Sariel
10-10-2009, 09:03 AM
Hey all, my first go at posting a short story here, hope you all enjoy it! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Oh, except negative feedback, just a hint of that stuff and my inferiority complex will come back in full force, i'll be weeping and tearing the stuffing out of my pillow with the lights out in no time. Anyway, enjoy!
THE PORCELAIN PLANET
by Sariel
Two musical notes reverberated up the plushly furbished hallway sending an ever so slight vibration coursing through the multitude of delicate porcelain figurines that were arranged so lovingly on the neat wooden shelves. Old Mrs. Kawalski let the silence grow thick before pulling herself out of her chintz armchair to answer the door, she figured if she answered too quickly people might doubt her status as ‘old and fragile’ and her pension would come under review. Infact by the time she navigated the densely packed hallway it had been a good 5 minutes since the doorbell had even rung. The fact then that when she opened the door and didn’t find the doorstep as emptyas the inside of all her beloved figurines, should have been a warning as to the seriousness of the situation at hand. The person waiting patiently on the doorstep in question was wearing a smart three piece pinstripe suit, with neatly combed hair beneath a charcoal black bowler hat and a thin wire moustache, He had a bright silver briefcase sitting loyally by his feet. If anything, he looked too formal, far more suited to the cool steel and green glass of the central business district than ringing old ladies doorbells in the outer suburbs of Fremantle.
“Hello?” Mrs. Kawalski said, looking the stranger up and down.
“Good afternoon, are you Mrs. Kawalski of 52 Gill street?” The man asked in a brisk, almost rushed manner, if it were not for his coolly kept appearance he would have appeared almost nervous.
“The very same. Are you from the drainage committee because I’ve written a reply and I’m intending to get the pipes fixed as soon as po-”
“No, I’m not from the drainage committee, I am here to talk to you about a situation of equal or greater importance than drains.”
The man didn’t elaborate but instead waited with heavy hesitance as though he had just asked a question. There was something subtlety odd about this man, his words came so quickly to him that Mrs. Kawalski had the distinct impression that they had been said many, many times before.
“Well, would you like to come in, then?” She asked stepping aside and holding the door open in gesture.
“That would be best,” said the stranger, stepping over the thresh-hold and leading the way down the cluttered hallway to the dining room. He sat himself around the circular dining table, placing his bright silver briefcase gingerly infront of him and laying his large hands across it.
“Tea?” Mrs. Kawalski called from the kitchen.
“Please. Two sugars no milk, thankyou.”
Mrs. Kawalski eyed him over the bench while she bustled with cups and the kettle. As she stretched to reach the sugar in the top cupboard she spotted him eyeing her star.
“Funny old thing isn’t it?” She said, making the man jump slightly.
“You’re certificate?” he asked indicating the framed piece of paper hanging on the wall.
“It isn’t just any old certificate, it states that I’m the rightful owner of my very own star you see. My grandson got it for me one year, he thought I must be sick of porcelain, here you are.” She said, placing the stranger’s tea in front of him (his briefcase now tucked between his legs.) Indeed the certificate did declare Mrs. Kawalski as the proprietor of her very own red giant. It was printed in friendly bubble type, with all the names written in thick block letters, including the name of the star: Planet Grandma.
“My son put it up on his telescope for me one night, the thing’s millions and millions of lightyears away. Of no practical use to anyone of course, porcelain on the other hand-“
“Mrs. Kawalski.” The man interrupted, placing his tea on the table with a soft clink “For how much will you be willing to sell your star?”
“My star? Sell it?”
“Yes, name your price.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t. I don’t think you understand, it’s just an old piece of paper. You can buy one yourself, they couldn’t be more than 10 dollars.”
“But I have an un-equivocal need for that particular star.” He said indicating the certificate on the wall again.
“What on earth? Why!”
“I can see that there is no other path to take than the truth. Mrs. Kawalski, I suggest you brace yourself. You see, despite appearances I am not from the current time period.”
“Well, neither am I,” Mrs. Kawalski added, chuckling.
“You mis-understand. I am from what you would consider the future, the distant future. A future where society has evolved beyond the boundaries of planet earth.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Kawalski said, taking a sip of tea.
“Indeed, Mrs. Kawalski, we have developed at an un-sustainable rate, in essence we have run out of fuel and without fuel we cannot function. We die. Humankind is already crippled, our population is below 0.001% of what it once was. Infact only 1 billion humans are left alive in the entire galaxy. All we need is a kick start, to help us rebuild, a sustainable society so that we may persevere. However, every possible resource has been drained…except one.”
“Planet Grandma?” Mrs. Kawalski whispered.
“Planet Grandma.” The stranger echoed in concurrence.
“But that’s crazy?” Mrs. Kawalski finally said, “If the situation is so dire then why does it matter whether the star is my property or not?”
“I should explain.” The stranger muttered, tenting his fingers threateningly, “One of the largest decisions made by humankind in the near future is that the possibility of human error must be eradicated, there is no place for law-breakers in a perfect society. However, as long as humans exist, laws will be broken. The only foreseen way to overcome this was to entrust laws with machines. The computers upon which we built our ‘perfect’ society. The computers ensured that it was impossible to break any law, no matter how pedantic,” he said this venomously, eyeing the certificate, “We cannot break the law as much as you can break the laws of physics. It was a mistake to entrust ourselves to machines, they will have no place in the new world. If-” He added, his eyes piercing through Mrs. Kawalski, “You give us the ability to create it.”
There was a long silence after this. Mrs. Kawalski sat pensively, then finished her tea. Looking directly at the stranger, whom she only now realized she had never asked the name of, she stood and walked over to the wall. Carefully she unhooked the certificate of ownership, then returned to her seat and sat back down. Where she sat looking at it. The silence obviously went on a little too long because soon the stranger said, “You will be paid of course.” With this he placed the silver briefcase infront of him and opened it with a flourish, then spun it to face Mrs. Kawalski.
“100 million dollars,” The stranger said, indicating the fresh smelling notes.
“100 million? Oh heavens, I’d never have time to spend it all! And there’s nothing I hate more than spoiled grandchildren.” Mrs Kawalski said, “Haven’t you anything else?”
“Something…else?” The stranger said, his face falling.
“Yes, I don’t think you could be concealing any porcelain in those pockets, now could you, and to think it would be smashed to bits if you were! What about that?” Mrs Kawalski pointed to a large wad of very worn papers in a manilla folder sticking out of a pocket in the lid of the briefcase.
“Those? Well…they’re reports.”
“On what?”
“Well, on you, you’re family. The world of 2000-2050. You underestimate the incredible importance of this engagement. We had to do our research before we came of course.”
“Really. About me and my family? Well that would consist of our futures as well I suppose wouldn’t it?” Mrs. Kawalski asked, raising a cunning eye-brow.
“Yes, but- I couldn’t even dream of- the risk I would be running of an entire temporal-.”
“Do you want to start your new society or not?” Mrs. Kawalski said interrupting him.
She held the framed certificate tantalizingly in front of him. He eyed the certificate, then the reports, then the certificate again, until finally he slowly reached down and pulled out the thick wad off papers. With his face screwed up in an expression of deepest ‘I shouldn’t be doing this’ he slowly extended the folder out to Mrs. Kawalski, who snatched it with surprising agility. Startled, the stranger quickly grabbed the certificate. Both people sat at either side of the table eyeing their prize. Quickly enough, The stranger stowed the certificate under his arm and stood up.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Mrs. Kawalski said happily.
“Yes, at least we have saved the future of humankind as we know it.” The stranger muttered with pursed lips, still staring at the wad of papers in the old woman’s hands, “Goodbye, then.” He said moving towards the door.
“But wait! You’re briefcase.” Mrs. Kawalski indicated the rejected banknotes and their case still sitting on the dining table.
“Oh no, I can’t take it with me anyway. We didn’t factor that in when planning the return journey. Funnily enough none of our hypothetical situations involved you not taking the money. It will have to stay here, even if you do not intend to spend it. Good day.” He said, bowing his way out of the dining room.
Mrs. Kawalski listened to the indignant rattle of the porcelain in the hall as he passed and called after him “Give my love to the new world!”
Later, as Mrs. Kawalski emptied the 100 million dollars in cash down the old well in her backyard her thoughts went back to the manilla envelope still sitting on her dining table. How lucky she was to have the next 50 years down on paper, just waiting for her. Finally, she would be able to find out what will happen to her porcelain collection when she dies.
THE PORCELAIN PLANET
by Sariel
Two musical notes reverberated up the plushly furbished hallway sending an ever so slight vibration coursing through the multitude of delicate porcelain figurines that were arranged so lovingly on the neat wooden shelves. Old Mrs. Kawalski let the silence grow thick before pulling herself out of her chintz armchair to answer the door, she figured if she answered too quickly people might doubt her status as ‘old and fragile’ and her pension would come under review. Infact by the time she navigated the densely packed hallway it had been a good 5 minutes since the doorbell had even rung. The fact then that when she opened the door and didn’t find the doorstep as emptyas the inside of all her beloved figurines, should have been a warning as to the seriousness of the situation at hand. The person waiting patiently on the doorstep in question was wearing a smart three piece pinstripe suit, with neatly combed hair beneath a charcoal black bowler hat and a thin wire moustache, He had a bright silver briefcase sitting loyally by his feet. If anything, he looked too formal, far more suited to the cool steel and green glass of the central business district than ringing old ladies doorbells in the outer suburbs of Fremantle.
“Hello?” Mrs. Kawalski said, looking the stranger up and down.
“Good afternoon, are you Mrs. Kawalski of 52 Gill street?” The man asked in a brisk, almost rushed manner, if it were not for his coolly kept appearance he would have appeared almost nervous.
“The very same. Are you from the drainage committee because I’ve written a reply and I’m intending to get the pipes fixed as soon as po-”
“No, I’m not from the drainage committee, I am here to talk to you about a situation of equal or greater importance than drains.”
The man didn’t elaborate but instead waited with heavy hesitance as though he had just asked a question. There was something subtlety odd about this man, his words came so quickly to him that Mrs. Kawalski had the distinct impression that they had been said many, many times before.
“Well, would you like to come in, then?” She asked stepping aside and holding the door open in gesture.
“That would be best,” said the stranger, stepping over the thresh-hold and leading the way down the cluttered hallway to the dining room. He sat himself around the circular dining table, placing his bright silver briefcase gingerly infront of him and laying his large hands across it.
“Tea?” Mrs. Kawalski called from the kitchen.
“Please. Two sugars no milk, thankyou.”
Mrs. Kawalski eyed him over the bench while she bustled with cups and the kettle. As she stretched to reach the sugar in the top cupboard she spotted him eyeing her star.
“Funny old thing isn’t it?” She said, making the man jump slightly.
“You’re certificate?” he asked indicating the framed piece of paper hanging on the wall.
“It isn’t just any old certificate, it states that I’m the rightful owner of my very own star you see. My grandson got it for me one year, he thought I must be sick of porcelain, here you are.” She said, placing the stranger’s tea in front of him (his briefcase now tucked between his legs.) Indeed the certificate did declare Mrs. Kawalski as the proprietor of her very own red giant. It was printed in friendly bubble type, with all the names written in thick block letters, including the name of the star: Planet Grandma.
“My son put it up on his telescope for me one night, the thing’s millions and millions of lightyears away. Of no practical use to anyone of course, porcelain on the other hand-“
“Mrs. Kawalski.” The man interrupted, placing his tea on the table with a soft clink “For how much will you be willing to sell your star?”
“My star? Sell it?”
“Yes, name your price.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t. I don’t think you understand, it’s just an old piece of paper. You can buy one yourself, they couldn’t be more than 10 dollars.”
“But I have an un-equivocal need for that particular star.” He said indicating the certificate on the wall again.
“What on earth? Why!”
“I can see that there is no other path to take than the truth. Mrs. Kawalski, I suggest you brace yourself. You see, despite appearances I am not from the current time period.”
“Well, neither am I,” Mrs. Kawalski added, chuckling.
“You mis-understand. I am from what you would consider the future, the distant future. A future where society has evolved beyond the boundaries of planet earth.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Kawalski said, taking a sip of tea.
“Indeed, Mrs. Kawalski, we have developed at an un-sustainable rate, in essence we have run out of fuel and without fuel we cannot function. We die. Humankind is already crippled, our population is below 0.001% of what it once was. Infact only 1 billion humans are left alive in the entire galaxy. All we need is a kick start, to help us rebuild, a sustainable society so that we may persevere. However, every possible resource has been drained…except one.”
“Planet Grandma?” Mrs. Kawalski whispered.
“Planet Grandma.” The stranger echoed in concurrence.
“But that’s crazy?” Mrs. Kawalski finally said, “If the situation is so dire then why does it matter whether the star is my property or not?”
“I should explain.” The stranger muttered, tenting his fingers threateningly, “One of the largest decisions made by humankind in the near future is that the possibility of human error must be eradicated, there is no place for law-breakers in a perfect society. However, as long as humans exist, laws will be broken. The only foreseen way to overcome this was to entrust laws with machines. The computers upon which we built our ‘perfect’ society. The computers ensured that it was impossible to break any law, no matter how pedantic,” he said this venomously, eyeing the certificate, “We cannot break the law as much as you can break the laws of physics. It was a mistake to entrust ourselves to machines, they will have no place in the new world. If-” He added, his eyes piercing through Mrs. Kawalski, “You give us the ability to create it.”
There was a long silence after this. Mrs. Kawalski sat pensively, then finished her tea. Looking directly at the stranger, whom she only now realized she had never asked the name of, she stood and walked over to the wall. Carefully she unhooked the certificate of ownership, then returned to her seat and sat back down. Where she sat looking at it. The silence obviously went on a little too long because soon the stranger said, “You will be paid of course.” With this he placed the silver briefcase infront of him and opened it with a flourish, then spun it to face Mrs. Kawalski.
“100 million dollars,” The stranger said, indicating the fresh smelling notes.
“100 million? Oh heavens, I’d never have time to spend it all! And there’s nothing I hate more than spoiled grandchildren.” Mrs Kawalski said, “Haven’t you anything else?”
“Something…else?” The stranger said, his face falling.
“Yes, I don’t think you could be concealing any porcelain in those pockets, now could you, and to think it would be smashed to bits if you were! What about that?” Mrs Kawalski pointed to a large wad of very worn papers in a manilla folder sticking out of a pocket in the lid of the briefcase.
“Those? Well…they’re reports.”
“On what?”
“Well, on you, you’re family. The world of 2000-2050. You underestimate the incredible importance of this engagement. We had to do our research before we came of course.”
“Really. About me and my family? Well that would consist of our futures as well I suppose wouldn’t it?” Mrs. Kawalski asked, raising a cunning eye-brow.
“Yes, but- I couldn’t even dream of- the risk I would be running of an entire temporal-.”
“Do you want to start your new society or not?” Mrs. Kawalski said interrupting him.
She held the framed certificate tantalizingly in front of him. He eyed the certificate, then the reports, then the certificate again, until finally he slowly reached down and pulled out the thick wad off papers. With his face screwed up in an expression of deepest ‘I shouldn’t be doing this’ he slowly extended the folder out to Mrs. Kawalski, who snatched it with surprising agility. Startled, the stranger quickly grabbed the certificate. Both people sat at either side of the table eyeing their prize. Quickly enough, The stranger stowed the certificate under his arm and stood up.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Mrs. Kawalski said happily.
“Yes, at least we have saved the future of humankind as we know it.” The stranger muttered with pursed lips, still staring at the wad of papers in the old woman’s hands, “Goodbye, then.” He said moving towards the door.
“But wait! You’re briefcase.” Mrs. Kawalski indicated the rejected banknotes and their case still sitting on the dining table.
“Oh no, I can’t take it with me anyway. We didn’t factor that in when planning the return journey. Funnily enough none of our hypothetical situations involved you not taking the money. It will have to stay here, even if you do not intend to spend it. Good day.” He said, bowing his way out of the dining room.
Mrs. Kawalski listened to the indignant rattle of the porcelain in the hall as he passed and called after him “Give my love to the new world!”
Later, as Mrs. Kawalski emptied the 100 million dollars in cash down the old well in her backyard her thoughts went back to the manilla envelope still sitting on her dining table. How lucky she was to have the next 50 years down on paper, just waiting for her. Finally, she would be able to find out what will happen to her porcelain collection when she dies.