Ahead of Schedule
I am officially ahead of schedule! If I don’t write at all tomorrow I will still be ahead by a couple hundred words! This feels good, especially given that I have a meeting tomorrow and I may not get to write.
I officially ended Chapter 3 last night but I was too tired and did not have the time to publish the ePub and PDF versions. They are now online, for those of you who prefer to read that way.
I found myself in an interesting situation in today’s writing. For a while I had a scene scheduled for Boone’s Treasury (which is a lovely old brick building with an interesting history, the details of which I’ve forgotten), but until today I did not know what was going to happen in that scene. I wanted to place The Archives in relation to Boone’s but that didn’t give me anything to actually do in Boone’s. Then it hit me: this was a perfect time for Joe to learn about Katarina. And thus a scene I was sure I was going to axe entirely during revision will probably survive to some degree.
Without further ado, that scene (and more):
They walked until they came upon a brick building in a triangular patch of ground. The sign said it was Boone’s Treasury. Looking through the windows it appeared to be a restaurant, or a bar. It was one huge open room, with a bar and kitchen in the back. Katarina cheerfully announced, “This is the place.”
“You sure,” Joe said, eying the place suspiciously. “It looks like a bar to me.”
Katarina turned to Joe her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “We are on a date after all. Where else would a young couple go but to the local pub?”
“I thought we were going to The Archives,” Joe protested.
Katarina pouted playfully, “You don’t want to be seen with me, is that it?” Joe began to protest. “Relax,” she said with a wink. “We still don’t have access yet. The way to The Archives is upstairs, above the pub. We’ve got some time to kill while Guardian finishes with the arrangements. So what do you say? Do we go in and look like a couple out on a date, or do we stand outside and look like a couple ending their last date?”
Joe pulled open the door, “After you,” he said, waving her in. Joe followed Katarina into the nearly empty pub. They sat down at the only table next to the antique wood burning stove.
“This is my favorite feature of this pub,” Katarina remarked, nodding at the stove. “They don’t make them like this anymore.” She looked over the menu and said, “I don’t suppose you’re hungry, given your late lunch with … Mortimer. How about a couple of appetizers and pint, or two?” she asked.
Joe smiled and nodded. “Sounds fine dear. Whatever you want,” he said, mockingly getting into character.
Katarina merely nodded and set the menu down and caught the eye of the waitress. She ordered for the two of them, and Joe was mildly impressed when she ordered two pints of their Terminator Stout commenting to the waitress that it alone was worth coming to the pub. The waitress left and the two sat in silence. Joe looked around the room; Katarina looked at Joe.
Katarina broke the silence. “If you decide to stay, there is another pub in Salem, same chain, that makes milkshakes with their stout in it.”
“A beer milkshake?” Joe asked incredulously.
“It’s far better than it sounds. You should try it.”
“I’ll make a note of it,” Joe said dismissively. “How will we know when we can go to The Archives?”
Katarina looked genuinely hurt. “You really don’t want to be on this date do you? Even if it is fake.”
Joe snapped to attention, “It’s not that,” he hastily said. “It’s just — ” At that precise moment the waitress came by with their drinks and the appetizers. After she left Joe tried again. “I’m sorry. You are right. I’m not being the best of company right now.”
Katarina smiled and look a long drink. “I’ll just know.”
“Pardon?”
“When we have permission to go to The Archives,” she explained. “I’ll just know. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
“Fair ‘nuff,” Joe said his mouth full of a hot tatter tot. The tot proved too hot for Joe and he sucked in air trying to cool down his burning mouth. Finally he resorted to liquid cooling and took a mouthful of stout.
Katarina was giggling at Joe’s wild antics. “Too hot for you?”
Joe nodded. “Hot but good.”
“And the stout?”
“Good, but I can’t imagine anyone putting this in a milkshake.” Joe paused and thoughtfully considered Katarina. “I know next to nothing about you, but you apparently know everything there is to know about me.”
“Is that a question?” Katarina asked playfully.
“Where do you come from?”
“Here.”
“You’ve been here your whole life?”
“No. I was born in a small village somewhere in Eastern Europe.”
“So your parents moved to Salem?”
“Not exactly. I never knew my parents. They were taken from me when I was a little girl. The man I know as father, he moved to Salem and I came with him.”
“Why Salem?”
“Why not Salem? Is there some better place?”
“Apparently not. I mean, why am I here unless Salem is important somehow.”
“It is the capital of Oregon.”
“That hardly seems important unless you are part of the government, or into politics.”
“And you think I am not?”
Joe was caught off guard. “I thought you — and your people — were trying to stay off the radar, so to speak.”
“And you think we can do that without politics?”
“I had thought you wouldn’t want the government’s scrutiny. To invite them into your world is to invite, well the world into your world.”
“And that is precisely why we must maintain an interest in politics. We must ensure that the government doesn’t care to find out about us.”
“So what? The governor is really one of you?”
“Nothing so obvious and blatant as that. We merely try to keep the government busy pursuing other interests.”
“Such as?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,” she replied in a manner that told Joe that conversation thread was closed.
“So I get why Salem, but why Oregon? Why not some other state?”
Katarina shrugged. “For the simple reason that this is where we found ourselves.”
“I don’t get what you mean. Didn’t you decide to come to Oregon?”
“We all did, but not for some unified reason. Have you ever wondered how and why cities grow? Or wondered how a town becomes a ghost town? People move to a city for all kinds of reasons. In our case there was a critical mass of folks like us all in one place, and when Oregon became a state, well we made sure we were part of the proceedings.”
“So you’ve been around, living underneath Salem, since the beginning.”
“Since our beginning anyway. The Archives would have the exact date, but from quite early on, yes.”
Joe pondered this for a while, “Where exactly is Second City?”
“It’s underneath us.”
“So if I started digging right here I’d eventually end up there?”
Katarina put her finger on her chin and considered. “Maybe not this exact spot, no, but around here, sure.”
“How is it no one else has found you if you’ve been here all this time.”
“We have ways of hiding our existence and circumventing any probes in our general direction.”
“Are there other cities with cities like yours underneath them?”
Katarina laughed delicately. “Oh my yes. We aren’t one of a kind dear Joseph. It would be a sad and uninteresting world if we were the only ones out there. Besides, think of the conflict.”
“What do you mean?”
“Joseph, you are here because one of our kind has done this to you. At least that is the most likely scenario. While I and Mortimer are opposed to such treatment clearly there are those out there who would stoop to such levels. If you were to try to make all of us live in the same city … consider the turmoil and conflict.”
“I think I get it.”
“Each Second City has it’s own … flavor if you will. Every one is built around a common ethical code. It’s not binding like an oath, but it gives guidance to the way people will conduct themselves. Think of it more as a series of clans. Each Second City stands for something and has a reputation, and operates with a unity of purpose and, for the most part, a unity of conduct — though there are always the rebels.”
“So what about Salem. What does it stand for?”
“I thought that would have been obvious by now. First and foremost we protect our own, not just those of us in Salem but our own kind in and out of Salem. We also protect those who are seeking refuge from our kind, or who have been wronged by our kind — such as yourself. We also, like the name of the city, care about peace. Much of what we do is work to ease tensions between cities, and between our kind and your kind.”
“So if you and I are not alike — if we are different ‘kinds’ — what are you? Are you human?”
“Quite human,” she said with disarming smile. “But each of us has some ability, or some deformity, that sets us apart. We’re each extraordinary in some way.”
“This is beginning to sound like a comic book.”
“We actually have more in common with fairy tales than with comic books.”
“So that’s why you have all those fairy tale images around you,” Joe said, understanding flooding him.
Katarina beamed, “It’s to remind me that thought we are not so different we can easily be reviled. It reminds me that my kind needs protection from fear, and it reminds me of the power of fear, and what an entire community gripped by fear can do.” She fell silent, withdrawing into herself, staring into her empty pint glass.
“So who are you to your kind? And don’t try to tell me you aren’t important. They wouldn’t have acted the way they did if you were a nobody.”
“I am something of a leader figure to them. My ability lends itself in that direction.”
“Must be quite a burden for someone your age.”
“It has its drawbacks, and its rewards. But in the end I am needed, and I am useful. I have a responsibility, a duty. I was raised not to turn away from such things.”
Katarina turned her head as if listening for something. “The arrangements have been made. Finish up, then pay the nice lady, dear,” she said with a wink. “I’ll be in the lady’s room.” She got up, sauntering toward the bathrooms, and told the waitress they were ready for their check.
“It’s a date alright,” Joe quietly said to himself.
Joe met Katarina outside the pub. On the side of the building was a flight of stairs leading to a door on the second floor. All throughout the meal Joe wondered how archives going back one hundred years could be housed in such a small location. He had frequently looked up at the ceiling wondering what was just beyond the boards, and concluding they couldn’t be too heavy. As he ascended the stairs behind Katarina his excitement grew. He steeled himself for something bizarre and fantastic, he even prepared himself to walk through the door and end up somewhere completely different. Katarina opened the door without knocking and stepped inside. Joe took a breath, held it, and stepped through.
As Joe looked around the room he now stood in he let out his breath in disappointment. The room was plain, ordinary even. He was standing in well lit, but rather small reception room. A vigorous but ancient looking man sat behind an imposing wall of a desk, the only piece of furniture available, looking at them. His attitude and bearing gave Joe the impression he knew they were coming right at that moment. The rest of the room was unadorned walls, and solid doors, shut tight and giving off the impression they were probably locked. The room was uninviting and generally had a feeling that you were not welcome, no matter who you are.
“Hello Chauncey, you are looking well,” Katarina said by way of greeting.
“And you look as splendid as ever Katarina. And this must be the young gentleman I was told about?”
“Chauncey, I would like to to meet Joe Cumberland, a freelance designer. Joe, this is the Keeper of The Archives.”
“Pleased to meet you, son,” Chauncey said to Joe, politely nodding his head.
“Pleased to meet you,” Joe responded, similarly nodding in Chauncey’s direction.
Chauncey turned his attention to Katarina, “What can I help you with today?”
“We are looking for anything related to bindings.”
Chauncey whistled. “There’s quite a bit of information on that. Can you narrow it down a little?”
“Yes. We’re also looking for any record of a seer’s vision being blocked.”
Chauncey scratched his head. “I don’t recall having anything about the two of them together. But we do have a little bit of information about how to block visions which you might find helpful.”
“I’m sure it will help immensely. Where might we find them?”
“Third quadrant, second aisle, box 52c will be your best bet. You remember the way?” Chauncey asked hopefully.
“It hasn’t been that long you old dog,” Katarina said playfully. “We’ll find it without trouble.”
“Can’t blame me for trying,” he said as he set a key on the counter of his desk.
“Maybe next time,” Katarina said, resting her hand on his as she grabbed the key. “This way Joe,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to a door opposite the one they came in through.