66 - Half Holiday

The crowd around the grand presentation platform was heavy enough that the Immoderates, the thin black line of uniforms between the owner and his workers, had to set up the force fences to push people back to a safe distance.

There were a few Illiterates all around the back, some standing on planters and concrete fences, but the bulk of the audience were professionals, Techs 2 and 3.  A bank of one-way glass float carriages off to one side vied for vertical space so the 1^st class could see without being seen.  Top hats and cravats were everywhere, bowler hats and open collars as well, all filter equipment hanging loose around their necks.  It was a nice, sunny, low toxic day for Prime’s speech.  The second and third class women wore their Library best, with wide hats heavily embellished with fruit or flowers or dead birds or feathers. Misty veils hung from the brims wafting gently in the breeze as their Keepers, in solid blue or grey, leaned in to listen to what they had to say, to repeat to their husbands, sons, or brothers.  Little girls, too young to need a Keeper, wore their ruffled poke bonnets with heavier children’s veils and clung to their parent’s hands. Little boys in miniatures of their father’s garb but with their filter cravats up over their faces, copied their Papas’ posture, or slouched along, hands in their pockets, sulking. Cats lounged on their owner’s shoulders like shawls, fancy little dogs trotted and yipped on neo-silk leashes, an Illiterate child with scoop and vacuum, ready to swoop in and clean up should one hunch its back and threaten people’s shoes and slippers.

Holograms of the planet rotated slowly over the corners of the square, Xanadu’s green spot prominent.  Music wafted from the hovering drones, from the musicians in the Great Library.  Food vendors wandered the crowds with hover tables or robotic legged presentation slabs, depending on how high status they were, all paid for by Prime or his Barons.  Red beer or true coffee were also offered up, and Stonehouse whiskey for second class men.  Purple champagne offered to the ladies, lemonade for the children.

The lowest platform of the pyramid was carpeted in a bright Earth green while the second was blue.  The third was copper, the fourth silver.  The gigantic open book behind Prime’s throne was solid gold as were his crown and robes, though a different shade of gold so that he was not lost in the book, but rather it appeared that he were the source of it.  Tall holograms, of Perrin’s face hovered on either side, above and behind the Barons of Literature, resplendent in their purple tophats and metallic tailcoats.  No one would miss a single nuance of what Prime said, once he began speaking.

The canopy above and the drape behind was a space scene, with the ice fantasy castle on the moon, prominently displayed, right over the Throne. On the edges of the square, oaks and pines blocked what little particulate made it this far inland, with overhead screens dealing with anything falling from the upper atmosphere.

The crowd noise washed back and forth like an ocean surf that they had never heard unless they were the rare ones who could travel off planet, though that was truly only the Barons and their families.  The music cut off and a fanfare sounded from the drones.  Children cried here and there. Everyone stood still, hands on their hearts, for the anthem, stirring, brazen, full of rising thunder of drums.  Silence.

Prime waited almost too long before his indrawn breath drew everyone’s rapt attention.  “My beloved children,” he began.

“Thank you for this glorious send-off, to receive our Illustrious guest from off-planet.  His Excellency Rashaduzzaman Zarduman, the Leader of the largest transportation company in Corporate Space, shall be arriving tomorrow and I will bring your gracious welcome to our very good friend.”

“Since this is such a significant occasion, I declare a half-holiday.” He paused to let the cheering die down. The Immoderate running the boards flashed the ‘applause’ prompt to get a little more enthusiasm from the crowd, for the recordings.

“The Fantasical and Most Wonderful Carnival grounds shall, today, be opened to ALL classes.”  The cheer this time was more heartfelt.

“In this harsh time, my people, we need to be careful of one another and know that your beloved Prime Owner has all but eradicated those who would infect our carefully constructed and beautiful culture.  Enjoy your day.”

Some hats were even flung in the air as Prime cut his speech to the bare minimum and rose from his throne, to step into a display bubble , with his Barons, for them to be whisked to the shuttle that would take them up to the Moon and the crowd turned with anticipation to the Fantasy gates of the Carnival grounds as they, for the first time in decades, opened with a peel of trumpets and the sprightly opening of Iresh Fulimarin’s “Playtime Suite IV.”

Dammit, old man, I almost had you.  Now I’ve got to wait until you get back from that fortress you have in orbit.  And that bastard Immoderate you have hunting Jess and I is too damned close.