Tilted_Axis
patreon
Chapter 28: Doctor Professor Nightingale
🕑 Added 2020-11-26 12:09:54 +0000 UTCAuthor Notes:
Hey guys! We've had several new people (Patrons) that have joined us recently, and as always thank you! It is highly appreciated.
I've been working to improve things, including my style. Cutting down on adverbs, a bit more description, and more physical reactions from Constance (although without eyelids or a mouth she doesn't make it easy). I tried to apply that in this chapter. Hopefully, that comes through.
Oh. Yeah, if you ever see something that is maybe overly confusing details wise let me know. Constance being from the past means she describes things creatively. To her, something as basic as concrete and plastic might as well have fallen off a UFO.
Don't forget about the Constance's Past Side Chapter if you haven't read it, by the way. If you remember in chapter 2 there were three younger Constance's. Each of them will be getting at least one of their own side chapters to get a glimpse into her past. The first was The Unsquashable Roach, the youngest one.
If anyone has any comments or questions, always feel free to contact me. (Here, Royal Road, and Discord)
Thanks again. Enjoy the chapter.
_________________________________________________________
It is daybreak. I am lying on my chest, floating across the lake toward the bushes near the “The Boathouse” that I found over a day ago.
Reminiscent of the sunset back on that day in Roanoke, the sunrise dyes the sky red and orange. Perhaps even redder and more orange than then Roanoke. A few ducks and geese have been in the area, but they all seem to be moving southward from what I can tell. Besides, the geese have avoided the area since I as those dastardly French would say, “performed an autopsie.” [1] I suppose I inadvertently sent them a message. As for the squirrels, they are also still active, though it is hard to tell because the squirrels here are among the fattest I have ever beheld.
All of this has been on my mind because it leads me to believe that this snowfall must have been unexpected. My gaze moves to the shore, where some vivid yellow and red leaves still cling to the trees.
‘It is likely sometime between September and December. That is my guess at lea—’
My thoughts are interrupted. A familiar yet odd sensation spreads over me. Feeling this, I stop, push off the lake, and leap to my feet. My gaze darts to the kiln, where I can see a paste slipping down the rough edges of the kiln’s shell. As in the chamber pot tunnels, it is about to separate from the shell.
I push my hand into my hazy belly in an effort to catch the paste. My efforts are for naught as the paste drops, leaving a hole in the palm of my hand that haze soon refills. Peering downward, my eyes fix themselves upon the spectacle of shiny bits of sparkling glass bobbing in the water. As if it were bait, fish begin to swarm the paste, consuming and even fighting over it.
‘That is the paste… the substance that changed the rats and the copepods... and now fish are eating it.’ Lifting my head, I sweep my gaze across the calm, still lake. If a monstrous creature lived beneath its surface, one would not know until it was too late. ‘I believe it would be wise to avoid being directly over this water from now on out.’
When the fish are fighting over the last significant piece of paste, a shadow rises from the depths. It is big, round, green, and… I lower myself closer, discovering it is just a turtle. The turtle’s mouth opens, and it snaps up the remaining paste—correction, it was formerly just a turtle. It dives deep underwater after a meal that is certain to be life-changing.
‘I shall do something about the fish and turtle soon. I swear! But for now, I just need to get to my hiding spot...’
With the daylight growing ever stronger, I dash ahead. Arriving at the edge of the lake, I run onto the shore, around the building, and enter a set of tall hedges. This hiding spot is among the worst I have been forced into, but it is also the only one that is close enough to listen in.
I lie down and poke my head out. From here, I can see the front gate of The Boathouse is wrapped in some type of shiny yellow material that reads ‘Police Caution.’ I turn away, assuming it must have something to do with my actions, meaning it is something I would rather just not look at. My gaze moves to the front of the café. Here there is a red brick patio, with numerous metal black tables, each with a pair of metal chairs to accompany them.
‘I am not moving until the café closes…’ My thoughts return to the paste that has now tainted the lake’s life. ‘With the paste already in the lake, there is not much I can do except perhaps warning people? But how am I supposed to warn anyone? I could ask the gentlewoman from the other day, perhaps...?’
___________
A few hours pass, and the café has still yet to open. I glance around worriedly, questioning whether they may not open due to my actions at The Boathouse. Just as that thought crosses my mind, two people approach the café. A man with brown hair in his early twenties walks next to a woman with blond hair in her thirties. They look rather ordinary for people of this era. Each of them wears long jackets that run past their knees, the same blue pants that everyone wears nowadays, gloves, and a brown shirt beneath their jacket. The brown shirt has wavy, cursive letters that read simply ‘The Central Café.’
The woman holds up a thin white stick. She places the white stick to her lips, breathes in, and then blows a thick white smoke.
‘I presume that must be some type of special tobacco stick.’
When the last of the smokes passes her lips, she scoffs. “God, those people the other night stayed forever, I swear. I was ready to kick them out.”
“Hmm?” The man seems to have been broken from his early morning stupor. “Oh, yeah. I think I know who you’re talking about. They tipped well, but yeah, they walked in a few minutes before closing and then took their sweet time drinking their coffees.”
She clicks her tongue, taking another breath of her tobacco. “I can’t stand when people do that shit,” she says, breathing out the smoke at the same time. “It really pisses me off, and I swear it happens every other day.”
They both collectively sigh and then look toward The Boathouse wrapped in the yellow material.
The man blinks, asking, “Did something go down at the boathouse? I know that sketchy wedding or whatever went down there the other day.”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? Someone broke in, stole a bunch of food, and left an unconscious sixteen-year-old girl behind.”
“What the fuck?”
‘When stated like that, it sounds much worse than it actually was… I saved that girl; therefore, I deserved a reward…’ I stare at the yellow material with ‘Police’ on it and then turn away. ‘Aye. This is not London. As long as the nobles do not know of my existence, nary a need to muse on it more.’
The woman flicks the tobacco away as the two resume their banter, entering the café. Her tobacco lands at the edge of the bush, so I send the cattail toward it. Spreading the tendrils and pulling it in, it quickly turns to haze.
‘A cigarette?’ I stare at the purple wall. ‘Fascinating.’
A moment later, the employees return with a tall, shiny silver object. It is the height of a man and has a cube base. Some metal bars run from each corner of the cube, and on top of the bars, a pyramid-like top. From the cube base to the pyramid at the top, a clear tube runs all the way up.
“Come on; we need to set these heaters up for anyone who is crazy enough to sit out here.”
“Why can’t we just leave these things outside? They’re a pain in the ass to move.”
“We used to chain them together at the end of the night so we wouldn’t have to, but someone stole two of them, so now we bring them inside every night.”
They spend a while setting up the pyramids. When the last one is placed, they approach the nearest one to me, roughly ten feet from my hiding spot.
A clicking sound echoes as big flames appear in the center of the pyramid. ‘That is amazing; it is like a giant lantern!’
“Alright, let’s go finish the prep work.”
I spend some time merely staring at the flames while another hour or so passes. More of the café’s employees arrive, and soon patrons begin arriving as well. It does not take me long to realize it may be some time before someone sits at my table, but I do not particularly mind; in fact, my mind is a bit tired anyhow.
‘Come to think of it; I have not slept at all? I mean, this is not the first I thought about it, but still, I thought it would happen eventually. It’s been quite some time, and I have not slept at all except for that time I lost consciousness due to mana loss. I do not get tired, so perhaps I simply do not sleep. That seems very beneficial, but at the same time, it makes it difficult to mentally recuperate.’
Pondering things such as this, the day goes on as the sun moves across the sky, and I lie in my bush staring upwards. My eyes follow a big beetle that has been crawling about. Only a single person has sat at the table near me, and they did not even speak. They just sipped their coffee and stared into my bush. I thought he might have spotted me, but eventually, he just stood up and said something to the effect of, “I am so high” and then left without another word.
‘This would have been more productive if it was not so cold. It’s easy for me to forget how chilly it is when I can hardly feel that type of thing. I do miss the feeling of the sun against my skin, but the cold I shall never miss.’
As I doubt the likelihood of gathering any information, a young woman walks from the cafe with a cup in her hand. Her skin is fair, hinting she is not someone who spends their days performing labor. Using her hand, she pushes a strand of her light-brown hair behind her ear. She wears a long gray coat, blue trousers, black gloves, boots, and a warm winter hat. Stopping at my table, she removes a bag from her back, which she props against the chair. Pulling out a chair, she sits.
‘It seems I will get at last an opportunity to gather some information after all.’
The young woman takes out one of those black rectangles that everyone in this era seems to have, taps it ten times, and places it against her ear. She sits in silence as I watch her intently.
A moment later, she speaks, “Hey, babe. I’m just going to take this quiz online at the cafe, and then I’ll head home.”
I cannot hear what they are saying, but it seems someone is speaking to her.
“Yeah, it’s cold, but I forgot it's due this afternoon, so like I said, I’m just going to take it, and then I’ll be heading home.”
Again someone talks, but this time the woman smiles deviously as her face turns a little red.
She laughs. “Yeah, we can do that again… last time felt really good.”
She says a few more words except quieter. I turn away, staring into the depths of the thicket. A line of ants and moths move about.
My mind races. ‘This mad, sexually deviant woman! Talking about such a graphic thing in public, how inappropriate. I mean… would… How would that… Nay. Do not think about it.’
“You better just be ready.” She giggles, tapping the rectangle one last time with a devilish smirk.
‘...’
“Alright, I need my computer,” she says, pulling a big square object from her bag. She sets it on the table and opens it like a book. Taping this one much like the smaller black rectangle, she leans down and pulls a real, genuine book from her bag.
Something about the big square object causes her smirk to change to a frown. “Just gotta take this French quiz and stop by the store; then I’m home free.” She rolls her eyes with a huff. “Why didn’t I just take Spanish instead? French numbers don’t make any sense at all. Counting in French is so finicky, it goes like ten, then twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, then sixty-ten, four-twenty, four-twenty-ten... How does that make sense!? I mean, come on! Just make a new word for it; why make it so weird?”
‘This woman loathes the French. It warms my nonexistent heart to know some things never seem to change, regardless of the era.’
The young woman taps against the black book like a madwoman.
‘What is that thing, anyhow?... I suppose it does not matter right now; I simply need that bag.’
I unwrap the cattail from around my chest and slowly start letting it leave the bush. Moving the cattail, I wrap it around a table opposite the young woman. I shake the table vigorously, and the woman yelps and shivers.
“W-what? Is it the wind?” The young woman shakes her head and returns to tapping her square.
Again I shake the table. ‘Investigate. I am certain thou art curious.’
She stops, her gaze shoots toward the cattail’s location. “What?” The young woman shouts, leaping away. “Snake!”
I jerk the cattail back into the bushes. ‘...I did not expect someone who was having such a lewd conversation a moment ago to have such a strong fear of snakes… More importantly, prithee do not check the bush!’’
Her theatrics prompt a handful of other people to gaze at her with bewilderment. Her face turns red as she laughs, rubbing the back of her head. “S-sorry, I, uhm, think I saw a snake,” she says in a small voice.
“A snake?” A plump man dressed in this era’s winter clothing purses his lips at the young woman’s words. “In this weather? I seriously doubt it, ma’am.” He stands, eyeing the bushes intently.
I dip even lower, bringing the cattail close.
He lifts his hands and waves his hand at the hedges. “I don’t see anything. At best, it was just a raccoon or something.”
“Y-yeah, now that I think about it, a snake couldn’t move the chair around like that…” She pauses and smiles at the man. “Hey, do you mind watching my stuff for a minute? I need to run to the restroom.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t mind.”
She thanks him and hastily walks off with small half steps.
With the young woman gone, the plump man walks back to his table. He goes about his business as he was before.
‘This is my chance! He’s hardly paying any attention.’
I let the cattail out, except this time, I go directly for the bag. ‘Slowly. Slowly. Slowly.’
The plump man looks over at the table; I stop. He looks away. ‘Slowly. Slowly. Slowly.’
Again I notice the plump man glancing over at the table, so I stop. He returns to tapping on the object in his hands.
Shaking my head, I glare at the bag. ‘Quickly. Quickly. Quickly.’ Not wasting any more time, I seize the bag, dragging it into the bushes.
The man once again looks over but does not appear to notice the difference.
‘Aye. I have done it.’ Dumping the bag, I toss the empty bag back to the young woman’s table. ‘She may have her bag back. I cannot use it.’
The young woman returns. “Thanks! I appreciate it.”
“Ah, yeah. No problem,” the plump man replies.
She stops at her table, tilting her head with narrowed eyes. “H-hey? Did someone touch my bag? Where are all my books!?” she asks the plump man.
“Huh? Your books? No one came by the whole time you were gone,” he replies.
Her face turns red, and her eyes seem a bit watery. “What are you talking about? All my books, except for my French book, are gone! Look, my bag is just sitting on the table empty!?”
“Are… are you sure you just didn’t forget them?”
“No, I didn’t forget them; someone stole them! W-what am I going to do?” she asks loudly, “I can’t afford to replace all my books!”
A cold sweat breaks out on the plump man’s neck. “C-calm down! I’m sure you just forgot them.”
“I didn’t forget them! They were here; I definitely brought them with me!” She points at him. “You said you’d watch them!”
“…Let’s talk to the manager. Maybe they have a camera out here.”
I watch the two start to walk away. My gaze sticks to the young woman. It is not difficult for me to understand her plight in regards to money.
My attention turns to the books that litter the ground. ‘Dynamics, physics, ecology, mechanics of materials… Are these really classes a woman would typically take? I had to essentially steal my education. Yet this woman is allowed to take them just as a man would? None of these are necessarily essential, except for the ecology book that Earl recommended.’
Removing the ecology book, I look back toward the young woman’s table. I shake my head, grip the books, and place them upon her table.
Not long after, three people walk back.
“Yeah, so I ran to the restroom, and when I came back, all my books were gone,” the young woman says, pointing toward the table.
A white-haired man accompanies them, wearing one of the brown shirts from earlier. I assume it is the so-called manager—the manager raises an eyebrow. “...Well, ma’am, you shouldn’t just leave your things without having someone watch them.”
“I did ask someone to watch them,” she says, side-eyeing the plump man.
The plump man coughs, smiling awkwardly.
When the three arrive at the table, the young woman's mouth half-opens. “Wait, they’re back?”
The manager shrugs. “I guess the thief grew a conscience, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so?” The young woman flips through the books. “Wait, my friend’s ecology book is still missing?”
“A-are you sure you brought it with you?” the plump man hesitantly asks.
“Brought it with me? It was a book my friend left at my house; I was just supposed to return it to her.”
The manager shakes his head. “If you’d like, we can report it to the police, or we can just keep an eye out for it for you.”
She thinks for a moment before sighing. “It’s honestly not worth getting the police involved for one book. I’ll just give you my number and… if I have to, I’ll buy my friend a new one.”
The three talk for a while longer before the woman sits down to finish whatever it is she is doing.
With the situation resolved, a blue wall appears.
‘Ah, it is nice to see the Cosmic System is being a bit more considerate when it comes to the wall's appearance. Only eight points remain. I need to discover a way to increase my Sturdiness. It is my greatest weakness… I shall have to think about what I will do about gaining additional levels. I do not know if I can hunt and cannibalize another kiln.’
The young woman soon leaves, and for the remainder of the day, the table is left vacant.
___________________________________________
[1] Autopsie: French spelling of the word autopsy. A postmortem examination to discover the cause of death or the extent of disease.
