1????????Soul Bound
1.2??????Taking Control
1.2.6????An Assumed Role
1.2.6.2? Nothing new under the sun?
Salat Fajr, Friday June 9th, 2045
Nadine yawned.
She could survive on five hours of sleep, but she didn’t like it, and today was usually the one day of the week she could sleep in. What had woken her?
She sniffed the air.
Coffee! Someone was brewing coffee downstairs. She made her way down, fearful of what disaster Heather would create in her absence, but discovered instead something most unexpected: Heather was sitting on her hands on a stool, bouncing like a young child whose teacher didn’t trust her not to touch something, while Ketah on the wall screen was watching Ketah wearing jeans and a yellow tank-top cooking.
She shook her head to clear it. Something was strange about the scene. The topsy doll turned around, frying pan in hand, and used a spatula to send bits of bacon flying to land neatly onto two plates already filled with food. Then it made eye contact with her, and gave a grin she recognised.
Nadine: “Tomsk?”
The figure held its spatula at 45 degrees slanting down across its body, like a sword, and bowed over it, maintaining eye contact with her while doing so.
Tomsk: “My Sovereign of Sweet Melodic Sorrows, tempestuous temptress of ten thousand tunes, brave beauty into whose hallowed hearth I am honoured beyond all measure to note that the adorable ace of cunning contrivance and your most generous gentle genie, the Phantom Factotum, have graciously permitted the intrusion of my humble self.”
On the wall screen, Ketah’s cheeks blushed a charming pink, while her gaze dropped to where her feet might be. It seemed Tomsk could even affect expert systems; it was like the man had a superpower. She found herself taking a step towards him, without thinking, then stopped herself, nibbling her lower lip. This just wouldn’t do, she couldn’t behave like that.
Holding her head high, she settled for giving him a wide smile.
Nadine: “Tomsk! Well, that is a surprise. Welcome to Kafana Sabanagic! And Ketah, thank you.”
Heather: “Since you threatened to test whether I could hit a rabbit with a thrown knife in arlife, I invited him over to give me a few pointers.”
Nadine felt a twinge of worry.
Nadine: “Not with my best cooking knives you don’t! And I’m trying to avoid being seen as a likely ‘high technology’ type of person, so not in the village either. Tomsk, how’s your shooting schedule? Think you could fit in an hour later today, to join Heather and me in the woods for a spot of herb gathering, before we fly off to see her Mythoi?”
Tomsk: “Glad to hear you’re taking your security seriously. Heather tells me Gorana and Bahrudin have come up with a cover story for Ketah being a friend of Gorana’s, to explain her presence here if anyone sees her. If she’s willing to walk down to the woods then let me borrow her body, it should be possible to let my crew spend a while rehearsing by themselves.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Tomsk turned to face the wall screen: “Ketah, we’ve got a load of dolls we use for shooting the riskier stunts. If you’d like to make a return visit some time, I’d be honoured to show you some of our better restaurants and let you experience the food in person.”
Nadine: “Tomsk, hands off my sous-chef!”
Tomsk handed her a coffee and held her chair for her. She sat down after taking a sip and felt the caffeine clearing away her brain zombies.
Ah, that’s better. She exhaled contentedly, then looked at the plate of food before her.
Nadine: “Heather, I’m not really a fan of fried food in the morning; for myself, at least. Think you could manage a bit extra?” Heather nodded, her mouth already stuffed. “Tomsk, could you pass me that wicker picker’s basket full of fruit? Yes, the one shaped like a twisted horn with a carrying strap on it.”
They ate peaceably, while Tomsk juggled four oranges behind his back before squeezing them both a glass of juice.
Tomsk: “What’s on the menu for today?”
Heather: “We wait for dawn, then I make like a magician, fixing as much as I can until the mini-bus departs. After that, I’m going to show Nadine the crafting setup I’ll be leaving behind for her, then she’ll be showing me around until we reach this amazing outlaw micro-nation in the late afternoon, called the Hajduk Republic.”
Tomsk: “A veritable cornucopia of delights. But not very precise time keeping.”
Heather shrugged. “I’ve learned that village time is a bit different from city life, a bit less synchronised, a bit less ruled by clocks. And that goes doubly so for Fridays - they all turn into a bunch of sun worshippers.”
Nadine: “No! Don’t let anyone hear you say that, they’ll be terribly offended. In theory they’re terribly conscious of where the sun is, specifically to make sure their prayers don’t happen exactly at sunrise, noon or sunset.”
Tomsk: “So they pay strict attention to it, in order to make clear it isn’t important to them?”
Nadine didn’t feel like arguing. “I don’t judge. It works for them. Tradition.”
Heather: “But sun worship makes sense! All energy on Earth comes from the Sun, and unto the Sun it shall return (in a billion years, or so).”
She left the two of them to argue it out, while she went up to get ready for the day. Damnit, and she’d have to wear her big hair-covering sun hat. What was that speech from Heather’s favourite musical? Oh, yes:
<blockquote>
Because of our traditions, we''ve kept our balance for many, many years.
Here in Anatevka we have traditions for everything...
how to eat, how to sleep, even, how to wear clothes.
For instance, we always keep our heads covered
and always wear a little prayer shawl...
This shows our constant devotion to God.
You may ask, how did this tradition start?
I''ll tell you - I don''t know. But it''s a tradition...
Because of our traditions, everyone knows who he is
and what God expects him to do.
</blockquote>
Well, time for the Wombles to add some new traditions to the mix.