though preserved in some way, I think.
Nick offers a forkful of cake to Arat.
Arat looks at the cherries. He would rather drop dead than put a maraschino cherry in his mouth. Particularly at a loud, boisterous birthday party.
Sayward is glad that they are. Cherries in the cake! How did they know?
Arat: No, thank you. [as politely as possible]
Cris finds the Gen focus on eating quite remarkable. But actually, the frosting doesn't smell bad, and any kind of fruit is welcome compared to the usual camp fare.
Sayward: Cris! You told!
Cris blushes.
Cris: Well, it wasn't a secret, was it?
Nick is in too good a mood to insist; Arat did eat a bunch of grapes earlier, after all.
Sayward blushes a bit too. She remembers the night she went on and on about the lack of fruit up here.
Sayward: Thanks my friend.
Cris nibbles on a bit of frosting. She has liked sweets ever since she was a child.
Nick makes short work of his cake.
Jeniard licks crumbs off his fingers.
Sayward: Marty, you old reprobate, thanks again.
Mr. Birch pulls a huge box out from the closet. It is wrapped in brown paper but festooned with a big red bow.
Nick: Yes, indeed.
Mr. Birch: And here's a little present from the company . . .
Nick notes that Jeniard has succumbed to temptation.
Jeniard had always enjoyed cake as a boy in Gen Territory, and had lamented its absence for years after becoming Sime-slender.
Sayward's eyes become wide as any child's.
Mr. Birch: In honor of everything you've accomplished and everything we hope you will accomplish . . .
Sayward: For me?!
Mr. Birch: Absolutely!
Sayward: But, but....
Mr. Birch fills her arms with the box.
Sayward looks around for somewhere to put down her plate.
Someone takes it for her.
Sayward: Thanks. [this time she manages before they disappear]
Nick notes that Jeniard seems much more at home at this out-Territory style celebration than Arat.
Cris pulls out two smaller boxes from the same hiding place.
Nick inspects the large box with interest.
Cris: And these are for both of you.
Cris gives one of the boxes to Nick and the other to Sayward.
Jeniard looks on with approval and pleasure as the next ritual familiar from his childhood commences: the presents!
Sayward is dying to see what is in the box. She hasn't had a present of any kind in years.
Jeniard: Here, I'll hold that for you. [takes the 2nd one so Sayward can handle the big one]
Nick takes the box, turning it curiously.
Cris picked out these presents herself. She drew on a Diplomatic slush fund usually used to entertain politicians, and hopes she won't get called on the carpet for it. But the gesture seemed appropriate in the spirit of inter-territorial co-operation.
Nick: You know, I've never had an establishment-day present before.
Sayward places the box on the corner of a near by table and unwraps it carefully.
Nick watches to see what will emerge.
Nick has always liked presents, even if very few come his way.
Cris watches as Sayward extracts a pair of high water-proof boots with colorful woolen laces.
Nick: Those will keep your feet warm!
Sayward lifts the boots from the box and turns to Marty.
Sayward: How did you know?
Arat wonders how any Sime could not know.
Nick looks at Cris, suspecting that she had something to do with it.
Jeniard grins. "Sime Magic."
Sayward had been very careful not to complain about her cold wet feet.
Nick chuckles, having temporarily forgotten that Roosle thought it was just that.
Sayward: I would guess so!
Nick: Try them on, Sayward!
Sayward cringes. She would rather wash her feet and put on clean dry socks first.
Sayward: I think I had better wait until I can get dry socks first.
Nick chuckles.
Nick: That's probably a good idea.
Sayward also would not want to offend everyone's nose by taking her boots off in a crowded room.
Arat resigns himself to zlinning the cold moisture squish between Sayward's toes for a while longer.
Nick's attention returns to the package in his hands.
Cris: Oh, then open the other box!
Sayward: Okay.
Nick waits for Sayward to open her second present.
Sayward takes the smaller box back from Jeniard and smiles to find four pairs of socks!
Sayward: Oh, Cris you are a wonder!
Sayward: Thank you!
Cris grins.
Cris: I thought you would like that!
Nick is glad, for the sake of the Simes on the site: he would hate to have them zlinning Sayward breaking in a new pair of boots with inadequate padding.
Sayward: Now I can stay warm and dry!
Nick: And just in time for winter!
Sayward: I can't thank you all enough. I just don't have the words....
Mr. Birch is pleased that his employee records are complete enough to include shoe sizes.
Arat can zlin, beyond the party and the construction site and deep into the woods for miles around them, people who would murder for Sayward's now-spare set of boots.
Arat frowns to himself, and thinks about the coming winter.
Mr. Birch considers that an added benefit of the present is that the air in the conference room will be fresher without the odor of moldering leather.
Jeniard elbows Arat.
Jeniard: "Lighten up!" [whispers out of the side of his mouth]
Sayward is losing her battle with the tears. This will never do!
Nick notes Arat's uneasy frown and steps up his ~~ support ~~
Nick also see's Sayward's face crumple, and decides a distraction is in order.
Nick lifts up his present.
Nick: I wonder what this could be?
Nick starts to remove the paper, as soon as people seem appropriately sidetracked.
Cris beams.
Jeniard knows it can't be socks; Nick is famous for his extensive wool sock collection, a holdover from his year with Snake.
Sayward takes a deep breath and thinks calming thoughts. There is an advantage to having a Sime roommate.
Sayward looks intently at Nick as he unwraps his present.
Nick opens up the box, and pulls out a warm knitted hat.
Nick: A hat! This will keep me warm.
Nick holds it up so that everyone can admire it.
Sayward: Great hat Nick!
Sayward thinks someone has been knitting her little fingers to the bone.
Nick reaches back into the box.
Nick: And what's this? A matching scarf!
Nick: With fringes!
Sayward: Bravo! Good for you!
Nick wraps the long scarf around his neck.
Nick: And....
Nick pulls out two gloves, long enough to reach his elbows.
Jeniard: I hope you like the color. And does everything fit OK? Arat provided the measurements. [zlinning anxiously]
Jeniard: Of course, most of the yarn available was from across the lake, so it's all in colors that are about two years out of fashion in Gen Territory....
Nick's nager adds a great deal of ~~ warmth and appreciation ~~ to his support.
Mr. Birch shoots a sharp glance at Jeniard.
Nick pulls on one glove.
Arat catches the glance and looks sheepish.
Nick: They fit nicely. And I'm sure they'll start a new fashion here!
Arat thought that the gloves and so forth were silly enough without it bringing them more flak on the subject of manliness.
Mr. Birch has not yet become accustomed to the Sime penchant for blurting out the truth when a white lie would be more useful.
Nick puts on the second glove and wiggles his fingers.
Nick: They're very warm. Thank you all!
Sayward: I think they are wonderful! They look quite handsome, don't you think so Marty?
Jeniard beams in gratification as Nick clearly enjoys them.
Mr. Birch: Yes, good and warm.
Arat can't believe he is going to be forced to go about his daily business with Nick dressed that way. He can hardly prevent Nick from wearing them, not after he received them so publicly.
Mr. Birch jots down a mental note to make a present to himself of a new down-filled jacket; with the winter coming up he will need it.
Nick's happiness is also no doubt a strong factor in Jeniard's gratification, as he is not making much effort to keep it controlled, beyond what's required to keep all the Simes from wandering around with ear-to-ear grins plastered on their faces.
Guests are wandering around with ear-to-ear grins plastered on their faces, but to be fair that is at least as much to do with the punch drunk by most of the Gens as it has to do with Nick.
Nick takes off his presents, as it is a bit too warm for them in the middle of the crowd.
Cris is giddy from the happy Gen nager filling the room.
Cris nibbles a bit more pink frosting.
Sayward hasn't smiled or cried this much in years! She would never have guessed that anyone would even notice or care about her enough to do something like this.
Arat then considers that he is very lucky to have access to Nick at all, what with the power Snake still has over him, and his shoulders wilt. Nick's ridiculous outfits are the least of his worries.
Mr. Birch: Now let's pass around the glasses of punch. That pink stuff there is fortified; the citrus is not.
Mr. Birch starts filling cups and passing them around.
Mr. Birch: And there's some trin tea brewing there on the sideboard, for those who prefer that.
Nick throws an arm each around Arat and Jeniard.
Nick: Thank you both!
Nick: ~~ affection ~~
Arat looks at Nick in some surprise, but allows the gesture.
Jeniard grins at him.
Jeniard: You're welcome!
Somebody offers Mr. Birch some punch in a small cup.
Cris hurries over to the teakettle to do the honors.
Nick looks around at the smiling faces.
Mr. Birch takes a glass of punch himself and holds it up.
Mr. Birch: Let's drink a toast.
Nick walks Arat and Jeniard closer to the tea.
Cris pours trin tea into small cups and passes them through the crowd.
Sayward accepts a cup of punch from someone.
Nick manages to snag tea for himself, and passes a second cup to Arat.
Sayward that someone keep disappearing before she can thank them properly.
Arat eyes Edka, making sure the explosives expert is not planning on indulging in any alcoholic beverages.
Mr. Birch: To Sayward and Nick -- Happy birthday this year and many, many more!
Edka is regretfully restricting himself to the citrus drink, as he is due to climb again later.
Arat, as has been pointed out by many people on many separate occasions (although not to his face) does not really know how to have a good time. At least not by the ordinary standards.
Edka lifts his cup.
Edka: Sayward and Nick!
Jeniard: To Sayward and Nick.
Sayward raises her cup in acknowledgement of the toast.
Jeniard repeats the toast, although it sounds like Sayward and Nick are getting married or something.
Nick has never been the subject of a toast before, but follows Sayward's example.
Sayward: Happy Establishment, Nick!
Nick: And a happy birthday to you, Sayward.
Nick has by now figured out that "happy birthday" is the proper English idiom.
Sayward is sure this is not the correct form of address but oh well.
Guests chorus "Hap happy birthstablishment Nickward!"
Cris tries the citrus punch.
Sayward: Thank you all so very much!
Mr. Birch doesn't hesitate to refill his cup at the first opportunity.
Nick has been in the audience when stoned TBT fans try to sing along with their idol, so he is inured to the sounds of a crowd trying to sing, each in their own key.
Sayward gathers up the wrapping paper and folds it neatly. Waste not want not.
Mr. Birch presses another glass of the pink stuff into Sayward's hands.
Mr. Birch carries glasses of punch to Nick and Arat.
Mr. Birch: You ought to try this stuff. It's really good. Home recipe.
Jeniard turns away temporarily to help someone move some folding chairs, and consequently doesn't notice what Mr. Birch has brought.
Nick glances at Arat.
Nick: What's in it?
Arat: No, thank you.
Arat: [on top of Nick's words]
Nick doesn't want to nurse Arat through an allergic reaction.
Mr. Birch has always found the addition of brandy to the wine and fruit juices makes the concoction extremely satisfying.
Arat would already be having a hecka allergic reaction if he hadn't been pumped full of anti-allergens so he could make it through this dust-festooned, party perfume-spritzed madhouse scene.
Mr. Birch: Mixture of wine and fruit juices, with a few secret ingredients.
Nick: It sounds very interesting.
Nick takes the offered cup, more to draw attention away from Arat's refusal than anything else.
Mr. Birch: Try it and you'll see. It's always a hit.
Sayward can hold her liquor very well but decides that with all the Simes in the room maybe she should go easy on the punch.
Nick takes a cautious sip, and his eyes start watering.
Arat wants to stop Nick from accepting any, but 1) he can zlin that Mr. Birch is proud of the mixture, and 2) it is Nick's party after all.
Nick swallows, and then coughs.
Nick: Very... unusual.
Arat zlins Nick in some concern.
Nick smiles at Mr. Birch, but refrains from taking a second sip immediately.
Sayward walks over to Nick and Marty.
Nick is hoping that he can get out of taking a second sip altogether.
Mr. Birch: A little different then your porstan, I guess.
Arat zlins the cup in an attempt to determine what the contents are.
Sayward: I see you have sampled the punch.
Sayward: A bit potent isn't it?
Nick: Very.
Mr. Birch: Keeps the blood flowing.
Mr. Birch grins amiably.
Nick is in fact a bit concerned about the amount of it that is being consumed, in this mixed-larity crowd from both sides of the border.
Sayward: Marty, this stuff should be illegal. But it is good.
Sayward smiles.
Nick: People are certainly enjoying it.
Arat's laterals slink back into his sheathes as he finishes his chemical analysis. Alcohol does figure in largely.
Sayward: How much of it did you make Marty?
Nick casts a surreptitious, longing glance at his set-aside cup of tea, but doesn't quite dare to set the punch aside while Mr. Birch is watching.
Mr. Birch: Enough to keep everyone's glass filled.
Sayward wonders about the capacity of the rest of the guests.
Nick's glass is in no danger of being emptied any time soon.
Sayward: I really hate to put a damper on things but what happens to Simes with drunk Gens around them?
Sayward isn't at all sure.
Jeniard catches Arat's attention and signals to him that he's leaving. He's been called in early to the emergency ward.
Nick: It depends on how drunk they are.
Sayward looks around the room . So far everyone looks happy.
Arat looks after the departing Jeniard with an expression of longing. OK, it's the door he was looking at.
Arat's nerves are thoroughly jangled by the crowd, even with Nick's nager buffering him and treating him to a warm-glowing-stomach and slightly burning throat feeling.
Cris: We'll keep an eye on them all.
Mr. Birch: Actually, folks, if you'd like to slip back with me to my office, you could sample my special stock.
Arat almost asks, "how well insulated is your office"?
Arat manages to close his mouth just in time. He glances at Nick; Nick must decide for them.
Sayward smiles.
Nick notes Arat's longing glance.
Mr. Birch: Let's get off where we can relax and not have to keep up appearances for the troops.
Sayward: Sounds like a grand idea!
Nick: That's very hospitable of you.
Nick: Although we can't stay very long; we're on duty soon.
Nick hopes that will excuse him from having his throat scalded again.
Nick likes porstan as much as the next person, but Mr. Birch's idea of a drink is a bit much for him.
Arat knows, of course, that Jeniard removed Nick entirely from duty for 24 hours on account of the birthday, but Nick doesn't know that yet.
Mr. Birch gestures towards the adjoining room, which contains a desk and work-table. While it's not constructed to be nagerically insulated, the huge bookshelves lining all the walls do provide more protection than the rest of the building.
Arat didn't know that either until about a half hour ago.
Sayward: Let me get my presents and I will join you.
Nick notes the insulating books, and hopes they will be enough.
Sayward has no illusion that left unattended her boots and socks might not decide to go for a walk.
Mr. Birch ushers Nick and Arat into his inner sanctum.
Nick scoops up his hat, scarf, and gloves, and follows Mr. Birch's invitation.
Nick was forced to put down his punch, of course, in order to pick up the gifts.
Mr. Birch worries for a moment about the impression that the stuffed boar head will make on the Simes; he understands they find hunting animals distasteful.
Nick does a double take when he spots the trophy.
Nick: What's that for?
Sayward squeezes in after Nick balancing her wonderful new boots and socks.
Arat sits down underneath the boar, and promptly begins to wonder why his ears, nose, throat, eyes and lungs are tingling.
Mr. Birch: Bagged that on a little hunting trip near Durgo.
Arat follows Nick's attention, notices the boar, gets up and moves to the far end of the table.
Nick sits beside Arat.
Nick: It's certainly an... unusual decoration.
Mr. Birch: Know it might seems a little odd to you, but Gens like to know a man can shoot a rifle. Makes them feel safe.
Nick: Er, yes.
Sayward: I did a project up that way they have some really good fishing too.
Nick has a feeling he knows just what a Gen would feel safe from, with proven ability to fire a rifle.
Mr. Birch fishes around in the secret compartment under the desk. He takes out a collection of shot glasses.
Arat's appalled expression transfers from the boar to the shot glasses.
Mr. Birch removes a cut crystal decanter from beneath the desk.
Mr. Birch: Now here's something you won't find every day.
Arat does a double take, as he realizes there is a compartment that is not only hidden to Gen eyes, but to zlinning as well.
Nick eyes the decanter a bit apprehensively.
Sayward has been treated to the special stock only once before.
Sayward is looking forward to it. She can't afford that kind of stuff but she likes it when she can get it.
Nick wonders how strong Mr. Birch's personal supply will be, considering what he thinks appropriate for an office party.
Arat zlins Sayward and Mr. Birch's anticipation and realizes that the "back room" was a special invitation.
Arat glances at Nick, wondering if Nick realizes that.
Mr. Birch: Distilled from fermented honey and a secret combination of roots and berries passed down for generations.
Arat himself cannot touch liquor, of course. It's against his principles.
Arat was convinced to do so once, when he was outnumbered and vulnerable. The consequences were, well, life-changing.
Mr. Birch pours some of the golden liquid into the shot glasses.
Mr. Birch: I guarantee you've never tasted anything like it.
Nick looks at the liquid: he has heard of honey beverages, but never seen one before.
Nick accepts the glass he is handed, and sniffs it cautiously.
Mr. Birch offers a shot glass of the "firewater" to Arat.
Nick discovers very quickly that he wasn't cautious enough.
Nick manages to turn his cough into a subdued gurgle.
Mr. Birch fills Sayward's glass 3/4 to the top and passes it to her.
Arat accepts the glass, but only raises it to his lips without actually imbibing any. He gets a good whiff of it though, and that sets his eyes to watering.
Sayward takes the glass with a big smile of thanks.
Sayward: You won't find anything smoother than this anywhere.
Nick is a bit more adventuresome than Arat: he lets a few drops moisten his lips.
Nick's eyes bulge.
Nick: It's very, um, powerful.
Sayward sips with relish the liquid sunshine.
Nick lowers the glass and cradles it in his hands, that being much safer than consuming the stuff.
Mr. Birch: Brewed by acolytes in a monastery and aged for 60 years.
Mr. Birch: It ought to be powerful.
Sayward: A little does go a long way.
Mr. Birch sips a bit of his own and can feel the hair growing on his chest.
Nick: Sixty years old, you said?
Arat zlins the effect on Mr. Birch and finds it unsettling.
Mr. Birch: That's right.
Arat zlins his drink in an attempt to determine what the secret ingredients are.
Sayward: You have excellent taste in spirits, Marty.
Mr. Birch grins expansively.
Nick wonders how shabby this monastery's walls are, if they store their paint thinner for sixty years between redecorations.
Nick has only 75% of Riyyh's taste in decorating, but still, he's taken no vow of poverty.
Mr. Birch: Let's make another toast.
Mr. Birch: To the success of our project!
Sayward would love to have a bottle of this stuff for her very own but that is way out of the question and her price range.
Nick: Yes--success.
Sayward: Success!
Arat goes through the obligatory raising his glass and bringing it to his lips again, in time with the others.
Nick raises the glass to his lips, careful to keep them tightly closed, and equally careful not to breathe until the fumes have had a moment to dissipate.
Nick discovers that his lips are damp, and licks the moisture off of them.
Mr. Birch sips deeply, and feels the heat of the liqueur warm him right down to his toes.
Nick thinks that the stuff tastes a bit less like paint thinner, when taken in very small doses.
Mr. Birch notices his guests are handling their drinks very gingerly.
Nick tries another very small sip, which tastes even better, as his tastebuds are starting to go numb.
Mr. Birch: Oh, hard liquor isn't against your customs, is it?
Sayward savors the aroma, the color the bite of a truly well made liquor.
Nick: Not really.
Mr. Birch sighs in relief.
Mr. Birch: For a moment I thought--
Nick takes a third sip, just to be diplomatic, because he can see that Arat isn't about to.
Nick: It's... quite unique.
Mr. Birch: Well, out-T we have some sects who don't approve of drinking at all.
Arat begins to look a bit uneasy as his glass begins to look rather full compared to the others'.
Nick smiles as the un-numbed lower part of his esophagus and his stomach begin to feel rather warm and content.
Sayward: [to Nick] I would guess in your line of work drinking isn't something you do a lot of.
Nick: No. It does make precision work rather difficult.
Arat considers that Mr. Birch has offered them quite an honor by ritualistically sharing his prized liquor. Arat is enough of a snob to understand that this is the sort of liquor a liquor snob would find delightful, even if he hates the stuff himself.
Nick's precision nager is indeed beginning to blur just a bit around the edges.
Sayward nods and smiles.
Mr. Birch: They say a Gen can't afford to lose his edge, not even for a moment.
Nick: ~~ hazy contentment ~~
Arat doesn't precisely hate the stuff, so much as deeply fear losing his self-control in any way shape or form.
Arat zlins the effect upon Nick.
Nick: Oh, it's not as bad as that.
Nick gestures expansively with the arm that isn't holding the glass.
Arat puts down his glass, as his right outer lateral takes an inadvertent dip on its way across his hand in Nick's direction.
Arat is glad he isn't holding it, as he is forced to duck the gesturing arm.
Mr. Birch: Me, I think that's self-defeating. What's the point of living . . . of achieving . . . if when you've reached that summit, you can't relax and have some fun.
Arat zlins Nick more closely. This is some powerful stuff!
Nick thinks this over for a moment, a surprisingly difficult task, for some reason.
Mr. Birch is becoming quite pleasantly mellow and expansive.
Arat really wishes Nick's nageric control wasn't being affected so badly, although the relaxation in his nager is not unpleasant in its own way.
Sayward agrees although she can't afford quite this much fun.
Nick: You know, you're right.
Arat of course is the epitome of reaching a summit and being unable to relax and have fun.
Arat studies Nick and decides it is OK that Nick is having fun, though, seeing as how it is his birthday (as Arat must keep reminding himself). As long as it doesn't get out of hand, of course.
Mr. Birch: When I work, I work hard, and when I'm done I like to play hard.
Mr. Birch: Nothing wrong with that.
Nick: Nothing at all.
Mr. Birch has forgotten what the point is that he was aiming for.
Nick tries to remember the last time he really had fun, transfer aside.
Sayward: What do you do to relax Contr... uh Arat?
Arat, who had been engrossed in studying the changes to Nick's metabolism, is caught off guard by the question.
Sayward figures it's an informal setting, so why not be informal?
Nick reflects that transfer is so much fun that it rather overshadows the other kind of fun, or at least he thinks it would, but he hasn't had the other kind of fun in quite a while, so....
Mr. Birch decides another swig is in order.
Nick is getting a bit confused, but that doesn't seem noteworthy, for some reason.
Sayward takes another sip and smiles contentedly.
Arat: I find that a quiet period to myself, perhaps with the newspapers, can be of some utility toward that end.
Arat tried that several times, about 5 years ago. He also buys himself a professional massage about once a year, although this year it did not work out so well.
Sayward: Woo! A real party boy aren't you?
Arat manages to look dignified despite the razzing. He is good at dignified.
Arat is also on his best behavior, due to it being Nick's birthday.
Nick is inclined to defend his channel from the razzing, good-natured or no.
Nick: Nothing wrong with peace and quiet.
Nick has wished for that more than once, since the blasting started.
Sayward decides that the Controller -- she can't think of him any other way after that last statement -- could use a bit of loosening up.
Sayward: I like quiet. But sometimes you need a bit of loud in your life.
Sayward: To each his own.
Nick: Yes, indeed.
Nick decides that this is close enough to being a toast, and takes another sip.
Nick notes to his surprise that his glass is half empty.
Sayward: Hey I have some newspapers in my tent. I'll bring 'um by later and you can read all you want.
Arat zlins outward, to the party (increasingly sloshed) in the outer room, to the construction site, and beyond. The ambient in here is still more pleasant, although he could have done without the personal attention.
Arat would ordinarily have fixed Sayward with a stare at that point, but in the interests of avoiding negative feelings, he pretends he did not hear her.
Mr. Birch: Now, Arat, I hear you come from the real upper crust... the crème de la crème of Sime society.
Mr. Birch wonders why all his metaphors are coming out in terms of food. That's not the best way to make points with a Sime.
Arat: My parents had some influence pre-Unity. [to Mr. Birch]
Sayward wants everyone to be as happy as she is right now.
Sayward is beginning to feel warm and fuzzy all over.
Arat prefers for people to think of him as a Tecton Controller, particularly with those maddening Audnes supporters riddling the camps.
Mr. Birch: Never met a Sime aristocrat before.
Nick wonders if Mr. Birch would be so welcoming if he knew exactly what Arat's parents were.
Mr. Birch: Of course, we have our Gen aristocrats; met plenty of them.
Nick looks at Mr. Birch with interest.
Sayward looks at the Controller. He doesn't look any different from the other channels. But he is rather stiff. Maybe that is what an Sime aristocrat acts like.
Nick: Never met a Gen Territory aristocrat.
Mr. Birch: Well, you wouldn't.
Mr. Birch: Not within a hundred miles of a Territory border.
Mr. Birch: They'd make sure of it.
Arat endures Sayward's scrutiny with Farris masochism.
Sayward thinks that would explain it. But she hasn't had much experience with aristocrats of the Gen variety either. So....
Arat has noticed that Sayward has been staring at him ever since the day he first arrived. She'd been staring at him like that even before the first day she ever spoke to him.
Mr. Birch: But I got to deal with 'em all the same.
Nick nods, just a bit ponderously.
Mr. Birch: They got the money; they run the army; they own the politicians.
Sayward decides she likes the Controller -- Arat. Now all she has to do is figure out how to fatten him up a bit. Or is that the liquor thinking?
Mr. Birch: They haven't got a clue what we're doing out here, but they pull all the strings.
Nick: Sounds like Controller Neptude, a bit.
Mr. Birch takes another deep, smooth sip of liqueur.
Arat does stare at Sayward now, as he zlins the physical evidence of what she's thinking.
Arat looks somewhat astonished, in a genteel way.
Mr. Birch: Neptude? Don't think I know the man. Oh, well, it's not your problem.
Nick recalls the mess Neptude made of Arat, by refusing to accept that Pylor was dangerous.
Nick is heartily glad that Neptude is no longer his problem; it's one of the things that makes living in mud worthwhile.
Mr. Birch: Every beast has got his burden and every dog has his day.
Mr. Birch is waxing philosophical, which is never a good sign.
Nick squints, trying to decide if that last statement was profound or just incoherent.
Sayward laughs at Marty's wit.
Sayward: Yup!
Arat casts a disturbed glance at the three much more emptied glasses.
Arat has never been able to fathom why people find it fun to loose control and make asses of themselves.
Arat finds their behavior embarrassing, even though he knows intellectually that nobody will care.
Sayward can feel her toes again as the liquor works its warming magic.
Mr. Birch has noticed that Arat's glass hasn't gone down by much if at all.
Mr. Birch: Well, like I said, some of our Gen aristocrats don't like to loosen up either.
Sayward: At least not in front of the help.
Sayward thinks that was very profound. Yeah she gets really deep when she drinks.
Arat senses their attentions on his glass and feels somewhat self conscious. He does generally try to avoid these sorts of situations.
Mr. Birch: But that's mostly 'cause they think a Gen should always to ready to fight the devil... which is Simes, if you'll forgive my mentioning an unpleasant reality that that everyone knows anyway.
Mr. Birch: I wouldn't think a Sime would have to worry about that.
Nick: Simes have other things to worry about, though.
Nick thinks: entran, chaotic ambients, entran, allergies, entran....
Mr. Birch: Oh, yeah? What kind of things?
Nick: And Arat usually prefers tea.
Nick has momentarily forgotten Arat's quest for Gen-style machismo, or at least the appearance of it.
Arat has actually not had too many problems with entran since arriving in the Land of Many People who have been Hit by Rocks And/Or Require Transfer.
Nick looks (somewhat blearily) at Mr. Birch.
Sayward: Tea? Do you like honey in it? [to Arat]
Arat: Upon occasion.
Mr. Birch pulls open the second desk drawer.
Arat means, when Jeniard uses the difference of the honey as a way to lure him into drinking some tea when he's being extremely recalcitrant.
Mr. Birch: Some in there; coffee too.
Nick looks at Arat to see if he's interested in tea.
Mr. Birch is not feeling quite coordinated enough to perform the duties of a proper host.
Arat looks as if he really wishes he weren't there.
Arat reluctantly nods his assent to Nick.
Nick has learned to distinguish the slightest sign of Aratly willingness to consume food or drink.
Nick: Tea would be very nice, thank you.
Mr. Birch: Teapot on the shelf there.
Nick sets aside his three-quarters empty glass, and gets to his feet.
Mr. Birch ascends to a standing position very carefully.
Nick walks carefully over to the shelf, wobbling only a little.
Sayward can feel the wheels of a plan begin to turn. He likes honey? Maybe this baker -- gotta find out from Marty who that is -- could make up some sticky buns with honey.
Nick reaches down the pot, noting that it isn't totally clean.
Nick frowns at the dust.
Nick: Don't drink much tea, do you?
Sayward doesn't consider how difficult honey is to come by at the Dam site. Too much liquid sunshine.
Mr. Birch: Nah, I prefer coffee, and usually cook fixes it for me at the mess hall.
Mr. Birch: But there's a little brazier over there to heat the pot with.
Nick puts the pot back on the shelf.
Sayward thinks that's okay she can get it from across the lake.
Mr. Birch makes a mental note to lay in a good supply of in-T trin if he is going to entertain Simes.
Sayward is feeling rather self satisfied at the moment.
Nick: Arat's pretty particular about his tea, you know. Maybe we'd better wait until we get back to our own place.
Mr. Birch: Sorry.
Mr. Birch: You boys got different tastes. Should have thought.
Nick hopes that refusing Birch's hospitality won't cause offense.
Sayward: Ever eat maple syrup on your pancakes, Arat?
Arat gives Sayward an even more astonished look than before. This strange woman completely ignores him for weeks at a time, and then blurts all these odd questions.
Nick: What's maple syrup?
Mr. Birch is devastated at the thought that his guests are uncomfortable.
Sayward: Comes out of the trees.
Arat considers any question about his food preferences (aside from the purely practical kind) rather offensive.
Sayward: Uh, maple trees that is.
Arat: No. [hoping that will be the end of it]
Nick: From trees?
Mr. Birch thinks that, Sime taste being what it is, Arat might very well enjoy pine sap.
Nick looks at Sayward skeptically.
Sayward: Yeah, it is as sweet as honey and has a nice bite to it.
Mr. Birch shakes his head and decides to import a text on in-Territory hospitality and entertaining.
Boar looks down at the little gathering and thinks "MMMMmm.... maple syrup!"
Arat is more into deprivation than he is into sweets, a situation most of his Donors have lamented.
Nick: It sounds very strange, to me.
Mr. Birch stares up at the head mounted over the mantlepiece. He blinks. Did it really say something or did he imagine it?
Sayward: Come to think of it I haven't had a decent set of flapjack since I got up here. Nick I gotta make you some of my special flapjack.
Nick: Flapjacks? Is that some sort of cake?
Sayward: Yeah pancakes with a difference.
Mr. Birch decides maybe he has had enough to drink for the evening... more than enough.
Sayward: What are you doin' on Sunday folks?
Arat: I will be busy. [quickly]
Sayward: Well I can't leave you out of my "Thank You" breakfast, Arat. I'll send you some by Nick.
Arat ordinarily would try for a bit more subtlety than that, but he has just flashed on an image of himself trapped in a small room with 3 hungry Gens stuffing themselves with cake and sweet tree sap.
Arat shudders.
Mr. Birch: Flapjacks! Yeah! Breakfast of champions.
Nick: Err... when Arat works, I usually do, as well.
Nick: ~~ regretful ~~
Sayward: Then I'll have to send yours over as well. Not a problem.
Arat groans inwardly. He could have used Beni, and given his allotment to the Donor.
Nick smiles.
Sayward has now firmly launched her feed the Sime program. She has equal plans for Cris.
Nick: I'd like that, if I can't make it. I admit, you've got me curious.
Nick can be 75% as charming as Riyyh, when he puts his mind to it.
Sayward has never seen so many skinny people before in her life. She actually thought that there were a lot of people starving to death before she found out that it was normal for Simes to be thinner than Gens.
Sayward: Oh I think you will be hooked once you try them. Maple syrup is addictive.
Mr. Birch: All this talk about food is making me hungry. What say we go back to the party and grab a bite before everything's gone?
Arat: Actually, I must be on my way. But thank you for the hospitality. And Nick, congratulations on your day. Jeniard has scheduled you free for the next 24 hours.
Nick perks up.
Arat is ready to flee the scene at this point, and is seizing his opportunity.
Nick: Really?
Arat nods.
Nick: ~~ gratitude ~~
Arat: Good day to you all. [to the three of them in general]
Arat makes it to the door first and bolts from the building, at the highest speed the word "dignity" could remotely be applied to.
Sayward: Bye, Arat.
Mr. Birch beams a genial (and rather hungry) farewell at Arat.
Sayward is a bit slowed by the liquor.
Sayward: Food sounds good.
Nick: Yes, indeed.
Sayward thinks she could use something to soak up the alcohol.
Mr. Birch peers out the door that Arat left open behind him. There's nothing left of the cake but crumbs.
Nick isn't sure what sort of food the out-Territory Gens think is appropriate for a birthday celebration, but is eager to find out.
Sayward gets up to look out the door as well.
Sayward sees that the cake is gone. No more cherries.
Mr. Birch snags a large bowl of popcorn and passes it to Sayward.
Nick notes that while the cake is gone, some of the other platters still have food in them.
Sayward takes the bowl gladly.
Nick grins at Sayward.
Nick: May I?
Nick holds his hand over the bowl.
Sayward thinks popcorn would make a good sponge for what she has been drinking.
Mr. Birch raids the area near the tea table where platters of biscuits and cheese remain.
Mr. Birch: Here, come try a bit of this. Wissin cheddar.
Nick helps himself to a handful of popcorn, then wanders off to see if he can get his hands on something more substantial.
Sayward decides to pick up a handful of cheese to add to the popcorn.
Sayward hasn't had any cheese in weeks. Even though it doesn't agree with her digestion she loves the stuff.
Mr. Birch is thankful they're all Gens who can appreciate the glory of good food.
Go on to Episode #43: The Money-For-Pain Business
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