I haven't forgotten about the year-long poem, but I'm still thinking about what I want to do next there. Expect an update soon though :) And... I'm glad you liked the gnomes the day before ;-)
Right, I think this is two posts as well, so my usual apologies for that. I'm sure it'll settle down back to one once I've got the characters introduced.
The Maestro The Maestro usually arrived at the New Imperial Museum a little after 9:30, dropped off by a woman he claimed was his mother, and made his way to his desk via the kitchen for a cup of coffee so bitter it could have had three divorces and a fourth underway and the reading room to filch the Republic whose crossword he liked doing. His day then started gently by filling in the crossword grid steadily and drinking his coffee at a similar rate until both were finished and he felt up to starting the day of studying the artefacts and specimens in the Museum and adding to the consolidated knowledge of mankind. He was, therefore, a little upset to find Fabian standing in the kitchen holding the Maestro's favourite coffee cup and smiling a little smile. "Director," he said, the lack of refreshing and reviving coffee evident in his tone. Small animals would have fled at the sound of that single word. "That's my cup." "Yes," said Fabian, handing it over as though he'd always intended to. "A cup. Yes, a cup. Not a hostage. Definitely not that." "What?" The Maestro didn't quite shout, but his volume increased notably. "Behave yourself, child!" The Maestro was probably in his late nineties but certain details, like his age, were missing from his HR-file and that made talking about retirement difficult. He was also very productive, turning out almost as much research and discoveries on the Museum's collection in a year as two of his more junior colleagues so Fabian had long ago decided that age was not something he was going to address with the Maestro. But child rankled. "I've got an adult daughter and a divorce," said Fabian, glaring at the Maestro. "Less of the child, please!" "A divorce?" Fabian pressed his lips firmly together to stop himself from sighing. The divorce wasn't common knowledge at the NIM. "Never mind that," he said. "Can I get you some coffee?"
"I'll make my own, thank-you." The Maestro elbowed Fabian until he moved, despite that he wasn't actually standing near the coffee-maker -- an ancient drip-coffee device that the cleaning staff ensured was always brewing something and which Fabian had half expected the Assessors to ask about -- and poured out a stream of liquid so dark and thick it could have been chocolate. "Why are you in here? Is this about the wretched paper again?" "No," said Fabian, though they'd had several chats about not filling in the crossword before anyone else could attempt it. "No, I want to know if you remember specimen 0788AD-012." The Maestro set his cup down on the white formica counter, next to the coffee-maker, and held his hands out in front of him. Fabian squinted slightly, puzzled by this. "Not shaking," said the Maestro, sounding faintly proud. "See? No shakes. Not even when you mention that." "Should they be?" Fabian held his own hands out. "These aren't shaking either." "They should be. I brought that specimen in fif-- some years ago. I forget how many and I'm sure there's no need to go and look it up." There was a firmness to the Maestro's tone that suggested looking it up would be painful. "Yes," said Fabian. "That's why I'm asking you if you remember it." "Don't get cheeky! It's the heart of an Umber Hulk. Took nearly three months to track the Hulk in the first place, and trapping it proved impossible. It took six of us to bring the beast down in the end. Nasty job, glad I won't have to do that again in a hurry." "I wouldn't have thought you could manage it now," said Fabian, and his face reddened as his ears heard what his mouth had said. His brain scrambled for an apology, but for some reason the Maestro grinned. It wasn't a nice grin, but it was a grin. "You might be surprised," he said. "But I don't want to try, so let's say you're right. What's wrong with the damn thing then? Did the Assessors not like it?" "I think they stole it," said Fabian, and again shuddered as he realised he'd spoken without thinking. The Maestro picked his cup up. "I really hope not," he said. "Umber Hulks are as rare as hen's teeth these days. That's going to cost a pretty penny, and not just financially."
3 comments:
I haven't forgotten about the year-long poem, but I'm still thinking about what I want to do next there. Expect an update soon though :)
And... I'm glad you liked the gnomes the day before ;-)
Right, I think this is two posts as well, so my usual apologies for that. I'm sure it'll settle down back to one once I've got the characters introduced.
The Maestro
The Maestro usually arrived at the New Imperial Museum a little after 9:30, dropped off by a woman he claimed was his mother, and made his way to his desk via the kitchen for a cup of coffee so bitter it could have had three divorces and a fourth underway and the reading room to filch the Republic whose crossword he liked doing. His day then started gently by filling in the crossword grid steadily and drinking his coffee at a similar rate until both were finished and he felt up to starting the day of studying the artefacts and specimens in the Museum and adding to the consolidated knowledge of mankind. He was, therefore, a little upset to find Fabian standing in the kitchen holding the Maestro's favourite coffee cup and smiling a little smile.
"Director," he said, the lack of refreshing and reviving coffee evident in his tone. Small animals would have fled at the sound of that single word. "That's my cup."
"Yes," said Fabian, handing it over as though he'd always intended to. "A cup. Yes, a cup. Not a hostage. Definitely not that."
"What?" The Maestro didn't quite shout, but his volume increased notably. "Behave yourself, child!"
The Maestro was probably in his late nineties but certain details, like his age, were missing from his HR-file and that made talking about retirement difficult. He was also very productive, turning out almost as much research and discoveries on the Museum's collection in a year as two of his more junior colleagues so Fabian had long ago decided that age was not something he was going to address with the Maestro. But child rankled.
"I've got an adult daughter and a divorce," said Fabian, glaring at the Maestro. "Less of the child, please!"
"A divorce?"
Fabian pressed his lips firmly together to stop himself from sighing. The divorce wasn't common knowledge at the NIM.
"Never mind that," he said. "Can I get you some coffee?"
"I'll make my own, thank-you." The Maestro elbowed Fabian until he moved, despite that he wasn't actually standing near the coffee-maker -- an ancient drip-coffee device that the cleaning staff ensured was always brewing something and which Fabian had half expected the Assessors to ask about -- and poured out a stream of liquid so dark and thick it could have been chocolate.
"Why are you in here? Is this about the wretched paper again?"
"No," said Fabian, though they'd had several chats about not filling in the crossword before anyone else could attempt it. "No, I want to know if you remember specimen 0788AD-012."
The Maestro set his cup down on the white formica counter, next to the coffee-maker, and held his hands out in front of him. Fabian squinted slightly, puzzled by this.
"Not shaking," said the Maestro, sounding faintly proud. "See? No shakes. Not even when you mention that."
"Should they be?" Fabian held his own hands out. "These aren't shaking either."
"They should be. I brought that specimen in fif-- some years ago. I forget how many and I'm sure there's no need to go and look it up." There was a firmness to the Maestro's tone that suggested looking it up would be painful.
"Yes," said Fabian. "That's why I'm asking you if you remember it."
"Don't get cheeky! It's the heart of an Umber Hulk. Took nearly three months to track the Hulk in the first place, and trapping it proved impossible. It took six of us to bring the beast down in the end. Nasty job, glad I won't have to do that again in a hurry."
"I wouldn't have thought you could manage it now," said Fabian, and his face reddened as his ears heard what his mouth had said. His brain scrambled for an apology, but for some reason the Maestro grinned. It wasn't a nice grin, but it was a grin.
"You might be surprised," he said. "But I don't want to try, so let's say you're right. What's wrong with the damn thing then? Did the Assessors not like it?"
"I think they stole it," said Fabian, and again shuddered as he realised he'd spoken without thinking.
The Maestro picked his cup up. "I really hope not," he said. "Umber Hulks are as rare as hen's teeth these days. That's going to cost a pretty penny, and not just financially."
Greg - and this is my usual insistence that you don't need to apologize for writing so much that you need to post twice :P
I like the Maestro and his unknown age and his seemingly vast knowledge. He does seem rather more capable than one might expect him to be...
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