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dragonlady7via https://ift.tt/2rjvW6i
Coworker is not here today, had to stay home to let a plumber in to work on his house.
I’m like: well, unsupervised, I should get up to some shenanigans
but in real life all it means is that I worked slightly harder and answered the phone more. I mean. There’s never really any supervision in this job, I just have to do the best I can.
I did spend a little time writing though, while I was waiting for the damn cash register system as usual this morning, and I am nearly through the worldbuilding self-discovery snippets for the solarpunk mammoths novel and just got to a part that might be plot-related.
And like. I had kind of outlined that the instigating factor would be one thing, and a major character’s motivation would be a secondary thing, but…
could I actually hang the premise on the novel on the motivating factor of a particular character really wanting to travel to a different location solely to get laid???
That’s a reasonable character motivation if the character in question is a five-ton genetically-engineered superintelligent pachyderm, right??
Like, sure, the radios are down and the pigeons are getting lost because of solar flares but instead of sending a rider to the city with a message we can just bring a mammoth there because she needs to get very specifically laid, ok?
… Maybe that’s not the direction I’m gonna take this, though.
In other news, I came up with a name for the one character’s mother just because I figured she ought to have one, and then I realized if I wrote a worldbuilding snippet about her I’d know a lot about the third major demographic in this society, and then I decided I like her the best of anybody, so maybe this novel is about her now instead.
“That smells great,” Griga said from the vestibule, struggling with his boots.
“Can you get the plates on the table?” Sani asked him. Harko came in after him and went without a word to fill the water pitcher. Yorik came over and sniffed at the tea pot.
“This done?” he asked.
“Couple more minutes,” Istaso said. “Agh, you’re all mud, Yorik, go shake those trousers off in the vestibule.”
Yorik looked down in dismay, and went back outside. He’d clearly been operating one of the machines. After a moment he came back in, in his undershorts. “No saving it,” he said. “I’ll sit in the corner else I’ll make a mess.”
“Here,” Istaso said, laughing, and gave him her apron so he’d have at least a little modesty. He laughed too, but put it on. “How’s Alkatia?” she asked him, as he tied the strings.
“She’s not here?” he asked, looking around.
“Oh,” Istaso said, and turned to look at Sani. “Is Alkatia here?”
“I sent her to lie down,” Sani said. “She was so tired. She’s probably in the other room.”
Istaso made her way down the hallway to the sitting room. This was the gathering house, with the big kitchen and the big room for everyone to eat, and the other gathering rooms on the first floor, and the upstairs was all dormitories for the unmarried people in the settlement. The sitting room was a comfortable small space for people to meet or take leisure, and it had some big comfortable chairs that several people could sit or lie on. Sure enough, Alkatia was lying on one of them, propped up for comfort and with one of the household cats drowsing on her big, gravid belly.
“There you are, dear,” Istaso said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m ready for this baby to be done,” Alkatia said.
“Your husband was so filthy I made him leave his pants outside,” Istaso said. “Will you come laugh at him?”
“Of course,” Alkatia said.
Istaso got Alkatia settled at the table, and Yorik took over being solicitous of her, doing a saucy little turn in the apron to amuse her and everyone else, and then occupying himself tending to her whims. She was due any day now, and as it was her first child, Istaso had already sent for the midwife from the settlement down the road. They’d discussed this previously, and had arranged to speak by radio as the date approached, but the radio here hadn’t worked now for weeks, and Istaso had sent a bird message instead. She hadn’t gotten a reply, though, and she was worried. The last thing she wanted was to have to send one of the boys on horseback down there. But she might have to, and if she waited until Alkatia was in labor, it might be too late.
Alik, she thought, and it was a strange, strong feeling: We need you to fix this.
She composed herself to strain the tea and ready it for serving, reflecting on that. Was it her own mind, thinking that way? Her oldest child; she wasn’t so silly as to have a favorite, but he’d been gone for so long and she’d spent so long missing him. Was it her own mind, or was it the ancestors, demanding he come demonstrate piety? Would they punish him, if he did not?
She should go and visit him, but she had no other business in the city, and there was no time for it. She resolved instead to send to him, again, when the meal was over, as everyone went back out to resume their work– and Alkatia went back to lie down where Griga, who was minding the house for the afternoon and preparing the evening meal, could keep tabs on her.
Yorik hesitated, as if he wanted to offer to trade places with Griga. But he’d been inside with Alkatia the previous morning, and today he was working with one of the fussier machines that he was most adept with, and it didn’t make sense to swap, especially since he’d soon be unavailable to work because he’d have a new baby to care for. But it was his first child, too, and he was a doting husband to Alkatia. It stood to reason he’d be worried.
“She’s all right,” Istaso said to him, quietly, as he stood shaking out his still-muddy pants in the entryway. “I don’t think it will be today. I’m going to send to Halia again, though, now; I have another message to send so I’m going out there anyway.”
He nodded, and relaxed enough to laugh as he gave her back her apron, which she joked about having to boil to clean it now.
She put her boots back on, and her apron (Yorik was really no filthier than she herself was), and went to the dovecote next to the ancestor shrine.
Things I need to research, besides elephants:
1) cultures with ancestor reverence traditions, to make sure I don’t miss anything
2) the effects of solar flares on radios and pigeons, and how one could shield a radio against such things perhaps
3) what electronic engineers actually do all day and how that works
Well it’s a doable list, really. But I gotta go look busy at the dayjob again. Unsupervised doesn’t mean unobserved.
(Your picture was not posted)
Coworker is not here today, had to stay home to let a plumber in to work on his house.
I’m like: well, unsupervised, I should get up to some shenanigans
but in real life all it means is that I worked slightly harder and answered the phone more. I mean. There’s never really any supervision in this job, I just have to do the best I can.
I did spend a little time writing though, while I was waiting for the damn cash register system as usual this morning, and I am nearly through the worldbuilding self-discovery snippets for the solarpunk mammoths novel and just got to a part that might be plot-related.
And like. I had kind of outlined that the instigating factor would be one thing, and a major character’s motivation would be a secondary thing, but…
could I actually hang the premise on the novel on the motivating factor of a particular character really wanting to travel to a different location solely to get laid???
That’s a reasonable character motivation if the character in question is a five-ton genetically-engineered superintelligent pachyderm, right??
Like, sure, the radios are down and the pigeons are getting lost because of solar flares but instead of sending a rider to the city with a message we can just bring a mammoth there because she needs to get very specifically laid, ok?
… Maybe that’s not the direction I’m gonna take this, though.
In other news, I came up with a name for the one character’s mother just because I figured she ought to have one, and then I realized if I wrote a worldbuilding snippet about her I’d know a lot about the third major demographic in this society, and then I decided I like her the best of anybody, so maybe this novel is about her now instead.
“That smells great,” Griga said from the vestibule, struggling with his boots.
“Can you get the plates on the table?” Sani asked him. Harko came in after him and went without a word to fill the water pitcher. Yorik came over and sniffed at the tea pot.
“This done?” he asked.
“Couple more minutes,” Istaso said. “Agh, you’re all mud, Yorik, go shake those trousers off in the vestibule.”
Yorik looked down in dismay, and went back outside. He’d clearly been operating one of the machines. After a moment he came back in, in his undershorts. “No saving it,” he said. “I’ll sit in the corner else I’ll make a mess.”
“Here,” Istaso said, laughing, and gave him her apron so he’d have at least a little modesty. He laughed too, but put it on. “How’s Alkatia?” she asked him, as he tied the strings.
“She’s not here?” he asked, looking around.
“Oh,” Istaso said, and turned to look at Sani. “Is Alkatia here?”
“I sent her to lie down,” Sani said. “She was so tired. She’s probably in the other room.”
Istaso made her way down the hallway to the sitting room. This was the gathering house, with the big kitchen and the big room for everyone to eat, and the other gathering rooms on the first floor, and the upstairs was all dormitories for the unmarried people in the settlement. The sitting room was a comfortable small space for people to meet or take leisure, and it had some big comfortable chairs that several people could sit or lie on. Sure enough, Alkatia was lying on one of them, propped up for comfort and with one of the household cats drowsing on her big, gravid belly.
“There you are, dear,” Istaso said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m ready for this baby to be done,” Alkatia said.
“Your husband was so filthy I made him leave his pants outside,” Istaso said. “Will you come laugh at him?”
“Of course,” Alkatia said.
Istaso got Alkatia settled at the table, and Yorik took over being solicitous of her, doing a saucy little turn in the apron to amuse her and everyone else, and then occupying himself tending to her whims. She was due any day now, and as it was her first child, Istaso had already sent for the midwife from the settlement down the road. They’d discussed this previously, and had arranged to speak by radio as the date approached, but the radio here hadn’t worked now for weeks, and Istaso had sent a bird message instead. She hadn’t gotten a reply, though, and she was worried. The last thing she wanted was to have to send one of the boys on horseback down there. But she might have to, and if she waited until Alkatia was in labor, it might be too late.
Alik, she thought, and it was a strange, strong feeling: We need you to fix this.
She composed herself to strain the tea and ready it for serving, reflecting on that. Was it her own mind, thinking that way? Her oldest child; she wasn’t so silly as to have a favorite, but he’d been gone for so long and she’d spent so long missing him. Was it her own mind, or was it the ancestors, demanding he come demonstrate piety? Would they punish him, if he did not?
She should go and visit him, but she had no other business in the city, and there was no time for it. She resolved instead to send to him, again, when the meal was over, as everyone went back out to resume their work– and Alkatia went back to lie down where Griga, who was minding the house for the afternoon and preparing the evening meal, could keep tabs on her.
Yorik hesitated, as if he wanted to offer to trade places with Griga. But he’d been inside with Alkatia the previous morning, and today he was working with one of the fussier machines that he was most adept with, and it didn’t make sense to swap, especially since he’d soon be unavailable to work because he’d have a new baby to care for. But it was his first child, too, and he was a doting husband to Alkatia. It stood to reason he’d be worried.
“She’s all right,” Istaso said to him, quietly, as he stood shaking out his still-muddy pants in the entryway. “I don’t think it will be today. I’m going to send to Halia again, though, now; I have another message to send so I’m going out there anyway.”
He nodded, and relaxed enough to laugh as he gave her back her apron, which she joked about having to boil to clean it now.
She put her boots back on, and her apron (Yorik was really no filthier than she herself was), and went to the dovecote next to the ancestor shrine.
Things I need to research, besides elephants:
1) cultures with ancestor reverence traditions, to make sure I don’t miss anything
2) the effects of solar flares on radios and pigeons, and how one could shield a radio against such things perhaps
3) what electronic engineers actually do all day and how that works
Well it’s a doable list, really. But I gotta go look busy at the dayjob again. Unsupervised doesn’t mean unobserved.
(Your picture was not posted)
