Sime~Gen Roleplaying on IRC: Snake River Dam Scenario
Episode #114: Moola (2/1/01)
Racknie corners Riyyh just as he is about to enter the little cafe in the bath house.
Racknie: Sectuib!
Riyyh nearly jumps out of his skin as Racknie pops up behind him.
Riyyh: Racknie, er... what a surprise. [grins weakly; Racknie has been surprising him like that all week]
Racknie: Sectuib, how could you turn down my requisition?
Racknie waves a crumpled piece of paper.
Riyyh: Oh, er....
Riyyh has no idea what precisely Racknie is talking about, so it's difficult to say.
Racknie: An orchestra would raise the spirits of the Gens in the camp so much--even the ones who weren't actually playing in it.
Riyyh: But Racknie, we have a difficult enough time keeping individual musicians twenty-four hours a day.
Racknie: And it's only a few instruments--surely the expense is justified.
Riyyh sighs.
Racknie's preference for instrumental music over, say, a much less expensive choir would be readily apparent to anyone who had been forced to hear him sing.
Kella enters the bathhouse, looking for the Sectuib. Someone had told her they'd seen Racknie chase the man into here a few minutes ago..
Kella is obliged to be the camp children's teacher, since she had not been paying attention when another Narosian volunteered her for the job. But she's determined to do her best.
Kella: [sings out] Sectuib Riyyh?!
Kella is a nice person, and is not related to Riyyh by blood, marriage, or otherwise. The reason for that is that she joined Naros years ago, shortly after the border wars ended.
Kella is a kindergarten teacher, but she's in the camp at present because she wanted a vacation. This is not exactly what she wanted. Kella does have one annoying trait. Because she works with little kids, her voice tends to take on a sing-songy quality to it, and it can get onto one's nerves after a while.
Riyyh, who is way, way too nice to cringe when that sing-songy voice calls out his name, turns to Kella with a perfectly executed smile of welcome.
Riyyh: Why hello, Kella. A beautiful morning, don't you think?
Kella: Oh, Sectuib! I've been looking for you. [she waves a piece of paper] I tell you, I need a blackboard! Something to write on! [she stops and looks at him] Do you know just how many kids are running around?
Riyyh: Not that many, considering. [reassuringly]
Riyyh thinks it could be worse... and it probably will be about 9 months after the bulk of the people arrived at the Dam site.
Riyyh resigns himself to another tug of war about money.
Riyyh: You were saying? A blackboard?
Kella: Yes, a blackboard. You see, [sighs, wondering why she ever agreed to come] there's not just little terrors out there. There's also middle-sized terrors like 6 to 12, and surly teenagers. And most of them don't know how to read and write!
Kella: I know money is tight, but this is so important. I have books, enough to last the winter, enough supplies for the the little ones, and the large ones, if it comes to that. But I need the blackboard.
Riyyh imagines a full size classroom blackboard being brought up a steep, blustering mountain pass in midwinter in deep snow by... muleback? Sledge?
Riyyh's mind boggles.
Riyyh: Oh, dear.
Riyyh tries to look encouraging and accommodating while really looking rather apologetic instead.
Kella thinks that it's a strong possibility that the adults will also ask for lessons. So the blackboard is important.
Riyyh: Surely there is some alternative? A dark colored cloth, perhaps, that could be washed each night?
Kella: I know what you're talking about. And sure, if you'll wash it. Just remember, it'll either get moldy or worn through. [Kella blows out a breath.] Just give me the money and I'll bring it back. I think I'll ask those Gen Army to help me..
Kella wishes she had brought the blackboard from Naros, but then remembers she was supposed to be on vacation.
Riyyh: Of course we'll wash it, Kella. Why, we have these laundry facilities and so forth, and even the drying rooms.
Riyyh: And do be reasonable, [cajolingly] the roads are completely impassable. Why, even if you managed to make it out, it'd be spring before you were back.
Kella: [sighs] So I'm not getting the blackboard? All right. The blacker the better--I already have the chalk. But I'm not washing the cloth. Is that satisfactory?
Riyyh: Of course. [soothingly]
Riyyh holds her hand and pats it with his other.
Kella: [pats Riyyh's hands right back] We can't all have what we want. I did so want that blackboard, but that cloth will do. [sighs again] And you'll have to find people to wash it.
Riyyh looks quite bewildered, but keeps patting her hand.
Riyyh: But of course.
Riyyh is certain that nobody will mind if it gets slipped into the system between the paid laundry, just like everything else of the Narosians'.
Riyyh: And now, how is the set up of the classes going, aside from that? [kindly]
Kella: Ah, well. Fortunately, the schoolhouse is constructed very well. And Racknie wasn't in charge. I have about 5 under the age of 5, 10 who are between 5 and 10, and 7 between 10 and 16. Sectuib, I'd appreciate it if you found someone to have a changeover class.
Riyyh nods, listening.
Kella: I plan to have two shifts---the little ones in the morning, and the middle and upper grades in the afternoon. The older ones will get the curriculum that Narosian kids currently get.
Kella: I'm wondering, Sectuib--do we need to get permission from parents before we have changeover classes?
Riyyh considers.
Riyyh: Well, I think it would be for the best if we did only train those children whose parents agreed.
Kella is busily considering everything that need to be done, now that the question of the blackboard has been settled.
Riyyh: And of course, changeover classes should not be limited to children; the adults must be educated as to what to watch for.
Riyyh: Most of them have literally no understanding of what is involved.
Kella: And that's something else I need to discuss with you. Adult classes. Sectuib, some of those classes that the others have suggested... I am not experienced in teaching.
Kella: [considers] Would Controller Arat lend us some of his channels and donors to teach a changeover class?
Riyyh: Why, I am certain we are more than capable of doing that ourselves.
Riyyh really doesn't want to ask favors of Arat if he doesn't have to.
Riyyh in fact would go to a considerable bit of trouble to avoid doing so even if it looked like he did have to.
Racknie has been shifting from foot to foot during this discussion, caught between wanting to pursue the orchestra matter and the Narosian urge to know everything about everyone.
Kella: All right, Sectuib, if you feel it unnecessary. You'll have to give me the names of channels and the times they are free so I can schedule them. Parents should have several options of days.
Riyyh is glad Kella didn't take it into her head to go ask Arat herself. She sometimes takes the bit into her teeth and gallops headlong on the most unlikely courses, as witness her threat to go fetch a blackboard in person.
Riyyh sighs.
Riyyh: My dear Kella, such formality. Surely with so small a number as we have brought, you could be persuaded to make arrangements with your fellow House members yourself?
Kella thinks, and the time to write letters asking permission and distribute them. She has a sneaking feeling she'll see a lot of X's, which mean personal visits.
Kella: I could. But it would sound much more appealing coming from you. After all, aren't you a channel... and aren't you going to teach a class?
Riyyh looks somewhat pained as she hits him where it hurts... the classroom avoidance guilt.
Riyyh: You know how I feel about classrooms, Kella.
Racknie certainly does, if Kella doesn't.
Kella: [finally stops using Riyyh's title] Riyyh, you know what they say about horses. When one tosses you, you get back on. If you want, you can have it somewhere else?
Kella is hoping Riyyh will teach a class. That would give her more time to do things that need to be done. Like personal visits.
Riyyh seems to recall jumping off of the classroom horse at around age 12 and refusing to let it weasel its way back under him, but that is beside the point.
Riyyh: Oh, very well. I can teach a class on something or other, just give me whichever one you can't find any volunteer for. How is that?
Riyyh smiles, hoping that will appease Kella.
Kella: Oh, that's wonderful! A changeover class would just be perfect for you, wouldn't it? You already know all the information. [Kella smiles]
Kella: And you're so good with kids.
Racknie wonders how the Gens would react if Riyyh was openly teaching them about his specialty: disjunction.
Racknie suspects, from rumors he's heard about a certain Gen being held in IDAS custody, that at least some of them might not see the point of disjunction, when extermination is faster and easier.
Racknie is, however, a Narosian born and bred, and quickly puts the unpleasant thought out of his mind, in favor of thing he can do something about: an orchestra, for instance.
Kella: Racknie, was there something you wanted to talk to Riyyh about?
Racknie: I was hoping that I could get him to reconsider denying my request for sufficient instruments for a small orchestra.
Kella is exhausted. After inspecting the schoolhouse, and getting guarantees that Racknie did not touch an inch of it, she'd gone on a Dam-wide census, finding children. She hasn't found Thergude yet.
Racknie: It would be such a delightful treat for those poor Gens, sitting in that camp all day.
Riyyh: But Racknie, there are so many perfectly delightful musical instruments that can be made cheaply from materials at hand.
Kella stares at Racknie, skeptically.
Riyyh: We can't afford to order fancy instruments from New Washington, surely you can see that?
Riyyh still lives with some illusions about Racknie's common sense.
Riyyh: And there is at least one musical instrument dealer who operates here - perhaps a trade could be worked out.
Riyyh: It just isn't sensible to order from afar, particularly in midwinter.
Kella: Riyyh is correct. For example, a recorder can be made from wood. Drums are easy. [Kella knows all this from doing music education with the kids. Noting, of course, that Kella can't play worth manure.]
Racknie: But the local instrument maker doesn't carry any of those large xylophones!
Racknie is quite proud of his ability to play the average of three to five xylophone notes in the average symphony.
Riyyh is quite certain that Kella and Racknie together could drive him quite insane in short order.
Riyyh hadn't, of course, intended to be stuck here over the winter.
Riyyh: Oh, dear. [to himself]
Kella: Simple. Get metal from the "Point it out, we'll blow it up" people. A stick can be used to beat out a rhythm.
Kella sounds like she's back in the classroom. And she's also dozing off.
Racknie's inability to play more than said three to five notes per symphony accurately might account for the fact that he was taught the xylophone, and not, say, the violin.
Racknie looks at Kella, astonished at her lack of orchestral knowledge.
Racknie would be even more astounded if he knew she didn't know the subtleties of breeding artichokes; he tends to forget that not everyone is an expert in all of his passions.
Racknie: But a xylophone must be properly tuned! And you can't just use any old stick as a mallet. It wouldn't sound right.
Riyyh quietly makes his escape into the cafe.
Kella: Racknie, you know what? Anything can be used to make music. Including glass. Be creative. [Kella is a little annoyed. Racknie is asking for an orchestra, whereas she wanted a blackboard.]
Racknie looks at Kella in bewilderment.
Racknie: But that's just noise, not music.
Racknie: You need a proper instrument to get good-sounding music.
Racknie frequently fails to get good-sounding music out of high quality instruments, but that's neither here nor there.
Kella: Racknie. I need teachers for classes I'm settling up. I think you would do very well for one of them. Tell me... what interests do you have?
Racknie smiles.
Racknie: Artichokes.
Kella: Perfect! Do you want to teach growing or cooking aspect of artichokes?
Racknie: I could teach all about breeding them--how to make crosses, and evaluate the seedlings.
Kella is determined to get all Narosians, if possible, involved.
Racknie has not been allowed into the kitchens at Naros for some years, since he... but I digress.
Kella: Oh. I do need to teach science to the older ones. Tell me, Racknie, do teenagers frighten you?
Racknie: No. Should they?
Kella thinks, Perfect.
Kella: Wonderful! Then it's settled? You'll teach the science of artichokes?
Racknie: We'll go to Sectuib right now and order some greenhouses.
Racknie: ~~ enthusiasm ~~
Racknie: They'll have to be heated, in this climate. I'm sure Turros would send some plants.
Kella: Oh, no. It's winter, and I don't think greenhouses would stand up well against the cold. I do need you to teach about crossing, without greenhouses.
Racknie: Do you think the students would like to learn about hydroponics?
Kella: I think so. But remember, we're on a limited budget. [way limited] So it'll have to be lectures, and whatever you can cobble together.
Racknie: But I can't teach them how to breed artichokes, without any artichokes. Surely you see that.
Kella: I see. But can't you use pictures? You know, teach them the techniques now, then when the spring thaw comes, they can try it out for themselves.
Racknie: Pictures? But I can't draw at all.
Kella: I'll find someone who can. [Kella's mouth is pursed in determination.] Part of being a teacher, Racknie, is being creative. You do have books on artichokes, don't you? Use them.
Racknie: My books on artichokes are back at Naros, so that Turros can keep the breeding program going while I'm away.
Racknie: I couldn't let my artichokes be neglected.
Kella realizes that instead of supervising herself, she's going to have to supervise a lot of teachers, like Racknie. But the job will get done. She's resolved on that.
Kella: No, of course. Certainly not! [Kella shakes her head. She understands passion for what you love.] Racknie, just tell the teenagers what you know. I'll help you.
Racknie: Well, it's true that they ought to know something about artichokes.
Racknie is convinced that everyone ought to share his passion for them.
Kella: You'll enjoy it. And they will, too. I'm sure by the end of the class, they'll like artichokes as much as you do.
Racknie: Do you really think so?
Racknie is starting to get enthusiastic about the project.
Kella: Oh yes. [Kella likes artichokes, but to eat. She'd be interested in listening in, occasionally.]
Kella: After all, artichokes are your area of expertise. And it's food, so they should know how to raise it if necessary.
Racknie's enthusiasms have led to quite a few disasters, including (but not even close to limited to) the early morning steam whistle disaster and the theft of most of the house plants in Salmonton.
Kella hopes with enough supervision Racknie won't do much damage. She does need teachers. And maybe the teenagers will behave themselves. She doesn't have much hope, through.
Kella: And you can use the mule as an example of why you don't cross species unless you want something that's sterile.
Racknie: A mule! Of course! Don't the Gen soldiers have a mule?
Kella: I... yes, they do. You could ask them if you can borrow the mule. Or ask them to come along and give a lecture on the... mule.
Kella is gradually remembering the rumors about the mule from hell. Borgmann's IDAS shack had gotten destroyed, it had caused several injuries, but she hopes the courier can control it. At least Racknie had something to lecture on.
Arat paces back and forth in a steep and craggy canyon.
Arat slips and stumbles on the snow and ice, despite Sime grace; conditions are miserable and he has been waiting for nearly 20 minutes for the representative of the Audnes supporters to arrive.
Arat would not have stood for even 5 minutes of lateness if he wasn't so desperate to speak to them.
Arat has to find out what they have been doing with all of the money he has been slipping to them; yet another request arrived this morning, this time for more money than all the other requests put together.
Arat passes underneath some heavy tree growth, evidence enough of how far he had to come to find a safe meeting place.
Arat winces as a new gust of dangerously cold wind causes a rain of ice to clatter down all around him. A freezing rain the previous day had left the trees coated in millions of jagged icicles.
Dramming arrives rather faster than he had intended, arms windmilling to maintain his balance.
Dramming appears somewhat the worse for wear, with wet patches and mud on his clothing.
Arat tucks his arms more firmly into his cloak and turns to face Dramming with the sort of expression possible only when the wearer feels deeply and personally wronged, and is trying to be as arrogant as possible despite having been freezing his patuckus off for twenty minutes (not counting transportation time).
Dramming: My apologies for being late, Tuib Audnes. I slipped coming over the ledge, and it took a while to get back to the path.
Dramming is genuinely ~~ sorry ~~, over and above being genuinely a sorry individual.
Arat is genuinely cold, being completely unaccustomed to being out in severe windchill weather for any length of time augmentation or no, and his temper is genuinely frayed as well.
Arat: What is the meaning of this escalation in your request for funds? [snaps, sounding a bit more peevish than intended]
Dramming ~~ quails ~~ before the Audnes displeasure.
Dramming: You wanted us to become self-supporting. How can we take advantage of the many opportunities to do so, without working capital?
Dramming is rather allergic to work, but capital can be used for other things.
Dramming is rather partial to certain establishments specializing in probability, himself.
Arat wraps his arms more firmly under his armpits and utterly fails to look dignified. For one thing, his Farris nose is red on the end, and for another, he is beside himself with anxiety about what will happen if anybody finds out where the money is going.
Arat: What do you want to do with the money?
Dramming: The profits to be made just now in selling common household objects is tremendous.
Dramming: We were hoping to bribe a fishing boat to bring us some basic supplies. Not all the unemployed Gens are in the IDAS camp, you know.
Dramming has high hopes of making a killing--figuratively speaking, of course--off a certain group of Gen soldiers.
Arat: I was told the ice has closed the reservoir to small craft as far as Salmonton.
Arat was told this by the captain of the Consolidated Trans-Territory Shipping Company barge that broke its way through to drop off the massive Gen Internment Camp shipment, and just in the nick of time too as people were starting to wonder if the supplies would arrive too late.
Dramming: This storm will pass. The important thing is to be ready to outbid the other interested parties when the next thaw lets them through.
Arat: Have you secured a seller on the other end?
Arat thinks Dramming is being overly optimistic about the transportation. But then he doesn't tend to give Dramming a whole lot of credit.
Dramming: I have spoken with several. They may be Wild Gens, but they can see the profit to such ventures.
Dramming: With food and other necessities so costly, I gather that transporting supplies is now more profitable than catching fish.
Arat: You have not promised to pay them in advance have you?
Dramming has always liked get rich quick schemes.
Arat: The supplies are waiting in dock now?
Dramming's enthusiasm dims just a bit at the question.
Dramming: Well, I did put up a little towards a shipment or two. Nothing that won't be regained twentyfold.
Dramming: My contacts didn't seem to think that finding goods would be a problem.
Arat tries not to shiver as he tries to think through all the possible ways Dramming could have screwed up.
Arat unfortunately tends to shudder at the thought of insanely risky financial ventures even under the best of weather conditions.
Arat: Has anything arrived?
Dramming: Only one partial shipment--I got outbid several times. That is why I requested the additional funds.
Dramming: But I sold those ten sacks of flour for five times what they cost me.
Arat: But you received fewer than you paid for.
Dramming: Well, yes, but with the profit margin so great, I still came out ahead.
Arat attempts to understand what Dramming has done.
Arat: Do you have these contracts on paper? Are you certain of the other parties' identities?
Dramming: There were gentlemen's agreements. What gentleman would go back on his word?
Dramming thinks that Arat can't have been involved in very many semi-clandestine endeavors, if he thinks that written contracts are involved.
Arat: You used the funds I gave you for food and shelter, [says dangerously] and spent them on transportation for goods which were for the most part auctioned to someone else?
Dramming is starting to realize that this interview is not going quite the way he'd hoped.
Arat: For which transportation you were not directly reimbursed?
Arat: And now you wish me to provide you more funding in order to fulfill obligations to your customers by outbidding others for that for which you have already paid once?
Dramming tries to find a more helpful answer than, "Yes".
Dramming: Well....
Dramming: I wasn't outbid by much, and the goods were selling for a great deal more.
Dramming: You'd get your money back quite quickly.
Arat's eyes narrow.
Arat: I refuse to be corrupted by this... circle of greed and deceit.
Dramming is struck by the resemblance between Arat and the pictures of his grandfather, in the heyday of the Audnes dynasty.
Arat: It is destructive and demeaning.
Arat: Do you realize, I am in the midst of an investigation as to why it is none of the Gens we collect selyn from can afford to feed themselves, and why renSimes cannot afford both clothing and their taxes.
Arat: That you would be involved in this is appalling.
Dramming: With simple necessities in short supply, somebody will get rich supplying them. Why not me--us, I mean?
Dramming has been raised on tales of the junct Sime aristocracy, pre-Unity, but of course has not personally experienced wealth, much as he would like to.
Dramming: ~~ defensive ~~
Arat's nostrils flare.
Arat: You told me you required my help for basic housing, food, clothing and taxes. You leveraged my blood obligation to the people of New Othwol.
Arat: ~~cold fury~~
Dramming ~~ quails ~~ at the zlin of an Audnes in full fury.
Dramming: We were trying to become self-supporting, so as not to be a permanent burden on you.
Arat: ...and then you take what I have given you and use it to degrade and abase the lives of the very people I am sworn to care for by oath.
Dramming doesn't see it quite that way--after all, none of the people his group has been scalping is from New Othwol.
Arat: Do you think it was easy for me to remove that kind of money from my personal finances without drawing unwanted attention?
Arat: There are agents here on the dam site eager to connect me to you.
Dramming has never had enough finances that anybody bothered to track them, or at least, nobody but certain landlords and innkeepers with a taste for getting their rent on time.
Dramming: I would never use your name for our business--you can rest assured that no one will learn where the money came from.
Dramming is shocked that Arat would think that his supporters would betray him so.
Arat: Good. And there will be no more help from me. Not help of that kind.
Dramming: But....those Gens will be expecting payment, when they bring my shipment.
Arat: Then I suggest you allow yourself to be outbid.
Dramming blanches at the thought of losing the expected profit, and what certain gentlemen who specialize in probability will do if he doesn't have it when they demand an accounting.
Dramming: That will leave us with nothing!
Arat: You should have thought of that when you made the decision to betray my trust and take what I gave you to secure food and shelter and throw it away.
Dramming automatically reaches out a hand to pluck at Arat's sleeve, then hastily thinks better of and withdraws before actually touching it.
Arat's nager is ~~angry~~ although a certain amount of ~~helpless frustration~~ is leaking out. And plainly visible on his face.
Arat: Does not a one of you hold a job any longer?
Dramming: Well... Squll is washing dishes at the Crooked Barrel.
Dramming does not feel compelled to mention that this was the bartender's method of extracting payment for goods consumed.
Arat is glad to know at least one of them is regularly coming into contact with hot water and soap.
Arat: And what of your position with SWAT?
Arat has a feeling he's not going to like the answer to that.
Dramming: What with it being winter and all, they decided that they didn't require anyone to do chores around their area.
Arat is conscious of burning up vast quantities of precious, renSime-life-saving selyn in order to have the numbness not travel up past his knees while he stands here and listens to this idiot make excuses. He wishes he had the strength of will to simply abandon the last of his parents' radical supporters and forget their existence.
Dramming: They said with the price of supplies, they couldn't afford as many employees.
Dramming actually got the idea for his retail scheme from this, on the grounds that it is better to be a screwer than a screwee, when screwing is being done.
Arat turns away from Dramming, partially to think for a moment and partially to have the wind at his back for a moment and partially just so he doesn't have to look at what he can't avoid zlinning: Dramming.
Arat retucks his hands under his arms and frowns furiously at a spindly, bent over pine sapling for a moment before he makes his decision.
Arat: Very well.
Arat: You say you cannot support yourself without my help, and I believe you.
Arat: However, you clearly cannot be trusted to use it as intended without severe regulation.
Arat: Nor can I provide such regulation personally as it would be detrimental to the safety of my career.
Arat: Therefore I shall arrange for the transfer of a portion of my fortune into a charitable trust, to be paid out by a suitable governing body to persons requiring assistance in the Dam area.
Dramming: A charitable trust?
Arat: It will, of course, be up to you whether you apply and whether you are chosen to receive.
Dramming: ...chosen?
Dramming gulps.
Dramming is apprehensive that given a choice, very few people would consider him a good risk.
Dramming is well aware that rather few trustees could be depended upon to feel a familial obligation to support the previous aristocracy of New Othwol.
Arat turns to face Dramming again, regarding him with a slit-eyed, disappointed look.
Arat: Good day.
Arat turns and strides away, slipping occasionally on the piles of loose ice, with nothing more in his mind than getting back to "civilization", warmth, and away from Dramming and all he stands for.
Go on to Episode #115: Eve in Camouflage
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