Granddame Elery

Posted on Fri 26th Jun, 2020 @ 3:44pm by Yuliette Marayan Dr.
Edited on on Fri 24th Jul, 2020 @ 6:43am

793 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Brown Sector: Zodiac
Timeline: MD11

The kitchen had a big open doorway. Inside were all sorts of pots and pans, herbs hung to dry, cooking utensils. A big composite oiled wooden block served for a countertop. Three young adults were washing dishes and hassling one another. Siblings or cousins, by the looks of them.
The kitchen had handwoven curtains on the other side, loosely pulled back to allow passage to the balcony, an entire grand suite balcony which had a long, narrow family dining table. Two more preteens were sweeping and collecting dishes after the family meal, and at the head of the long table was an elderly Orion woman in a wheelchair who had lit her evening pipe and was keening her ear towards the sounds of the shopkeeper’s dulcimer below.

Yuliette took off her sunglasses and let her eyes adjust.

“A gypsy cap.” The woman said.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’d have jangles and colors and tassels.”

“Oh. Uh, why a gypsy cap?”

The woman gave Yuliette a devilish grin. “So I could travel on the head of a strapping young gypsy man, of course.”

Yuliette smiled back. “Of course.”

Elery drew long on the pipe and relaxed her bony arms as she exhaled. Yuliette could tell she suffered from something that was wasting at her muscles. And that she’d likely had it for many many years.

“Are you here for the blessing of stardust?”

“What?”

“For your late husband.”

“No. I’m not a widow.”

“Then don’t wear the cowl.” Elery snapped.

Keenly aware that she’d just insulted some important tradition in Elery’s family, Yuliette unwrapped her shawl from her head and folded it. She’d need a different color headdress if she was going to hide under it.

“Are you ashamed?”

“Of what?”

“Your face.”

Yuliette was careful with her wording. “Some believe I should be.”

“You want to chop off your head for them? I’ve a saw.”

“I’m here about some seeds.”

“Ooh,” The Orion lady’s eyes lit up in their bony sockets. “What have you brought me?”

Yuliette produced the little sachets of seeds from her desert clients. “I heard you had the equipment to grade them for me. I assume there’s a service fee for that.”

“You’re astuter than a fruit.” Yuliette wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult. But Elery started shouting some kind of mixed standard and what sounded like klingon. One of the kids in the kitchen brought out a device the size of a cinder-block but with a lot more technical dials and switches and readouts than any cinder-block around. The kid took a big stack of paper cards and opened a door to load them inside. The machine hummed as it warmed up.

“Go on, pour them into the hopper. Up there.” Elery had to use both shaking hands to point, one extending pipe, the other to steady her wrist. Yuliette opened one of the little bags. The seeds were as small as sand in this one.

The machine started displaying information on species and viability and other details. A display of market analysis generated on another face. It made a big fuss inside and from a slot started shuffling out small cards like a vomiting robot. Each card was coated with a vacuum seal, enveloping a certain measure of seeds onto a backing that was a certificate with Elery’s name on them. There were fly specks of details that would have to be read with a jeweler's loop. Most helpfully to Yuliette, they had a suggested trading value printed in fractional GPL units at the very end of each narrow card, and an expiration date with a series of dates suggested devaluation over time with probability of lower germination rates. The money would spoil eventually.

Yuliette poured another bunch of seeds into the hopper and the machine carried on.

“My my my.” Elery toned while aiming her pipe back for her lips with her shaky hands. “My my my.” She puffed some smoke. “You’re a rich girl, are you?”

Yuliette looked at the fractional amounts on the cards and did some quick math. Maybe it would serve her for a while. But it was hardly riches. She’d had weekly allowances bigger than that as a kid. Her mother had bought her dresses that cost that much just for the form flattering alterations. Which was no small feat, her mother consistently reminded her, what with Yuliette’s tiny bodice; she’d never attract money without some much needed elective surgery.

Yuliette poured in a third little bag of seeds. The machine liked these ones very much and the fractional value amount went up. “I think I’m doing alright.”

 

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