From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus)
Subject: Re: Song of Sixpence - Part Nine
Organization: Data I/O Corporation
Date: Mon, 5 Oct 1992 06:06:51 GMT

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>Jilara drops off a platter of pseudo-Mrs. Fields cookies, made from the 
>new Mrs. Fields Cookie Cookbook she just got.  (Alaric claims he isn't into 
>cookies -- foo on him, but more for us!)  She then puts down a box she is 
>carrying, a box that looks somewhat like a conventional birthday present, 
>but also looks like one of those brushed aluminum briefcases, tied with the 
>sparkly holographic ribbon one sometimes sees, in a tasteful shade of blue-
>silver-black.  

Liralen picks up on of the cookies and quietly nibbles on it as she watches
Jilara's demonstration with careful eyes.

>A manniquin that looks like something halfway between one of those posable 
>artist's manniquins and the liquid metal form of the T-2000, approximately 
>Liralen's size and with a "skin" that is metallic blue-black, with arabesques
>of silver decoratively swirled across its, like surrealist patternings of 
>muscles.  On its face, two brightly-glowing blue lights open like shutters,
>in approximately the position of eyes.  It walks over to Liralen, not 
>jerkily as one might expect, but with a flowing sinuousness like coalescing 
>energy.  "Please state desired activity," comes a voice, not quite 
>mechanical, but strangely androgenous (not so surprising from an android!).

Liralen carefully reaches out to touch the mannequin, stroking the smooth
metallic finish of it's chest.  She drops her hand away, and unconsciously
takes a relaxed at-ready stance as Jilara explains and demonstrates the 
creature's purpose.

>Jilara points at the droid and tells it "Stay," and the droid obediently
>freezes.  "I borrowed it from a cyber-space program.  Oh, it's also a very
>good dancer, and can interpret music into dance motions, as well.  Very
>entertaining."  She gives Liralen a hug.  "Anyway, it's yours.  Happy
>Birthday, Lady!"

Liralen hugs Jilara back, at first, somewhat absentmindedly as the droid
fascinates her; but then she focuses again and hugs Jilara back
enthusiastically.  "Lady Warrior, a perfect gift."  Liralen steps back a
pace, "Domo arigato gozaimus." and she bows deeply to Jilara.

>She snaps her fingers, suddenly remembering.  "Oh yes, and when you want to 
>put it away, just specify "Carry Mode.""  On hearing the command, the droid 
>begins to reverse the generation process, folding up pieces and collapsing 
>inward, until once again, there is a shiny metallic box tied with hollographic
>ribbon.  "Very convenient for transport," she says, and presents it to 
>Liralen with a flourish.

Liralen takes it happily and hugs it once and puts it under her chair.
Then giggles like any other young woman, "I just can't *WAIT* to try it
out..." but she'll wait until it's time she can get back to the Dangerroom
and try it out without *her* endangering anyone else...

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>Opening the package, Didi sets the sausages on the grill.
>Another small package wrapped in colorful paper and ribbons
>comes next.  The note attached is addressed to Liralen.  
>"Liralen, Happy Birthday from Koally and SEA"
>Inside the package is a small pendant, the pendant flashes
>pictures that bring a smile to Liralen's face because they
>are pictures of her favourite memories.

She looks at the pendent for a very long moment, both tears and laughter at
the pictures within.  One is even a picture of a person and a place she's
never seen, many others of a place that's never even *been*.  She kisses
the locket and puts it at her throat with a chain of silver. 

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>Didi said to bring food, she remembers.  well, the only food
>have me, she thinks, is perhaps food for thought.  not much 
>of a cook, me.  and she smiles gently.

>"hey Liralen," she says quietly.  

Liralen turns at the soft voice, recognizing it even before she turns.

>she stands under the shadow
>of a tree which no longer has even autumn leaves on it.  it has
>long been dead, and now stands only in her memory as it was cut
>down, a hazard to a house (she guesses, she only knows she
>walked by once and it was gone).  the tree is huge, big enough
>around so that one slice of its trunk would serve as a card table.
>it is old, the inside riddled with insects creating catacombs.
>and it has a face, this tree.  a bulbous nose, huge, shaggy 
>eyebrows, jagged lips, gentle, unseeing eyes, wrinkles that 
>flowed into the earth, the smell of an old and favorite pipe,
>and a spark of living and great, overflowing laughter, despite
>great age.  like an old man, and like an old
>man it greeted Elena each day when she jogged past it.  when she
>could still jog.  she loved that tree dearly, and she brings it
>here so she can stand under it, because she needs every pleasant
>memory she can hold onto.

The Asian woman walks closer to the tree... smelling it's fragrance,
touching the bark, outlining the features of the face.  She crouches down
to look into some of the catacombs, and smooths a wayward root that runs a
good yard before diving deep into the earth's depths.  She says nothing,
only smiles at Elena, and leans against the huge trunk.

>"Liralen..." and she is now just elena, elena in jeans and a 
>hankerchief on her head and a backpack full of books.  "my
>gift is this tree.  it was my woods when i lived in the most
>goddawful suburb...it was a friend, and it only lives now in
>me, and anyone i can pass its memory on to.  and now, if ever
>you should want, it is yours as well."

Liralen nods and looks up at the branches.  "Yes, my friend, a memory well
worth giving..."  She looks into elena's eyes, "Thank you."

>and she is shadowme.  "if can me find the poem, will me send...
>sending memory giving warning blessing words..." and she fades.

another nod before the exit.

>And she is Shiner.  "Blammor?  To invoke you here is, perhaps,
>inappropriate.  But it is you who I speak to.  To you and your
>lady, I give this."  She opens her left hand, which is curled
>into a fist.  The right hand can never truly be other than a 
>claw, but the left flattens out.  She lifts it to her mouth,
>her fingertips brushing her lips, and she blows a kiss to be
>caught and delivered by the autumn wind.  And she vanishes.

For a moment, Liralen's eyes grow shattered glass white, Darkness smooths
and melds over her human skin.  And, for a mere second, a Dark, slender man
stands.  A Dark hand, long and lean makes a catching motion, and with the
motion and a chuckle that baffles all in wheither or not it is sad or glad, 
fades away into only Liralen.  

>and she is shadowshine.  she hugs Liralen gently, 

and Liralen hugs her just as gently back, and whispers, "Love to loves..."
and lets her go.

>then climbs 
>the tree to sit among its branches and watch the celebration.
>and when it finally ends, she will help pack up bits and crumbs,
>and then go back to her rafters.
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>As the throng begin to dive on the food, a few with sensitive noses notice
>a strange, yet appetising aroma. Ignatz wanders in with a covered earthenware
>pot, steam escaping around the lid, and a handful of warm baguettes.

At the advent of the amazing aroma, Liralen starts working her way over to
the trestle tables.  

>He places the food on the heaving trestle tables, and wanders over to add his
>greetings to the many Liralen has received.

She greets him happily and says, "Goodness, you've brought your bean crock
again?!  I can smell it from here!  I remember the first time you brought
one of those into the Place..."

>"Happy Birthday Liralen!"

"Thank you, very much, Ignatz." she says with a hug, if he is inclined, and
then happily breaks off a piece of a baguette and gets a helping from the
crock.

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>"Liralen, there's nothing traditional about the timing of this, but I
>thought that I'd like to contribute something from my Hispanic heritage.
>Starting on the left, we have tortillas (both flour and corn), a spicy
>mixture of refried beans and onions and olives, shredded lettuce, chopped
>tomatoes, sliced green onions, chopped white onions, shredded cheese, sour
>cream, and several different varieties of salsa (from just the barest hint
>of hot to pure distilled essence of jalapeno).  Yup, it's build-your-own
>tostada time!"

Liralen chuckles to see the tostada bar, and says, "I lived in Southern
California for almost a decade, and I've *always* loved Mexican food.  One
of my favorite 'restaraunts' was a little fast food place called El Indio.
Amazing food, completely run by Mexicans, and every time I go to visit my
parents, we go there."  She takes a tortilla and dips it in one of the
greater hots, and yelps when the heat hits.  "Gods," she says, after a sip
of beer, "That's *good*."

>Soprano steps back to allow anyone who's interested access to the table --
>and as the air shimmers around her, she is suddenly surrounded by the other
>nine members of the Claremont Camerata, who sing "Happy Birthday" ito
>Liralen in 10-part harmony.

And Liralen listens in complete amazement, and claps heartily when it is
done.  Wow...

----
Liralen Li
li@inigo.Data-IO.com
Newsgroups: alt.callahans