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random_nanorimo_stuff2012-10-25 07:27 pm
random_xtras) wrote in random_nanorimo_stuff2012-10-25 07:27 pm
Sylvia Chapter 2
Sylvia looked up as she walked through the teleportal, her face already creasing into a shy smile even before she saw the quiet blue eye that was shining down at her affectionately. That eye had always been there, every day since the authorities in charge of making sure that the human population of the world was educated had sent a kindly but firm mail to her grandfather insisting that she be enrolled in the nearest educational institution.
"Something is wrong." A hand with a palm the size of a double bed lowered itself to the landing next to her. "Your pulse is elevated, and I detect higher than normal levels of aqueous secretions from your tear glands."
She shook her head as she carefully stepped onto the hand and sat down. "Miss Gladstone asked me to peer tutor another girl after school. When I told her I couldn't do it..." She winced and looked down at her hands. "I'm in the class with the students whose parents don't pay their fees now."
Grandfather paused in the act of turning to bring her to the living area. "I do not understand. Is the money that I donate to the school and to the agencies for paying school fees insufficient? My calculations indicate that there is still ample credit in the fund." He creaked softly as he lowered his face and frowned. "And in any case, I know for a fact that your fees have been paid. I did not present those anonymously."
Sylvia sighed, her gaze still focused on her hands. "It's really where they put the kids with social problems. The ones that cause trouble and don't want to learn."
Grandfather's frown deepened. "I see that I must speak to the school Director. In the meantime..." He turned slowly, leaning heavily on his cane. "Do you feel capable of consuming a flavoured milk beverage and some vegetable chips?"
She was slightly startled by the little chuckle that slipped out of her as thoughts of the comforting snack that had always been part of her welcome home warmed her desolate heart. "I think I can do that, Grandfather. What flavour did you find for me today?"
"Well..." He concentrated on ascending the three steps that led from the portal room to the hallway. "You are fond of peanut butter. And the beverage site has a window where one may request a flavour, so..."
"Peanut butter milk?" Sylvia laughed, her eyes shining softly in the gloom of the hall.
"Chocolate and peanut butter," Grandfather corrected softly, the light from his own lone eye twinkling back down at her, its colour the clear blue that meant that he was happy and at peace.
"Ohhhhh." She brightened with curiosity. "Which kind of beverage is it?"
"Your favourite, the smoothie made with coconut milk." He paused to rest, as he always did now when they'd reached the halfway point of the hall. "I made certain to add iron. Your body will need extra stores of that mineral soon."
Sylvia wrinkled her nose, not particularly liking the reminder of this thing called a menstrual cycle that she got to look forward to now that she was thirteen and her body was starting to change from child to adult.
Grandfather rumbled sympathetically, his fingers closing around her slightly in a hug. "Your grandmother Olivia was not fond of the phenomenon either. Thankfully, human women no longer have to deal with damaging menstrual products and their bodies' reactions to the hormone changes."
"Hormonal changes? You mean there's more than the bleeding?" Sylvia glanced over his fingers and watched as his feet- matte black now instead of the glossy blue that they had been in the old holo on the wall- moved slowly and carefully, each step a well thought out manoeuvre.
"Yes." His voice was a deep and soothing rumble despite the slight crackle from his aged voice processor. "I am speaking of the condition that was once known as 'Pre Menstrual Syndrome', which did not confine itself to the time before the menstrual cycle."
She looked up, frowning. "What was like? Did it hurt?"
"Physically, no. However it was only when she was in the throes of the condition that your grandmother ever offered violence to my person." His eye focused on the far away memory.
Sylvia laughed, the sound echoing softly as they came out into the main living area of the dwelling complex. "But she couldn't have hurt you. She was just human."
"She most assuredly could have." Grandfather set her down gently by the couch on the larger coffee table. "Olivia was a soldier, and the dissidents of my race were the beings that she was trained to combat. However..." He winced and groaned as he bent down painfully, leaning heavily on his cane, to trigger the switch that would raise the seat of his chair and allow him to sit without hurting himself or winding up stuck. "She never actually tried to carry out her threats toward me."
"You're creaking more than ever." Sylvia frowned as she picked up her glass of peanut butter and chocolate flavoured smoothie and settled in her own armchair.
"Yes." He sighed as he wearily settled back in the padded comfort of his chair. "But do not worry. I am in no danger of ceasing to run despite my alarming decrepitude."
"Good," she said quietly and frankly. "Because I need you yet. There's a lot I still have to learn."
He lifted his head, one hand absently rubbing at his left smokestack before he turned his head to examine the faded images inscribed there with spray paint. "Such a love of learning. In that, and in other ways, you are more like my people than like Olivia's."
"Humans like to learn too, Grandfather." She nibbled a chip, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she realized how nicely the mild spicy flavour complimented that of her drink.
"Yes, many humans do." He turned back to her, resting both hands on the head of his cane as he leaned forward. "But I have seen very few who were so methodical in their acquisition and retention of data. And you even prefer learning to recreational activities."
"Learning is a recreational activity." Sylvia laughed, then held up her book. "You were right about Mr. Dickens. He was really good at showing what he thought was wrong with his world through his stories. I saw that in 'Our Mutual Friend', and now I see it in 'Dombey and Son' too."
Then she frowned as she set the book back down. "I hope things work out for the character named Florence. I really like her. She doesn't seem like the kind of person who cares how you dress or what colour you are."
"Indeed." Grandfather nodded, then paused to examine a curled scrap of copper that lay on the table next to his chair before putting it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.
"You ate them all?" Sylvia took her hand off the cover of her book and leaned forward eagerly. "Did you like them?"
"I did." A pleased rumble came from his chest. "The addition of oxidized iron to the blue paint did indeed greatly enhance the flavour."
"I'll make some more tonight." She beamed, glad to be able to return the favour of finding appealing snack food. "Were those shapes good, or should I try different ones?"
"The rolled shape, with the paint toward the center, is my favourite. It allows the flavour of the copper to be savoured before the added flavours of the paint come into play." Grandfather chewed contentedly, one hand going up absently to rub at the scar where his right eye used to be.
"Is it bothering you?" Sylvia frowned with concern at the gesture.
"No." He blinked and smiled down at her. "The damaged relays are silent today. There are no phantom pain signals."
"I'm glad." She finished her snack, then watched as the plate and glass vanished. "Though I still think it's too bad you could never get that fixed."
"The nerves were too badly damaged, and the receptors are too archaic to be replaced easily." The often repeated words rumbled out gently.
"I know," she said softly, looking up at him with compassion. "It just isn't fun to watch you be in pain. I wish I could help. And I don't mean just by being here. You never have told me why you live here, under the human section, instead of with the other cybernetic people."
He shook his head, his gaze dropping to his dented knees. "My time among my people has come to an end. The sons and daughters of my first wife have the worlds well in hand, and all our people prosper. I would only be a reminder of a time that those who can yet remember would rather forget."
"That's not true." Sylvia's eyes went over to the image of his squad, now long since lost to the passages of war and time. "We learn about you in school, and they call you the greatest hero that ever lived."
"That is not true." The frown in Grandfather's deep voice made her turn back to him in surprise. "There were many greater than I, and the greatest of all was a man who never fought a physical battle in His life."
She smiled despite her sense of protest at his words about being forgotten. "Well, nobody at school believes in Jesus. They don't even know the stories about Him. When I looked Him up in the library the files I found said that He's a figure from the religion of your people."
"Yet we learned about Him from humankind." Grandfather's words were muffled by his facepalm. "What is humanity coming to?"
"We'll be okay." She smiled at him, trying to be reassuring, but then laughed when she saw his wry expression as he lowered his hand.
He rumbled a laugh of his own. "Are you going to study now?"
She nodded, her smile becoming a soft grin. "Yes. I found a whole section about Jesus and the history of God introducing Himself to humans. I want to read and memorize all the rest before I go to bed."
"Please do not strain yourself," he exhorted earnestly.
"I won't." The grin got away again as she asked the question she always asked. "Whose turn is it to prepare supper?"
He responded as he always did. "I will do that. What do you wish to consume?"
"You choose." She got up and went to the edge of the large coffee table, then trotted down the spiral staircase that was attached to one corner where it couldn't catch on Grandfather's feet or cane and trip him up. "Everything you make is good."
"I can recall at least two incidents that do not corroborate that statement, Sylvia," he informed her gravely.
She laughed. "I was a year old and just starting to eat solid food. Those don't count. I eat all that stuff now, even the porridge."
"Indeed." His deep chuckle followed her from the room.
* * *
The atrium was whispering softly in the breeze from the air circulation system as Sylvia sat in her favourite tree and studied the information presented on the screen of her computer pad. It showed a page on a popular online auction site, the last of many such pages that she had already perused in the few minutes since she had finished her evening's study, and far from the last for the evening's shopping session. Every human being on the planet was allotted a certain amount of paper per month. These allotments were legally transferable, and since most people preferred to garner their entertainment from more digital means most of the paper wound up offered for sale here on this site. Sylvia always bought as much as she could afford, so that she could add to the collection of real books that stood on neat shelves in her private library. She often wondered why she had the urge to read a story again after she had already memorized it, but the habit was undeniable, as was the desire to read those stories in the form that her grandmother Olivia would have had she read them.
"Many greats grandmother, I guess I should say." She commented on the thought without looking up from her task. "But I actually don't know how many greats it is. All Grandfather has told me is that Grandmother Olivia never came to this world. She lived and died back on Earth. Her and Grandfather's son came here, and he was the first human like me."
"Apple?" A spidery green hand gently intruded the fruit between her eyes and the pad.
She chuckled. "No thank you, Zeta Zelda. Will you give it to the gardener?"
"Okay!" Her stick figure-like little childhood playmate changed to a multi-legged form and skittered down the tree, humming softly all the way.
Sylvia watched her go, and then returned to the auctions and thoughts. "Grandfather had been human for a while, somehow. He says he doesn't know how it happened, but that he welcomed the experience. It's funny..." A small chuckle. "The habits he learned then are still around. He pinches his nose when he's frustrated, and he rubs his eye and yawns when he's tired. I've heard him snort at things, too. And it's fun to get him to teach me old, dead dialects and languages. I just wish I could remember better. He says I'm already at genius IQ, but I think he says it to make me feel good about myself."
"Brainy!" Zeta Zelda was back, her blue eyes twinkling in her friendly sketch of a face.
"If I were brainy I'd know how to fix your programming so you could be smart."
"ZZ happy." The little mechadrone razzed cheerfully.
"Hrrrm." Sylvia finished reading the last auction and buying the contents, then looked up with a sigh. "They won't let me learn anymore at school now. The kids in Mr. Xiao's room are only there to spend time till they can go to one of the industrial training facilities or the correctional institutes."
"Learn learn!" Zeta Zelda offered her the North Frisian grammar text.
Sylvia chuckled quietly, then looked down at the base of the tree to where her foot gloves lay. "Remind me to get a new pair of those from the basic goods provider? I keep forgetting that the soles are worn through."
"Cinderella shoes!" Zeta Zelda set the book down and scooted after a bee.
"That's silly." Sylvia's chuckle was a little stronger as she grinned at her friend. "Cinderella had a mother and sisters who were cruel to her all the time, and inadequate food and clothing. I have everything I need, including a parental unit that loves me. The foot gloves are only clear because they use less resources than the coloured ones."
"Cinderella!" Zeta Zelda laughed, then perked as a deep subsonic pulse softly rustled the leaves that the now silent air recycler no longer stirred. "Noms!!"
"Spaghetti and apple sauce." Sylvia inhaled deeply of the appealing fragrance that whispered out of a nearby vent, and then leaped down from the tree to dart toward the entrance, her armload of books slowing her but little.
* * *
Later, dressed in a soft, warm unisuit with long sleeves and legs, Sylvia wriggled her stockinged feet as she watched her grandfather leave the lower section of the room after making sure that she was comfortable and wishing her a good night. Then she lay back in her hammock and pulled her light sheet up to her chin as she contemplated the soft dance of projected stars that rotated on the ceiling. "Good night, Zeta Zelda."
"Night, John Boy!" came the prompt reply from the big plastic storage basket by the desk.
Sylvia chuckled, then sent up a quick prayer for help with the situation at school, a longer one of thanks for what she had, and a last little request for an easement of Grandfather's creaks and aches. This finished, she left her cares behind and settled down to sleep.
"Something is wrong." A hand with a palm the size of a double bed lowered itself to the landing next to her. "Your pulse is elevated, and I detect higher than normal levels of aqueous secretions from your tear glands."
She shook her head as she carefully stepped onto the hand and sat down. "Miss Gladstone asked me to peer tutor another girl after school. When I told her I couldn't do it..." She winced and looked down at her hands. "I'm in the class with the students whose parents don't pay their fees now."
Grandfather paused in the act of turning to bring her to the living area. "I do not understand. Is the money that I donate to the school and to the agencies for paying school fees insufficient? My calculations indicate that there is still ample credit in the fund." He creaked softly as he lowered his face and frowned. "And in any case, I know for a fact that your fees have been paid. I did not present those anonymously."
Sylvia sighed, her gaze still focused on her hands. "It's really where they put the kids with social problems. The ones that cause trouble and don't want to learn."
Grandfather's frown deepened. "I see that I must speak to the school Director. In the meantime..." He turned slowly, leaning heavily on his cane. "Do you feel capable of consuming a flavoured milk beverage and some vegetable chips?"
She was slightly startled by the little chuckle that slipped out of her as thoughts of the comforting snack that had always been part of her welcome home warmed her desolate heart. "I think I can do that, Grandfather. What flavour did you find for me today?"
"Well..." He concentrated on ascending the three steps that led from the portal room to the hallway. "You are fond of peanut butter. And the beverage site has a window where one may request a flavour, so..."
"Peanut butter milk?" Sylvia laughed, her eyes shining softly in the gloom of the hall.
"Chocolate and peanut butter," Grandfather corrected softly, the light from his own lone eye twinkling back down at her, its colour the clear blue that meant that he was happy and at peace.
"Ohhhhh." She brightened with curiosity. "Which kind of beverage is it?"
"Your favourite, the smoothie made with coconut milk." He paused to rest, as he always did now when they'd reached the halfway point of the hall. "I made certain to add iron. Your body will need extra stores of that mineral soon."
Sylvia wrinkled her nose, not particularly liking the reminder of this thing called a menstrual cycle that she got to look forward to now that she was thirteen and her body was starting to change from child to adult.
Grandfather rumbled sympathetically, his fingers closing around her slightly in a hug. "Your grandmother Olivia was not fond of the phenomenon either. Thankfully, human women no longer have to deal with damaging menstrual products and their bodies' reactions to the hormone changes."
"Hormonal changes? You mean there's more than the bleeding?" Sylvia glanced over his fingers and watched as his feet- matte black now instead of the glossy blue that they had been in the old holo on the wall- moved slowly and carefully, each step a well thought out manoeuvre.
"Yes." His voice was a deep and soothing rumble despite the slight crackle from his aged voice processor. "I am speaking of the condition that was once known as 'Pre Menstrual Syndrome', which did not confine itself to the time before the menstrual cycle."
She looked up, frowning. "What was like? Did it hurt?"
"Physically, no. However it was only when she was in the throes of the condition that your grandmother ever offered violence to my person." His eye focused on the far away memory.
Sylvia laughed, the sound echoing softly as they came out into the main living area of the dwelling complex. "But she couldn't have hurt you. She was just human."
"She most assuredly could have." Grandfather set her down gently by the couch on the larger coffee table. "Olivia was a soldier, and the dissidents of my race were the beings that she was trained to combat. However..." He winced and groaned as he bent down painfully, leaning heavily on his cane, to trigger the switch that would raise the seat of his chair and allow him to sit without hurting himself or winding up stuck. "She never actually tried to carry out her threats toward me."
"You're creaking more than ever." Sylvia frowned as she picked up her glass of peanut butter and chocolate flavoured smoothie and settled in her own armchair.
"Yes." He sighed as he wearily settled back in the padded comfort of his chair. "But do not worry. I am in no danger of ceasing to run despite my alarming decrepitude."
"Good," she said quietly and frankly. "Because I need you yet. There's a lot I still have to learn."
He lifted his head, one hand absently rubbing at his left smokestack before he turned his head to examine the faded images inscribed there with spray paint. "Such a love of learning. In that, and in other ways, you are more like my people than like Olivia's."
"Humans like to learn too, Grandfather." She nibbled a chip, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she realized how nicely the mild spicy flavour complimented that of her drink.
"Yes, many humans do." He turned back to her, resting both hands on the head of his cane as he leaned forward. "But I have seen very few who were so methodical in their acquisition and retention of data. And you even prefer learning to recreational activities."
"Learning is a recreational activity." Sylvia laughed, then held up her book. "You were right about Mr. Dickens. He was really good at showing what he thought was wrong with his world through his stories. I saw that in 'Our Mutual Friend', and now I see it in 'Dombey and Son' too."
Then she frowned as she set the book back down. "I hope things work out for the character named Florence. I really like her. She doesn't seem like the kind of person who cares how you dress or what colour you are."
"Indeed." Grandfather nodded, then paused to examine a curled scrap of copper that lay on the table next to his chair before putting it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.
"You ate them all?" Sylvia took her hand off the cover of her book and leaned forward eagerly. "Did you like them?"
"I did." A pleased rumble came from his chest. "The addition of oxidized iron to the blue paint did indeed greatly enhance the flavour."
"I'll make some more tonight." She beamed, glad to be able to return the favour of finding appealing snack food. "Were those shapes good, or should I try different ones?"
"The rolled shape, with the paint toward the center, is my favourite. It allows the flavour of the copper to be savoured before the added flavours of the paint come into play." Grandfather chewed contentedly, one hand going up absently to rub at the scar where his right eye used to be.
"Is it bothering you?" Sylvia frowned with concern at the gesture.
"No." He blinked and smiled down at her. "The damaged relays are silent today. There are no phantom pain signals."
"I'm glad." She finished her snack, then watched as the plate and glass vanished. "Though I still think it's too bad you could never get that fixed."
"The nerves were too badly damaged, and the receptors are too archaic to be replaced easily." The often repeated words rumbled out gently.
"I know," she said softly, looking up at him with compassion. "It just isn't fun to watch you be in pain. I wish I could help. And I don't mean just by being here. You never have told me why you live here, under the human section, instead of with the other cybernetic people."
He shook his head, his gaze dropping to his dented knees. "My time among my people has come to an end. The sons and daughters of my first wife have the worlds well in hand, and all our people prosper. I would only be a reminder of a time that those who can yet remember would rather forget."
"That's not true." Sylvia's eyes went over to the image of his squad, now long since lost to the passages of war and time. "We learn about you in school, and they call you the greatest hero that ever lived."
"That is not true." The frown in Grandfather's deep voice made her turn back to him in surprise. "There were many greater than I, and the greatest of all was a man who never fought a physical battle in His life."
She smiled despite her sense of protest at his words about being forgotten. "Well, nobody at school believes in Jesus. They don't even know the stories about Him. When I looked Him up in the library the files I found said that He's a figure from the religion of your people."
"Yet we learned about Him from humankind." Grandfather's words were muffled by his facepalm. "What is humanity coming to?"
"We'll be okay." She smiled at him, trying to be reassuring, but then laughed when she saw his wry expression as he lowered his hand.
He rumbled a laugh of his own. "Are you going to study now?"
She nodded, her smile becoming a soft grin. "Yes. I found a whole section about Jesus and the history of God introducing Himself to humans. I want to read and memorize all the rest before I go to bed."
"Please do not strain yourself," he exhorted earnestly.
"I won't." The grin got away again as she asked the question she always asked. "Whose turn is it to prepare supper?"
He responded as he always did. "I will do that. What do you wish to consume?"
"You choose." She got up and went to the edge of the large coffee table, then trotted down the spiral staircase that was attached to one corner where it couldn't catch on Grandfather's feet or cane and trip him up. "Everything you make is good."
"I can recall at least two incidents that do not corroborate that statement, Sylvia," he informed her gravely.
She laughed. "I was a year old and just starting to eat solid food. Those don't count. I eat all that stuff now, even the porridge."
"Indeed." His deep chuckle followed her from the room.
The atrium was whispering softly in the breeze from the air circulation system as Sylvia sat in her favourite tree and studied the information presented on the screen of her computer pad. It showed a page on a popular online auction site, the last of many such pages that she had already perused in the few minutes since she had finished her evening's study, and far from the last for the evening's shopping session. Every human being on the planet was allotted a certain amount of paper per month. These allotments were legally transferable, and since most people preferred to garner their entertainment from more digital means most of the paper wound up offered for sale here on this site. Sylvia always bought as much as she could afford, so that she could add to the collection of real books that stood on neat shelves in her private library. She often wondered why she had the urge to read a story again after she had already memorized it, but the habit was undeniable, as was the desire to read those stories in the form that her grandmother Olivia would have had she read them.
"Many greats grandmother, I guess I should say." She commented on the thought without looking up from her task. "But I actually don't know how many greats it is. All Grandfather has told me is that Grandmother Olivia never came to this world. She lived and died back on Earth. Her and Grandfather's son came here, and he was the first human like me."
"Apple?" A spidery green hand gently intruded the fruit between her eyes and the pad.
She chuckled. "No thank you, Zeta Zelda. Will you give it to the gardener?"
"Okay!" Her stick figure-like little childhood playmate changed to a multi-legged form and skittered down the tree, humming softly all the way.
Sylvia watched her go, and then returned to the auctions and thoughts. "Grandfather had been human for a while, somehow. He says he doesn't know how it happened, but that he welcomed the experience. It's funny..." A small chuckle. "The habits he learned then are still around. He pinches his nose when he's frustrated, and he rubs his eye and yawns when he's tired. I've heard him snort at things, too. And it's fun to get him to teach me old, dead dialects and languages. I just wish I could remember better. He says I'm already at genius IQ, but I think he says it to make me feel good about myself."
"Brainy!" Zeta Zelda was back, her blue eyes twinkling in her friendly sketch of a face.
"If I were brainy I'd know how to fix your programming so you could be smart."
"ZZ happy." The little mechadrone razzed cheerfully.
"Hrrrm." Sylvia finished reading the last auction and buying the contents, then looked up with a sigh. "They won't let me learn anymore at school now. The kids in Mr. Xiao's room are only there to spend time till they can go to one of the industrial training facilities or the correctional institutes."
"Learn learn!" Zeta Zelda offered her the North Frisian grammar text.
Sylvia chuckled quietly, then looked down at the base of the tree to where her foot gloves lay. "Remind me to get a new pair of those from the basic goods provider? I keep forgetting that the soles are worn through."
"Cinderella shoes!" Zeta Zelda set the book down and scooted after a bee.
"That's silly." Sylvia's chuckle was a little stronger as she grinned at her friend. "Cinderella had a mother and sisters who were cruel to her all the time, and inadequate food and clothing. I have everything I need, including a parental unit that loves me. The foot gloves are only clear because they use less resources than the coloured ones."
"Cinderella!" Zeta Zelda laughed, then perked as a deep subsonic pulse softly rustled the leaves that the now silent air recycler no longer stirred. "Noms!!"
"Spaghetti and apple sauce." Sylvia inhaled deeply of the appealing fragrance that whispered out of a nearby vent, and then leaped down from the tree to dart toward the entrance, her armload of books slowing her but little.
Later, dressed in a soft, warm unisuit with long sleeves and legs, Sylvia wriggled her stockinged feet as she watched her grandfather leave the lower section of the room after making sure that she was comfortable and wishing her a good night. Then she lay back in her hammock and pulled her light sheet up to her chin as she contemplated the soft dance of projected stars that rotated on the ceiling. "Good night, Zeta Zelda."
"Night, John Boy!" came the prompt reply from the big plastic storage basket by the desk.
Sylvia chuckled, then sent up a quick prayer for help with the situation at school, a longer one of thanks for what she had, and a last little request for an easement of Grandfather's creaks and aches. This finished, she left her cares behind and settled down to sleep.