Blackjack Gabbiani
Clearly we're great!
Last chapter was a bit of a cliffhanger wasn't it? Hopefully this will answer some things. My wonderful friend Leianne helped considerably with this chapter so I want you all to give her a round of applause. On with the fic!
The night had refreshed us, and we were awakened by the morning call of a Dodrio from a distant farm. Veronica yawned and stretched her arms out to brush against the wall. She seemed untroubled, and that she had slept through the night relaxed me as well.
"Pleasant dreams?" I asked, standing from the bed and drawing the thin curtain open. No doubt my hair was a mess, but hers was its typical fluff. Perhaps I ought to invest in a nightcap myself, I mused.
"I don't really remember. But it's better than bad dreams." She smoothed out her side of the bed despite servants to do so. "It's funny. Even that sudden moment when the memories of the day before hit you...it didn't bother me."
"Perhaps you're becoming a true collector."
She stood silent for a moment, putting a hand to her forehead. "...Maybe. Would you mind if I showered first?"
"Not at all." She left without a word and I took a seat by the window, looking out at the landscape. The thin forest surrounding the mansion gave way to grassland and farms. The soft chatter of Pidgeys in the trees came through the thick glass with unusual clarity, and a Raticate stalked for prey in the snow, gathering frost on its fur and leaving a brushy track behind it.
I felt as though I was simply viewing a painting. Something hung on a wall that would be replaced with a different scene in time. But truthfully, I wouldn't have had it any other way.
"It's your turn." It had only been a few minutes, but when sharing quarters with someone it was simply polite to be quick. Even her hair had been blow-dried in the short time.
"Ah, thank you."
We met Asaph for breakfast, and conversation remained light and free of the tension from the night before. Though in theory it was pleasant, in practice it was unsettling, like an exercise in surrealism. I had in mind the image of a painting I had seen, an otherwise ordinary looking man with no nose. The picture had disturbed me, and I'd slept fitfully the night after. I hoped that breakfast wouldn't lead to a similar situation.
As we finished, however, he took the last sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. "Veronica. I have come to a decision."
She sat upright, having adopted a slight slump during the meal. "Yes?"
"...By my calculations and estimation of your wealth, the price we discussed will nearly wipe you out, correct?"
That was odd. It was nearly forbidden to discuss money in public, and I was far enough outside the situation to qualify.
Veronica gulped, but remained steadfast. "I don't care."
He made direct eye contact with her, and I shifted with discomfort. "With that understanding, the Eye of Dawn is yours."
She gasped, a broadening smile forming. "Thank you so much! I won't disappoint you. I'll treat it with the reverence it deserves."
"I do have one condition, however." At his word, she seemed to jump ever so slightly.
"Yes?"
"You will not take ownership of it right away. As you know, I've been invited to participate in an exhibit of the Fuchsia Museum, and I intend to display it there." Though there was nothing left in his cup, he raised it to his lips in a social gesture. "I will list it as on loan from you, but possessed by me, and will surrender full ownership to you after the exhibit closes."
"Yes, of course." Ever the demonstrative speaker, she nodded rapidly, though within the outlines of manners. "I'll have time to set up a proper display for it by then."
"Yes, that should give you plenty of time." It seemed sarcastic, though he would have no reason to be. Perhaps he was genuine and simply tired; I doubted that he had slept well.
Her smile had wavered but never disappeared. "I'll have the full payment to you within the week."
"I expect you will. You're very responsible." That was said without any suspicion.
Maybe it was the light from the high window hitting her just right, but she seemed in that moment to glow.
Asaph forbad me from taking the bus back to Seafoam, and made sure I was bundled up and sent back in Igasho's care. The chauffer rarely spoke, but I was company enough for myself. I'd developed the habit some time before of talking to myself quietly, enough to scarcely be noticed by those around me.
"He'll be busy," I mused, thinking of my father. "So much paperwork and damage recovery. I'll get to be alone, so that's nice. I've got plenty to do." I had a report due for class, and intended to brush up on some of the languages I had studied. Thinking of that, I lapsed into ancient Kantan simply because I could. "<I wonder if anybody can understand me when I say these things...It isn't as though it's common to hear. And there isn't much literature to keep it alive, either.>"
I could hear a chuckle from the front seat. Perhaps Igasho had heard me and somehow understood, or perhaps it was simply a coincidence.
"<The servant must have great hearing.>" Of course, the word for servant was difficult to translate, as it referred to all the staff of a private residence, though in later stages was used to speak of all public employees, such as carriage taxis and merchants.
He chuckled again, and whispered something that sounded like "<They does indeed.>" Ancient Kantan had no gender modifiers, and what would translate as "they" was treated as singular.
"When did you learn it?" I'd reverted to my native tongue and conversational volume.
"A while back. I studied literature before I became a driver. I took this job because it wasn't much work, and I could read between trips."
It was unusual for servants to share their personal lives, but I had asked. "Formal study?"
"A bit. I never went to university, but I read a lot. You read a lot too, don't you?"
He'd never seen me with a book, but Asaph would likely have spoken of him. "Of course. The world is there to unlock."
"That's a nice way of looking at things." That chuckle again. What an odd way of laughing.
"I hope so. I'll be the shining star of the collector world."
"It's nice to have goals."
Neither of us said anything after that.
Seafoam was windy, beating against the buildings and sending the sparse winter populace inside. Tourists stayed away that time of year, and with them their money. Although that didn't affect the factory, with consistent business no matter the weather.
The heat from it, though tempered considerably through distance, kept the house from having to run heat until night. It was one of the few pleasant things about living there. But being the room directly over the ocean, mine was the coldest of all.
I had to spend time there, though. Wearing heavier clothes helped me train for my professional life, a world of formalwear and meetings. And they were more comfortable than lighter clothes, even when it was hot out.
And, of course, that elsewhere I would be pestered by an unpleasant element.
I took up a book on gemstones, the discussion of the past few days putting my mind on them. The usual diamonds and emeralds dotted the pages, but more uncommon ones such as pyrope and kunzite. I idilly flipped to the section on opals.
"Oh," I remarked to myself, "I didn't expect that..." Though there was no accompanying picture, it brought up the Eye of Dawn, devoting half a sentence to it alongside another, larger one that had belonged to a king. The article spoke of histories of certain deposits, as well as artificial ones. The science of artificial gems was an interesting one, but all I cared about was how to detect them. So many collectors, even well-established ones, were fooled by them, although I trusted Asaph in his acquisition. After all, he was the one who taught me to look for them.
Veronica hadn't looked, though. If it had been a fake, she would have been swindled. "I hadn't either, but I wasn't looking..."
She was naive, I thought. Unpolished, to use the language of the book. But I thought of the supposed diamond star, far away in space, and imagined her shining from the heavens someday. "She could be brighter than me."
The thought of her surpassing me inspired a faint jealousy, alongside fainter pride. I wondered how Asaph felt about it, knowing that it was inevitable for us to outshine him.
I'd have servants of my own someday, although it was discomforting. Having to deal with people around my collection on a daily basis as a disturbing thought. Even if they were entirely trustworthy, accidents would be more likely to happen, but that wasn't my primary reason.
To say that I disliked people would be untrue. I liked Veronica. I liked Asaph. I liked Helen. I even liked the bustle of the deal, the rush those dealings gave. But I preferred to be with my collection. Even as sparse as it was in those days, I felt as though I was surrounded by dear friends.
I rolled off the bed where I had come to read, remembering that Asaph had instructed us to sit and stand. I'd wondered about that, since it wasn't a social rule when we were by ourselves.
My mother's ring was slightly twisted on my finger. The ruby wasn't of any reasonable quality, and I suppose a man of sense would replace the stone. But then it wouldn't be her ring.
My other hand rested on the latest addition to my collection, a small netsuke of the prior century, in the shape of a more compact Pikachu. The style of the time had started the trend away from the older designs and towards cuter variants, although it had yet to achieve the Hi Skitty level of commercialism. The ears lay back and the tail wrapped around the body in order to provide a smoother surface, as the carver was still a beginner at the time. But he had gone on to become a master at his craft, even in the decline of the kimono style, and earlier works were sought. I had been lucky to nab it, but the seller didn't seem to know what they had.
"There's so many idiots in this field," I told the carving. "You're fortunate to have been plucked from a life of obscurity. I'll give you the attention you deserve." Until I sold or traded it, of course, as the piece didn't interest me directly, but even something held temporaily ought to be given respect.
Strange as it may seem, I swear I felt as though it was happy.
I'd do that. I'd make a collection the pieces themselves could be proud of.
I had returned to my schoolwork, finishing my maths in short time. I didn't mind it, and I knew it was commonplace for students to hate it. Initially it had been difficult for me to understand, but when a teacher failed to make something clear I knew how to research what I needed.
History was less grasping. Kanto is a land of rich history and fascinating figures, but the textbooks were dry and lifeless. The essays I wrote on it were similar, dull and apathetic. I could do better, of course, but lower quality was already doing very well to them. It was pandering, but it was all they deserved. Initially I had done so to see what would happen. Maybe I was like that sculptor then, satisfying the masses and hoping my real talent would shine through while knowing that it would be wasted to show it fully.
What I had thought earlier, about there being so many idiots, came to mind again, but I hadn't time to think as the doorbell rang.
My father and Helen were in the factory and wouldn't hear it, so I had to leave my sanctuary to answer it. I nearly didn't, admittedly, with that frustration in my head.
But I primed my best manner as I drew open the door at the base of the steps. "May I help you?"
The man wore a shirt embroidered with the name and logo of a nearby television station. "Yes, I'm looking for Corbin."
I had nearly forgotten about the events of the previous day. "Of course. He'll be in the factory. Please try there first in the future."
He pulled back a bit. "Oh um...I just assumed due to the hour...I apologize. Are you his son?"
"Yes. I'll show you there." There was an entrance through the house, but I wasn't about to take him there. "Pardon me for a moment."
If I had to guess, I'd take him for confused when I closed the door. It was still snowing, and I had to dress for taking him through the back. The shoes I had just taken off would suffice for a short jaunt, though they wouldn't be appropriate for longer walks in those conditions.
He had already started to walk around the back of the house, nearly out of sight around the corner, when I returned to attention. I had told him I would show him there! "Pardon me."
"Oh? I'm sorry, you closed the door and I thought you had changed your mind."
"Why would you think that?"
He shrugged. "Aah, I don't know. Anyway, lead the way!"
I did as I had offered, taking him to the gigantic wide doors designed for the delivery of large materials. They were wide open, as they usually were to aerate the factory, and I was able to lead him in without waiting.
"Hey, thanks. Say, what's your name?"
"Jirarudan," I answered as I looked off into the depths of the factory, which was considerably quieter than usual.
"Oh, that's an unusual name. What do you think about the tragedy in the factory?"
How unprofessional. "It's got nothing to do with me. You print hundreds of obituaries every week; do you have thoughts on all of them?"
He backed off a bit from where he had knelt down to address me. "I...see. I guess that's all right. Is that the office in there?"
I could see my father and Helen inside. "Yes. You'll be able to speak with either of them."
"Hey, thanks there J--" I could tell that he had entirely forgotten my name. "kid."
I didn't feel like wasting any more time on him, so I bowed slightly and headed back to the house. He hadn't done any wonders for my sense of disappointment in those around me.
It was pessimistic of me, looking back. The foolishness of the age combined with my awakening of the world past myself...I suppose that always leads to negativity. But I had difficulty looking past those reactions.
Perhaps I had come across as too grim. Saying that the tragedy had nothing to do with me seemed to shock the man, but it was true. Veronica and Asaph had confirmed that for me, and even my initial concern had regarded my lack of reaction to it.
The art world was full of shocking things. Every day I was moved by things that didn't concern me. My world was filling with them like a plungepool under a giant waterfall, and I had all I needed in it.
I returned to my small world, the wonders of it embracing me.
"Hey, Jiri?" Some time later, it was Helen. "Can I come in?"
I had nodded off, my face in a book. "Mm...all right." It was too late for a nap anyway, the sun already down.
She closed the door behind her and stood against it. "Thank you for bringing that reporter to us. They've been coming to the house all day."
"You're welcome." I sat up on the bed, but didn't stand as I should. "There's more to your visit than that."
"Haha yeah...I wanted to talk to you about something he said. Jiri, I know you think that this tragedy doesn't affect you..."
When she paused for words, I added my thoughts. "It doesn't though. The factory is covered against these things, and you have cameras throughout to prove that it was an accident, so you aren't in any danger of closing. Even a lawsuit would be inconsequential."
She sighed and came closer. "I guess you're right. But it comes off as cold, and people can misinterpret it. Even if something doesn't affect you at all, if people are worried about it, you should show some concern. You're so polite! It should be easy for you." With a tilt of her head, she smiled. "What would Asaph say you should do?"
"I asked him," I recalled. "He said I was just happy it wasn't my father."
"Oh huh." She had been in the process of kneeling down but at that, tilted back slightly on her heel. "That makes sense. Yeah, I can see that. But do you see what I mean?"
It wasn't the easiest thing to answer. I understood what she meant, but the approach to the subject was unusual. It didn't make sense, like so much of the world; it was a cloud passing around me. "I'm confused. But I'll try."
"That's good!" She rocketed upwards, back to her feet. "You'll do it. I know you will." Another pause. "You know fathers. They worry. But you're such a smart boy, I don't think we have anything to worry about."
'We' didn't go unnoticed, but I didn't really care. "Thank you."
"What are you reading?"
I closed the cover, marking my place with a finger. "A history of political art in the Cascadia region."
"Oh yeah? I didn't know you were into that. I thought you liked more classical stuff."
"I don't much care for it. But I like studying the evolution of techniques."
Another smile. "Studying is good for you. You're lucky that way. In a way, it's good that you don't want to be a trainer. A lot of kids miss a lot of education that way, even when they take distance classes like you. They don't devote the time they should."
I leaned back against the wall, putting the book aside and drawing my hand away from its place. "You were a trainer briefly, correct?"
"Ah, for a few months. Tried to do the league and everything. I did get a few gym badges, but eh...it's not for everyone. Although I'm glad I did it. Vulpix and I got super close during it, and we had some fun."
I could hear the waves out the window. "She's a beautiful Ninetales."
"She is. Have you thought about having a partner pokémon? Even if you're not a trainer, they're wonderful company. It's a mutual relationship."
I could feel my hairdo become ever so slightly out of place as it rubbed against the window frame. "Someone told me that I remind them of a Xatu."
"Oh, that's clever," she chuckled. "I can sort of see it. Though I think of you more like a Pidgey. Destined for greatness!"
Pidgey were so common, though. I know she meant it as a compliment, more or less, and I suppose I was of common birth, and Pidgeot was so elegant. "Thank you."
"Would you want to have a Xatu? Or anything else?"
Oh, the pokémon I could have listed. Lugia even then was at the top of my list. Likely a Milotic, for show and later trade. Anything sufficiently beautiful or legendary, of course. But nothing that would be usually seen, I thought. "Not really."
"Well, if you change your mind, we could help you find someone."
"No thank you." Such a strange offer. "I can make my own connections."
"Haha! I wish I'd sounded as sophisticated as you when I was your age!" There was a certain charm evident in her voice. "You really are an impressive kid."
That was my aim, of course. I wanted to be that shining star that both my mother and Asaph had said. And I knew I would be. It was fate, destiny, whatever one wanted to call it. "Thank you. I hope to be an impressive adult as well." It came out more serious than I wanted, so I smiled.
"You will be. There's no doubt in my mind about it." I think her smile was more natural. I still hadn't mastered that. "I have to get back down there, but it was nice having this conversation with you. I feel like I understand you more now."
I nodded back. "Thank you. I had a pleasant time as well."
She laughed as she headed back down the stairs, and it sounded like something in a dream.
The night had refreshed us, and we were awakened by the morning call of a Dodrio from a distant farm. Veronica yawned and stretched her arms out to brush against the wall. She seemed untroubled, and that she had slept through the night relaxed me as well.
"Pleasant dreams?" I asked, standing from the bed and drawing the thin curtain open. No doubt my hair was a mess, but hers was its typical fluff. Perhaps I ought to invest in a nightcap myself, I mused.
"I don't really remember. But it's better than bad dreams." She smoothed out her side of the bed despite servants to do so. "It's funny. Even that sudden moment when the memories of the day before hit you...it didn't bother me."
"Perhaps you're becoming a true collector."
She stood silent for a moment, putting a hand to her forehead. "...Maybe. Would you mind if I showered first?"
"Not at all." She left without a word and I took a seat by the window, looking out at the landscape. The thin forest surrounding the mansion gave way to grassland and farms. The soft chatter of Pidgeys in the trees came through the thick glass with unusual clarity, and a Raticate stalked for prey in the snow, gathering frost on its fur and leaving a brushy track behind it.
I felt as though I was simply viewing a painting. Something hung on a wall that would be replaced with a different scene in time. But truthfully, I wouldn't have had it any other way.
"It's your turn." It had only been a few minutes, but when sharing quarters with someone it was simply polite to be quick. Even her hair had been blow-dried in the short time.
"Ah, thank you."
We met Asaph for breakfast, and conversation remained light and free of the tension from the night before. Though in theory it was pleasant, in practice it was unsettling, like an exercise in surrealism. I had in mind the image of a painting I had seen, an otherwise ordinary looking man with no nose. The picture had disturbed me, and I'd slept fitfully the night after. I hoped that breakfast wouldn't lead to a similar situation.
As we finished, however, he took the last sip of his coffee and cleared his throat. "Veronica. I have come to a decision."
She sat upright, having adopted a slight slump during the meal. "Yes?"
"...By my calculations and estimation of your wealth, the price we discussed will nearly wipe you out, correct?"
That was odd. It was nearly forbidden to discuss money in public, and I was far enough outside the situation to qualify.
Veronica gulped, but remained steadfast. "I don't care."
He made direct eye contact with her, and I shifted with discomfort. "With that understanding, the Eye of Dawn is yours."
She gasped, a broadening smile forming. "Thank you so much! I won't disappoint you. I'll treat it with the reverence it deserves."
"I do have one condition, however." At his word, she seemed to jump ever so slightly.
"Yes?"
"You will not take ownership of it right away. As you know, I've been invited to participate in an exhibit of the Fuchsia Museum, and I intend to display it there." Though there was nothing left in his cup, he raised it to his lips in a social gesture. "I will list it as on loan from you, but possessed by me, and will surrender full ownership to you after the exhibit closes."
"Yes, of course." Ever the demonstrative speaker, she nodded rapidly, though within the outlines of manners. "I'll have time to set up a proper display for it by then."
"Yes, that should give you plenty of time." It seemed sarcastic, though he would have no reason to be. Perhaps he was genuine and simply tired; I doubted that he had slept well.
Her smile had wavered but never disappeared. "I'll have the full payment to you within the week."
"I expect you will. You're very responsible." That was said without any suspicion.
Maybe it was the light from the high window hitting her just right, but she seemed in that moment to glow.
Asaph forbad me from taking the bus back to Seafoam, and made sure I was bundled up and sent back in Igasho's care. The chauffer rarely spoke, but I was company enough for myself. I'd developed the habit some time before of talking to myself quietly, enough to scarcely be noticed by those around me.
"He'll be busy," I mused, thinking of my father. "So much paperwork and damage recovery. I'll get to be alone, so that's nice. I've got plenty to do." I had a report due for class, and intended to brush up on some of the languages I had studied. Thinking of that, I lapsed into ancient Kantan simply because I could. "<I wonder if anybody can understand me when I say these things...It isn't as though it's common to hear. And there isn't much literature to keep it alive, either.>"
I could hear a chuckle from the front seat. Perhaps Igasho had heard me and somehow understood, or perhaps it was simply a coincidence.
"<The servant must have great hearing.>" Of course, the word for servant was difficult to translate, as it referred to all the staff of a private residence, though in later stages was used to speak of all public employees, such as carriage taxis and merchants.
He chuckled again, and whispered something that sounded like "<They does indeed.>" Ancient Kantan had no gender modifiers, and what would translate as "they" was treated as singular.
"When did you learn it?" I'd reverted to my native tongue and conversational volume.
"A while back. I studied literature before I became a driver. I took this job because it wasn't much work, and I could read between trips."
It was unusual for servants to share their personal lives, but I had asked. "Formal study?"
"A bit. I never went to university, but I read a lot. You read a lot too, don't you?"
He'd never seen me with a book, but Asaph would likely have spoken of him. "Of course. The world is there to unlock."
"That's a nice way of looking at things." That chuckle again. What an odd way of laughing.
"I hope so. I'll be the shining star of the collector world."
"It's nice to have goals."
Neither of us said anything after that.
Seafoam was windy, beating against the buildings and sending the sparse winter populace inside. Tourists stayed away that time of year, and with them their money. Although that didn't affect the factory, with consistent business no matter the weather.
The heat from it, though tempered considerably through distance, kept the house from having to run heat until night. It was one of the few pleasant things about living there. But being the room directly over the ocean, mine was the coldest of all.
I had to spend time there, though. Wearing heavier clothes helped me train for my professional life, a world of formalwear and meetings. And they were more comfortable than lighter clothes, even when it was hot out.
And, of course, that elsewhere I would be pestered by an unpleasant element.
I took up a book on gemstones, the discussion of the past few days putting my mind on them. The usual diamonds and emeralds dotted the pages, but more uncommon ones such as pyrope and kunzite. I idilly flipped to the section on opals.
"Oh," I remarked to myself, "I didn't expect that..." Though there was no accompanying picture, it brought up the Eye of Dawn, devoting half a sentence to it alongside another, larger one that had belonged to a king. The article spoke of histories of certain deposits, as well as artificial ones. The science of artificial gems was an interesting one, but all I cared about was how to detect them. So many collectors, even well-established ones, were fooled by them, although I trusted Asaph in his acquisition. After all, he was the one who taught me to look for them.
Veronica hadn't looked, though. If it had been a fake, she would have been swindled. "I hadn't either, but I wasn't looking..."
She was naive, I thought. Unpolished, to use the language of the book. But I thought of the supposed diamond star, far away in space, and imagined her shining from the heavens someday. "She could be brighter than me."
The thought of her surpassing me inspired a faint jealousy, alongside fainter pride. I wondered how Asaph felt about it, knowing that it was inevitable for us to outshine him.
I'd have servants of my own someday, although it was discomforting. Having to deal with people around my collection on a daily basis as a disturbing thought. Even if they were entirely trustworthy, accidents would be more likely to happen, but that wasn't my primary reason.
To say that I disliked people would be untrue. I liked Veronica. I liked Asaph. I liked Helen. I even liked the bustle of the deal, the rush those dealings gave. But I preferred to be with my collection. Even as sparse as it was in those days, I felt as though I was surrounded by dear friends.
I rolled off the bed where I had come to read, remembering that Asaph had instructed us to sit and stand. I'd wondered about that, since it wasn't a social rule when we were by ourselves.
My mother's ring was slightly twisted on my finger. The ruby wasn't of any reasonable quality, and I suppose a man of sense would replace the stone. But then it wouldn't be her ring.
My other hand rested on the latest addition to my collection, a small netsuke of the prior century, in the shape of a more compact Pikachu. The style of the time had started the trend away from the older designs and towards cuter variants, although it had yet to achieve the Hi Skitty level of commercialism. The ears lay back and the tail wrapped around the body in order to provide a smoother surface, as the carver was still a beginner at the time. But he had gone on to become a master at his craft, even in the decline of the kimono style, and earlier works were sought. I had been lucky to nab it, but the seller didn't seem to know what they had.
"There's so many idiots in this field," I told the carving. "You're fortunate to have been plucked from a life of obscurity. I'll give you the attention you deserve." Until I sold or traded it, of course, as the piece didn't interest me directly, but even something held temporaily ought to be given respect.
Strange as it may seem, I swear I felt as though it was happy.
I'd do that. I'd make a collection the pieces themselves could be proud of.
I had returned to my schoolwork, finishing my maths in short time. I didn't mind it, and I knew it was commonplace for students to hate it. Initially it had been difficult for me to understand, but when a teacher failed to make something clear I knew how to research what I needed.
History was less grasping. Kanto is a land of rich history and fascinating figures, but the textbooks were dry and lifeless. The essays I wrote on it were similar, dull and apathetic. I could do better, of course, but lower quality was already doing very well to them. It was pandering, but it was all they deserved. Initially I had done so to see what would happen. Maybe I was like that sculptor then, satisfying the masses and hoping my real talent would shine through while knowing that it would be wasted to show it fully.
What I had thought earlier, about there being so many idiots, came to mind again, but I hadn't time to think as the doorbell rang.
My father and Helen were in the factory and wouldn't hear it, so I had to leave my sanctuary to answer it. I nearly didn't, admittedly, with that frustration in my head.
But I primed my best manner as I drew open the door at the base of the steps. "May I help you?"
The man wore a shirt embroidered with the name and logo of a nearby television station. "Yes, I'm looking for Corbin."
I had nearly forgotten about the events of the previous day. "Of course. He'll be in the factory. Please try there first in the future."
He pulled back a bit. "Oh um...I just assumed due to the hour...I apologize. Are you his son?"
"Yes. I'll show you there." There was an entrance through the house, but I wasn't about to take him there. "Pardon me for a moment."
If I had to guess, I'd take him for confused when I closed the door. It was still snowing, and I had to dress for taking him through the back. The shoes I had just taken off would suffice for a short jaunt, though they wouldn't be appropriate for longer walks in those conditions.
He had already started to walk around the back of the house, nearly out of sight around the corner, when I returned to attention. I had told him I would show him there! "Pardon me."
"Oh? I'm sorry, you closed the door and I thought you had changed your mind."
"Why would you think that?"
He shrugged. "Aah, I don't know. Anyway, lead the way!"
I did as I had offered, taking him to the gigantic wide doors designed for the delivery of large materials. They were wide open, as they usually were to aerate the factory, and I was able to lead him in without waiting.
"Hey, thanks. Say, what's your name?"
"Jirarudan," I answered as I looked off into the depths of the factory, which was considerably quieter than usual.
"Oh, that's an unusual name. What do you think about the tragedy in the factory?"
How unprofessional. "It's got nothing to do with me. You print hundreds of obituaries every week; do you have thoughts on all of them?"
He backed off a bit from where he had knelt down to address me. "I...see. I guess that's all right. Is that the office in there?"
I could see my father and Helen inside. "Yes. You'll be able to speak with either of them."
"Hey, thanks there J--" I could tell that he had entirely forgotten my name. "kid."
I didn't feel like wasting any more time on him, so I bowed slightly and headed back to the house. He hadn't done any wonders for my sense of disappointment in those around me.
It was pessimistic of me, looking back. The foolishness of the age combined with my awakening of the world past myself...I suppose that always leads to negativity. But I had difficulty looking past those reactions.
Perhaps I had come across as too grim. Saying that the tragedy had nothing to do with me seemed to shock the man, but it was true. Veronica and Asaph had confirmed that for me, and even my initial concern had regarded my lack of reaction to it.
The art world was full of shocking things. Every day I was moved by things that didn't concern me. My world was filling with them like a plungepool under a giant waterfall, and I had all I needed in it.
I returned to my small world, the wonders of it embracing me.
"Hey, Jiri?" Some time later, it was Helen. "Can I come in?"
I had nodded off, my face in a book. "Mm...all right." It was too late for a nap anyway, the sun already down.
She closed the door behind her and stood against it. "Thank you for bringing that reporter to us. They've been coming to the house all day."
"You're welcome." I sat up on the bed, but didn't stand as I should. "There's more to your visit than that."
"Haha yeah...I wanted to talk to you about something he said. Jiri, I know you think that this tragedy doesn't affect you..."
When she paused for words, I added my thoughts. "It doesn't though. The factory is covered against these things, and you have cameras throughout to prove that it was an accident, so you aren't in any danger of closing. Even a lawsuit would be inconsequential."
She sighed and came closer. "I guess you're right. But it comes off as cold, and people can misinterpret it. Even if something doesn't affect you at all, if people are worried about it, you should show some concern. You're so polite! It should be easy for you." With a tilt of her head, she smiled. "What would Asaph say you should do?"
"I asked him," I recalled. "He said I was just happy it wasn't my father."
"Oh huh." She had been in the process of kneeling down but at that, tilted back slightly on her heel. "That makes sense. Yeah, I can see that. But do you see what I mean?"
It wasn't the easiest thing to answer. I understood what she meant, but the approach to the subject was unusual. It didn't make sense, like so much of the world; it was a cloud passing around me. "I'm confused. But I'll try."
"That's good!" She rocketed upwards, back to her feet. "You'll do it. I know you will." Another pause. "You know fathers. They worry. But you're such a smart boy, I don't think we have anything to worry about."
'We' didn't go unnoticed, but I didn't really care. "Thank you."
"What are you reading?"
I closed the cover, marking my place with a finger. "A history of political art in the Cascadia region."
"Oh yeah? I didn't know you were into that. I thought you liked more classical stuff."
"I don't much care for it. But I like studying the evolution of techniques."
Another smile. "Studying is good for you. You're lucky that way. In a way, it's good that you don't want to be a trainer. A lot of kids miss a lot of education that way, even when they take distance classes like you. They don't devote the time they should."
I leaned back against the wall, putting the book aside and drawing my hand away from its place. "You were a trainer briefly, correct?"
"Ah, for a few months. Tried to do the league and everything. I did get a few gym badges, but eh...it's not for everyone. Although I'm glad I did it. Vulpix and I got super close during it, and we had some fun."
I could hear the waves out the window. "She's a beautiful Ninetales."
"She is. Have you thought about having a partner pokémon? Even if you're not a trainer, they're wonderful company. It's a mutual relationship."
I could feel my hairdo become ever so slightly out of place as it rubbed against the window frame. "Someone told me that I remind them of a Xatu."
"Oh, that's clever," she chuckled. "I can sort of see it. Though I think of you more like a Pidgey. Destined for greatness!"
Pidgey were so common, though. I know she meant it as a compliment, more or less, and I suppose I was of common birth, and Pidgeot was so elegant. "Thank you."
"Would you want to have a Xatu? Or anything else?"
Oh, the pokémon I could have listed. Lugia even then was at the top of my list. Likely a Milotic, for show and later trade. Anything sufficiently beautiful or legendary, of course. But nothing that would be usually seen, I thought. "Not really."
"Well, if you change your mind, we could help you find someone."
"No thank you." Such a strange offer. "I can make my own connections."
"Haha! I wish I'd sounded as sophisticated as you when I was your age!" There was a certain charm evident in her voice. "You really are an impressive kid."
That was my aim, of course. I wanted to be that shining star that both my mother and Asaph had said. And I knew I would be. It was fate, destiny, whatever one wanted to call it. "Thank you. I hope to be an impressive adult as well." It came out more serious than I wanted, so I smiled.
"You will be. There's no doubt in my mind about it." I think her smile was more natural. I still hadn't mastered that. "I have to get back down there, but it was nice having this conversation with you. I feel like I understand you more now."
I nodded back. "Thank you. I had a pleasant time as well."
She laughed as she headed back down the stairs, and it sounded like something in a dream.