Cello Disaster Averted

Posted on Fri 25th Aug, 2023 @ 6:54am by Lieutenant JG Kellian Michaels
Edited on Fri 25th Aug, 2023 @ 7:52am

602 words; about a 3 minute read

Kellian Michaels came in from work and flopped down on his sofa. He could never understand why running lab tests all day could make him this tired, but he was glad to be out of the forensics lab.

"Computer, check personal email," he directed.

Working, the computer said. Letter from Rafe Thomas. advertisement from Bits and Bytes, advertisement from Qaraq's Bar, letter from Andrew Michaels, stock analysis from--

Kellian suddenly sat up on the couch. "Computer, stop! Read the letter from Andrew Michaels." It's about bloody time he wrote, Kellian thought.

The computer chimed once and began its recitation.

Hello, son,

I know this letter is somewhat delayed. I came down with appendicitis, of all things, so I was laid up in hospital for a couple of days. I'm all better now, though, so I am cleared to visit you on Starbase 109 and try out this Orchids & Jazz restaurant you've gone on about. It sounds delightful. I am leaving Earth in a week and expect to arrive at 109 two weeks after that. Will that work for you?

I have family news to discuss, as well.

Tell me how your music is coming along. Have you found a chamber orchestra to play with on the starbase yet--or started one? I would love to hear you. I can bring your cello from home with me, if you'd like.

I must go, as I have to plan what to bring and parcel out my work for while I'm gone. I look forward to seeing you, son.

Love,

Dad

Kellian pinched his nose in annoyance. Appendicitis? You couldn't have told me that sooner? He sighed. 'Family news' sounded ominous, even coming from the computer's neutral-toned voice. He quelled the butterflies in his gut--until the idea of his father bringing his cello to him from home made Kellian wince. He allowed no one else to touch his instrument, not even when it was in its case. Hurriedly, he composed a reply.

"Computer, compose reply to Andrew Michaels as follows:"

Dear Dad,

Thanks for letting me know about your appendix. That sounds godawful painful, so I'm glad it's out and that you've recovered. I was beginning to wonder when you planned to write.

I have tragic news. Orchids & Jazz closed its doors! I and all of its regular customers are heartbroken. No more Death by Chocolate. I hear Ms. Lantz, the owner, relocated to San Francisco and will be reopening it soon over there, so next time I can take leave on Earth, we can see if we can find the place.

I hope the family is doing well, and I look forward to your news.

Lately, I've been working on a piece of music that my girlfriend gave me, and that's occupied much of my practice time. I look forward to introducing you to her. I haven't looked for a local chamber group or considered starting one; my work keeps me too busy to commit to that. Please DO NOT bring my cello from home; it's fine where it is, and I've bought one that I'm using here. One can never own too many cellos, right?

I'll request leave for three weeks from now. Please let me know ASAP if your travel plans change.

I'm glad to hear from you, Dad. I'll see you in three weeks.

Love,

Kellian

"Computer, send message to Andrew Michaels, Brooklyn, New York, Earth, postal code 11201-5755."

Kellian flopped back down on his sofa. "A good day's work done," he muttered to himself. "Cello disaster averted."

 

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