Selling Coral Sugar

“I can really make my own coral sugar with this?”

“Just the juice. Not the crystals,” Charming said. “Well, you could make some crystals, but not enough at a time from a bulb this size, and it would probably kill the coral.”

“Probably?”

None of this touri man’s questions were unfamiliar to Charming—she’d been asked all of them each day, every day, she put up her stall in Song’s pier market—but his insistence was so focused, so penetrating, she thought of her school exit interview. And not fondly.

“These bulbs are designed for decorating your kitchen and making enough juice for your coffee or tea or whatever. If you’re looking for the crystals I’d recommend ordering from Jack Ree’s here on Song or Phanee’s Sugar Works on the shore. They’re both on the net.” Charming gestured to the back table where her pad lay. “Now, I don’t know what Phanee’s charges for shipping, but Jack reminds me every day to tell people he doesn’t charge extra to send it to shore.”

The man continued to listen and smile at her like she was still speaking. Maybe he was considering what she’d just said. Maybe he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“And, yes. It would definitely kill the coral.”

“I don’t want that.”

Charming laughed lightly. “And I don’t either. That’s part of why we’re so accurate to infuse these bulbs with the right indicator colors.”

“When the rim turns clear, rinse and fill to the mark with distilled water. When it turns dark again, add five grams of sea salt?”

“Yes. Exactly.” The salesperson in her wanted to add a compliment on how quickly he’d learned the instructions to keep the coral alive and producing sugar, but she didn’t want to insult him.

“You said, ‘We.’ Do you make the glass bulbs too?”

“I can and I have, but my Daddy’s much better and faster than I am. I’m still no good at syncing them.”

“Your father’s had lots of practice,” he said. Then added quickly: “I imagine.”

Charming opened her mouth to respond, but didn’t.

“Do you have a synced set in green or maybe dark green?”

“I have this green here.” She laid her hand over a bulb of coral to the left of where they were speaking. “And I have a darker one back at my place I could get after lunch.”

“Excellent. No rush. I assume you can hold both for me? It will be a couple days before I leave.”

“Really? A couple days?”

“Why? Is that odd?” It was odd. Touris rarely spent more than a night on Song since the shore had better accommodations.

“Since you haven’t paid yet, I’ll just say it’s unusual to hear.”

He chuckled and handed her 16 bright yellow bills. “And now?”

Charming took the payment and set the two green-rimmed coral bulbs on the back table. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s odd.”

“Well, Miss Venda, I’ll keep that in mind for next time I visit Song.” It wasn’t until after he’d gone that Charming began wondering if she’d introduced herself by name to the man.

519 words on day 776

Trunktop

http://acreativeuniverse.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/error888.tumblr.com-post-714725217.jpg

Napsil stepped to the edge of the deck and peered down into the fog surrounding the trunk. Other trees—their trunks the color red becomes at night—rose from the mist below then disappeared back into it above him. Unable to focus in the clouds like this, he imagined himself floating in the sky rather than standing atop his tree-tower. Surely all he need do was to close his eyes and he’d drift away like any other atomized droplet. Vapor didn’t matter.

“We can’t do this any longer and you need to come tell the others,” said Napsil’s brother, Jate. Napsil’s eyes remained closed.

“You lead them.”

“No. That’s you, brother.”

Napsil tipped his face toward where the sun might be above them. He felt the mist coalesce on his forehead and a single drop run down his scalp through his short red hair. He brushed back his responsibility with a languid wave of his hand. “Lead them from here on. Lead them away. Lead them back. I don’t care. Neither do they.”

171 words on day 775

Ian’s Fleet

A fleet. Ian’s unveiling a fleet, and I don’t know how to keep up with that. I like that it raises the stakes though. The trouble is that a fleet requires an opposition, and he’s not drawn anything like an opposition yet. Which I suppose gives me the freedom to create one for him—for me at least.

You have a fleet because someone else has a fleet. More accurately, you grow a fleet as your opposition grows their own. Or I suppose you grow a fleet to protect something large in anticipation that others would take it from your control. Stockpiling warships is a symptom of paranoia and planning. Insurance. It depletes a reserve of materials, time, money, and personnel which could have been invested elsewhere building commerce or peace or art.

Maybe the natives of Terminus have a bit more power than I’d first imagined they did. What kind of power might that be? They could control similar ships. They could post a biological fleet of some sort with animals like the honga or maybe nothing so huge, but just numerous.

My thoughts keep drifting to the planet excuse for answering this question of opposition. If I put these guys on a planet in a Star Wars-like universe I could just make this resource of flying material like spice on Dune or some such thing. Make these guys on Terminus the miners of the resource which powers all the hovercraft and speeders in the universe. I think this is the influence of Firefly on my thinking these days.

259 words on day 772