Post by Jenos Holo on Aug 30, 2009 23:08:03 GMT -6
Jenos Holo woke in his usual manner when the sun came over the edge of the ice fields and straight into his room. The sun was a better alarm than any sound one, and after a few minutes of it, his eyes cracked open and he stared up at the ceiling. The vast white expanse stared back at him. The last wisps of dreams evaporated as he sat up and he couldn't remember what the dream had been about, only that it had been hot as blazes.
The old man went about his morning ritual, shuffling to the washroom that was conveniently (but not coincidently) beside his room. There was no one else here, no hunters, no Grace, and he had no compilation. Holo did his business, took his morning pills, and shaved with a razor. It was a lovely thing. The handle was made of carved mammoth tusk, purest ivory that he'd ever seen in his long life. There was a local who made them. Grace had gotten it for him when he turned 78. Hell of a good gift. Hell of a good girl. He took his time and drove back the slight stubble that had built through the day and night. There wasn't anyone to see him if he grew an ugly beard out here, but he didn't feel right if he didn't peel off the white hairs coming through.
Face feeling cool and smooth as it ever got these days, Holo headed to the kitchen. He ate a small breakfast, just some toast and coffee. Under a noise fan, he smoked and read the news. There was no sound but the quiet clicking noise as he scrolled through the news, and a brief coughing fit as he finished his smoke. It wasn't bad, not yet, and anyway it didn't matter. He was old. Who the hell cared what his body did as long as it still woke him up in the morning and let him get up and down the stairs without needing a cane.
He did have a cane. It was nice as far as canes went, but he growled a little every time he had to use it to get up to the observation deck, or down the stairs. Grace hadn't given him that one. It had just turned up one day, and both Grace and Klove made themselves busy looking innocent. He'd 'accidentally' forgotten Klove was in the basement and locked him down there, and left eggshell in Grace's eggs. The message had been sent and received, but the cane remained and Holo grudgingly used it occasionally.
Today wasn't one of those days. His legs felt good as he headed down the stairs. Holo got the pole leaning against the wall, the one with the sharp steel hook on the end, and smashed the thin layer of ice forming on the fishing hole. With that broken and gone, he took a look down into it. He could see a school of fish going by, silver fins flashing in the light of the basement. He set up a fishing line and secured the reel, then went to take a look at the storage. All the rooms were fine, as secure as always and all keeping the proper temperature. The ones opening up onto bare ice were filled with meat, freshly butchered Tuesday.
There was a sound, like a bell ringing. Holo hurried back over. The pole's tip dipped a little, making the same electronic sound. Hold took it out of the holder and started reeling the line in. The fish fought, but it was no match. That hook was in deep. And up it came, until it finally emerged into the air, tail flipping this way and that way as it tried to dislodge itself. Holo brought it over to the block, grabbed onto the club lying beside and gave the fish a few good smacks. When it was clear it wouldnt' be moving anymore, he got the hook out of the fish's mouth and headed back upstairs, taking his new prize with him.
Holo had never fished before coming to Glacies. He sure as hell hadn't ever cleaned a fish. When he bought fish, it came breaded. So, in a strange inversion of things, it had been Klove who had caught Holo how to clean a fish. Holo knew it by heart now. Most days he had fresh fish for dinner, or seal, or mammoth. And most of it he caught for himself. He didn't have to. Holo could have eaten out every night of the week and still had money left. He hadn't retired a poor man by any standards. But if he'd wanted to eat out every day, he could have stayed in the Inbetween in that box of an apartment, watching the soaps like some old biddy.
He put the cleaned fish in the fridge for dinner and the rest went into the small portable incinerator. Holo could remember a time before they were banned on Terra. You could burn as much as you wanted on Glacies, there just weren't enough people to make it worth banning.
Dinner done and the stock checked, Holo made his way to the cloakroom and got dressed in his gear. It went snowpants, boots, underjacket, overjacket, gloves, facemask, snow goggles, scarf and cap. It was an ordeal and a half to dress himself in so many layers, but when you were alone, it was better to be safe and look stupid than to freeze to death outside and prove you're an idiot. He hit the button on the door, and cool air slowly streamed in, getting him used to the sub-zero temperatures outside. When they were the same outside and in, the door opened and Holo stepped out.
Terra had never been like this, not even as far back as his memory went. He remembered playing in a park as a child, but even that had been on top of a building, or maybe inside of one. The details were a bit fuzzy. But never had there been so much unbroken space. You could see for miles and miles, the planet just curving away before you eyes could reach the distance. The mountains were not too far away, dominating the landscape in the other direction. He couldn't see the spaceport, but he knew it was directly dead ahead, about half an hour or more by snowmobile. He went there rarely, usually when Grace and Klove were around and wanted him to tag along to get him new clothes or whatever else had taken their fancy.
He trudged along the outside of the building, checking for damage as he did every morning. Nothing new to be found this morning. Just the usual tracks of animals. It was still good to be outside and taste the cold fresh air. He stopped on the other end of the building, looking at the mountains. He vaguely remembered reading about mountains on earth, once. They'd carved them down, filled the valleys and parts of the oceans with the dirt and built more city on it, until there wasn't any mountain left, just flat plains and filthy water. The history books had taken that out at some point, when some leader didn't like the implications too much. Holo figured there had to be a few people out there like him who still remembered it before it was rewritten, but what did it matter? The mountains were gone, the men who rewrote the books were dead, and nobody cared one way or another. The truth of something only mattered if that truth directly affected you, and that was nobody these days.
Looking done, he headed back inside. It was the same as going out, waiting for the warm air, stripping off his clothes and hanging them up, and finally being let in as the air reached equilibrium. One of these days, it wasn't going to work. Luckily, there was a manual override, and he could always go in the back way.
Holo checked the time, and grumbled to himself as he saw it was only nine am. He headed into the living room and put on a movie, since there wasn't much else to do. Holo picked an old one, a western from when he was young. He tried to remember the actor's name to no avail, but then it appeared right in the opening credits. Reynolds. That was right. Good man. Holo had wanted to be him when he grew. Then he grew up and became something completely different. He didn't feel it was a bad choice. Smuggling had been a good life. What did kids know anyway?
Ten minutes in, and he was sound asleep. No one heard his rattling snores, except maybe a seal or two.
The old man went about his morning ritual, shuffling to the washroom that was conveniently (but not coincidently) beside his room. There was no one else here, no hunters, no Grace, and he had no compilation. Holo did his business, took his morning pills, and shaved with a razor. It was a lovely thing. The handle was made of carved mammoth tusk, purest ivory that he'd ever seen in his long life. There was a local who made them. Grace had gotten it for him when he turned 78. Hell of a good gift. Hell of a good girl. He took his time and drove back the slight stubble that had built through the day and night. There wasn't anyone to see him if he grew an ugly beard out here, but he didn't feel right if he didn't peel off the white hairs coming through.
Face feeling cool and smooth as it ever got these days, Holo headed to the kitchen. He ate a small breakfast, just some toast and coffee. Under a noise fan, he smoked and read the news. There was no sound but the quiet clicking noise as he scrolled through the news, and a brief coughing fit as he finished his smoke. It wasn't bad, not yet, and anyway it didn't matter. He was old. Who the hell cared what his body did as long as it still woke him up in the morning and let him get up and down the stairs without needing a cane.
He did have a cane. It was nice as far as canes went, but he growled a little every time he had to use it to get up to the observation deck, or down the stairs. Grace hadn't given him that one. It had just turned up one day, and both Grace and Klove made themselves busy looking innocent. He'd 'accidentally' forgotten Klove was in the basement and locked him down there, and left eggshell in Grace's eggs. The message had been sent and received, but the cane remained and Holo grudgingly used it occasionally.
Today wasn't one of those days. His legs felt good as he headed down the stairs. Holo got the pole leaning against the wall, the one with the sharp steel hook on the end, and smashed the thin layer of ice forming on the fishing hole. With that broken and gone, he took a look down into it. He could see a school of fish going by, silver fins flashing in the light of the basement. He set up a fishing line and secured the reel, then went to take a look at the storage. All the rooms were fine, as secure as always and all keeping the proper temperature. The ones opening up onto bare ice were filled with meat, freshly butchered Tuesday.
There was a sound, like a bell ringing. Holo hurried back over. The pole's tip dipped a little, making the same electronic sound. Hold took it out of the holder and started reeling the line in. The fish fought, but it was no match. That hook was in deep. And up it came, until it finally emerged into the air, tail flipping this way and that way as it tried to dislodge itself. Holo brought it over to the block, grabbed onto the club lying beside and gave the fish a few good smacks. When it was clear it wouldnt' be moving anymore, he got the hook out of the fish's mouth and headed back upstairs, taking his new prize with him.
Holo had never fished before coming to Glacies. He sure as hell hadn't ever cleaned a fish. When he bought fish, it came breaded. So, in a strange inversion of things, it had been Klove who had caught Holo how to clean a fish. Holo knew it by heart now. Most days he had fresh fish for dinner, or seal, or mammoth. And most of it he caught for himself. He didn't have to. Holo could have eaten out every night of the week and still had money left. He hadn't retired a poor man by any standards. But if he'd wanted to eat out every day, he could have stayed in the Inbetween in that box of an apartment, watching the soaps like some old biddy.
He put the cleaned fish in the fridge for dinner and the rest went into the small portable incinerator. Holo could remember a time before they were banned on Terra. You could burn as much as you wanted on Glacies, there just weren't enough people to make it worth banning.
Dinner done and the stock checked, Holo made his way to the cloakroom and got dressed in his gear. It went snowpants, boots, underjacket, overjacket, gloves, facemask, snow goggles, scarf and cap. It was an ordeal and a half to dress himself in so many layers, but when you were alone, it was better to be safe and look stupid than to freeze to death outside and prove you're an idiot. He hit the button on the door, and cool air slowly streamed in, getting him used to the sub-zero temperatures outside. When they were the same outside and in, the door opened and Holo stepped out.
Terra had never been like this, not even as far back as his memory went. He remembered playing in a park as a child, but even that had been on top of a building, or maybe inside of one. The details were a bit fuzzy. But never had there been so much unbroken space. You could see for miles and miles, the planet just curving away before you eyes could reach the distance. The mountains were not too far away, dominating the landscape in the other direction. He couldn't see the spaceport, but he knew it was directly dead ahead, about half an hour or more by snowmobile. He went there rarely, usually when Grace and Klove were around and wanted him to tag along to get him new clothes or whatever else had taken their fancy.
He trudged along the outside of the building, checking for damage as he did every morning. Nothing new to be found this morning. Just the usual tracks of animals. It was still good to be outside and taste the cold fresh air. He stopped on the other end of the building, looking at the mountains. He vaguely remembered reading about mountains on earth, once. They'd carved them down, filled the valleys and parts of the oceans with the dirt and built more city on it, until there wasn't any mountain left, just flat plains and filthy water. The history books had taken that out at some point, when some leader didn't like the implications too much. Holo figured there had to be a few people out there like him who still remembered it before it was rewritten, but what did it matter? The mountains were gone, the men who rewrote the books were dead, and nobody cared one way or another. The truth of something only mattered if that truth directly affected you, and that was nobody these days.
Looking done, he headed back inside. It was the same as going out, waiting for the warm air, stripping off his clothes and hanging them up, and finally being let in as the air reached equilibrium. One of these days, it wasn't going to work. Luckily, there was a manual override, and he could always go in the back way.
Holo checked the time, and grumbled to himself as he saw it was only nine am. He headed into the living room and put on a movie, since there wasn't much else to do. Holo picked an old one, a western from when he was young. He tried to remember the actor's name to no avail, but then it appeared right in the opening credits. Reynolds. That was right. Good man. Holo had wanted to be him when he grew. Then he grew up and became something completely different. He didn't feel it was a bad choice. Smuggling had been a good life. What did kids know anyway?
Ten minutes in, and he was sound asleep. No one heard his rattling snores, except maybe a seal or two.
