The driver Fabian's dreams were restless that night; open landscapes, often grassy plains that he didn't recognise, and huge shadowy figures on the horizon that loomed but never seemed to get any closer. Mists drifted around and occasionally engulfed him, but even when he was caught in the mind-wrenching terror of not being able to see anything but whiteness, his hands invisible even ten centimetres from his face, nothing attacked him or took advantage of the terror to approach him. Sooner or later the mist faded away as though burned off by the sun, but there was never any sun in the sky. He woke up sweaty and tangled in his sheets and blankets and feeling like he'd already had a long day. He rubbed his eyes, which felt sore and gritty, showered, and then sat down with the Heart: a study of the Umber Hulk hoping that the book would make him feel a little better.
By eleven o'clock he was feeling a lot more relaxed and happy about the day and when his tablet pinged he looked at it with only a tickle of annoyance that it was interrupting his reading. It was a message from Dread suggesting that they meet for lunch. Fabian considered his book and decided that with fewer than fifty pages left he could definitely take the time for this and still finish it before Monday and messaged Dread back to accept. You choose the place, replied Dread. I've had a long week of Assessment and frankly I could do without having to make any more decisions.
The Lutz Bar and Grill was not far outside the centre of the city and the streets around it were bustling with pedestrians and crowded with traffic, including a large number of electric scooters which were having a revival for no reason Fabian could understand. There were street-food vendors at the end of the street and as he walked past the conflicting smells of fresh herbs, fried meat and boiled grains made his nose twitch and his stomach grumble. The Lutz Bar and Grill was a rooftop affair; a lift took him fifteen floors up and he walked through a quiet, dark dining room used more when it was cold or wet and out onto a broad, marble-flagged terrace set with cast-iron tables and chairs and decked with the red and gold colours that themed the bar. There was a strong smell of smoke and even a blue-grey haze near the doors that, just for a moment, reminded Fabian of his dreams from the night before, and then he was out into the noon-day sunshine -- just warm enough to not need his jacket -- and saw Dread sitting at a table with a tall glass of beer in front of him. Condensation had formed on the outside of the glass and the liquid level was only just below the rim, so Fabian guessed that Dread had only arrived a few minutes earlier.
"You're on time," said Dread as Fabian sat down. "Well done." Fabian started to speak but was interrupted by an enthusiastic waiter. He glanced at Dread's drink and said, "Same again," and then was interrupted once more by the waiter presenting him with a laminated menu large enough to swat a small child with. "I try," said Fabian when the waiter had finally left. "I would get here early but it would only annoy you if you weren't first." "Hah," said Dread, picking his drink up and swallowing a good quarter of it. "I'd like to see you try." He started to set his glass down, then clearly thought better of it and kept hold of it. "I've spent all week answering stupid questions from the Assessors, who couldn't tell one end of a ship from the other even after I explained it to them. Twice. One of them asked me, repeatedly, where the driver stood! The driver! Tell me your experience was as bad, please." He drank again, taking the glass to half-full effortlessly. "Do you mean apart from an artefact going missing while they were there and them not mentioning it? Well yes, they were every bit as difficult as you say; they wanted to open boxes and look at things and then complain that they didn't match the description. They seemed to have no concept that organic things change over time, even under stasis spells -- and when I pointed out how much such a spell costs..." The two men exchanged Assessor war stories comfortably for twenty minutes until their glasses were empty and the waiter was hovering aggressively, wanting them to order. The drinks were refilled while they looked over the menu and selected a platter of carne misti with sides, and then, as they waited for the food, they both seemed to relax just a little.
Greg - I see you've expertly avoided my attempts to learn more about Fabian's driver. For the best, probably, seeing as this was much more interesting and more pertinent to the overall story.
I look forward to seeing what comes from this lunch date, now that the niceties appear to be out of the way.
3 comments:
The driver
Fabian's dreams were restless that night; open landscapes, often grassy plains that he didn't recognise, and huge shadowy figures on the horizon that loomed but never seemed to get any closer. Mists drifted around and occasionally engulfed him, but even when he was caught in the mind-wrenching terror of not being able to see anything but whiteness, his hands invisible even ten centimetres from his face, nothing attacked him or took advantage of the terror to approach him. Sooner or later the mist faded away as though burned off by the sun, but there was never any sun in the sky. He woke up sweaty and tangled in his sheets and blankets and feeling like he'd already had a long day. He rubbed his eyes, which felt sore and gritty, showered, and then sat down with the Heart: a study of the Umber Hulk hoping that the book would make him feel a little better.
By eleven o'clock he was feeling a lot more relaxed and happy about the day and when his tablet pinged he looked at it with only a tickle of annoyance that it was interrupting his reading. It was a message from Dread suggesting that they meet for lunch. Fabian considered his book and decided that with fewer than fifty pages left he could definitely take the time for this and still finish it before Monday and messaged Dread back to accept.
You choose the place, replied Dread. I've had a long week of Assessment and frankly I could do without having to make any more decisions.
The Lutz Bar and Grill was not far outside the centre of the city and the streets around it were bustling with pedestrians and crowded with traffic, including a large number of electric scooters which were having a revival for no reason Fabian could understand. There were street-food vendors at the end of the street and as he walked past the conflicting smells of fresh herbs, fried meat and boiled grains made his nose twitch and his stomach grumble. The Lutz Bar and Grill was a rooftop affair; a lift took him fifteen floors up and he walked through a quiet, dark dining room used more when it was cold or wet and out onto a broad, marble-flagged terrace set with cast-iron tables and chairs and decked with the red and gold colours that themed the bar. There was a strong smell of smoke and even a blue-grey haze near the doors that, just for a moment, reminded Fabian of his dreams from the night before, and then he was out into the noon-day sunshine -- just warm enough to not need his jacket -- and saw Dread sitting at a table with a tall glass of beer in front of him. Condensation had formed on the outside of the glass and the liquid level was only just below the rim, so Fabian guessed that Dread had only arrived a few minutes earlier.
"You're on time," said Dread as Fabian sat down. "Well done."
Fabian started to speak but was interrupted by an enthusiastic waiter. He glanced at Dread's drink and said, "Same again," and then was interrupted once more by the waiter presenting him with a laminated menu large enough to swat a small child with.
"I try," said Fabian when the waiter had finally left. "I would get here early but it would only annoy you if you weren't first."
"Hah," said Dread, picking his drink up and swallowing a good quarter of it. "I'd like to see you try." He started to set his glass down, then clearly thought better of it and kept hold of it. "I've spent all week answering stupid questions from the Assessors, who couldn't tell one end of a ship from the other even after I explained it to them. Twice. One of them asked me, repeatedly, where the driver stood! The driver! Tell me your experience was as bad, please." He drank again, taking the glass to half-full effortlessly.
"Do you mean apart from an artefact going missing while they were there and them not mentioning it? Well yes, they were every bit as difficult as you say; they wanted to open boxes and look at things and then complain that they didn't match the description. They seemed to have no concept that organic things change over time, even under stasis spells -- and when I pointed out how much such a spell costs..."
The two men exchanged Assessor war stories comfortably for twenty minutes until their glasses were empty and the waiter was hovering aggressively, wanting them to order. The drinks were refilled while they looked over the menu and selected a platter of carne misti with sides, and then, as they waited for the food, they both seemed to relax just a little.
Greg - I see you've expertly avoided my attempts to learn more about Fabian's driver. For the best, probably, seeing as this was much more interesting and more pertinent to the overall story.
I look forward to seeing what comes from this lunch date, now that the niceties appear to be out of the way.
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