Weekend Wind Down – The Doll: Existence

The ambassador strode out of the room, leaving the dealer to grin and rub his hands together. He turned to his workforce.
“Is there any damage?”
“No. I don’t understand what this one is made of. She should have been damaged badly the way he hefted that whip.”
“She’s a special order. No expense spared.”
The foreman shrugged. “And all for the enjoyment of one spotty teenager…”
“Yeah. But remember he’s a teenager who will one day become the most powerful man in the western world.”
The foreman looked puzzled.
“When his grandfather dies, won’t there be an election? I thought that lot over there elected the big guy.”
His boss lifted a bored shoulder.
“Used to, but not any more. It’s hereditary now. Like our king, only with actual power.”
“Oh.”

It took a month, but the deal was eventually done, and when the only scion of the First Family arrived in England to continue his education (in the only country in the world where it was deemed safe for him to live without at least a dozen secret service operatives in attendance), Bella was part of his household.

Five thousand miles away in California, the richest man in the world rolled his wheelchair to a vantage point from where he could both see and hear the ocean. He was painfully thin, and it was obvious to even the most casual observer that he was sick unto death.
He sat lost in a reverie for a long time, unmoving until a graceful and beautiful woman walked out onto the terrace. He turned his head to give her an effortful smile.
“It begins, my darling, our revenge will be devastating.”
She crossed to the railings on silent feet and only the way the bones stood out in her hands as she grasped the wrought iron gave a clue to her internal tension.
“Do you promise me?”
“Oh yes. The family whose arrogance brought about the suicide of our only child will pay in full. Starting with the President, his blustering blowhard of a son, and his grandson.”
She held his gaze for a long moment.
“If we are not betrayed.”
“I have no worry of that. The lines leading back to us have all been severed. Those who built the weapon chose to meet their own deaths, secure in the knowledge that the First Family would feel the pain of loss such as they have inflicted on so many other families.”
“And will you live to see our vengeance, my love?”
He smiled a twisted smile.
“I can but hope…”

Back among the dreaming spires, Earl proved to be the antithesis of his blustering and aggressive father and grandfather. He was a quiet, studious young man whose preferred mode of operation included politeness to everyone. His Oxford home was comfortable and unpretentious, and staffed only with androids. A lot of his fellow students used the house as a sort of an impromptu cafeteria cum clubhouse, and Earl smiled on their excesses without actually joining in.
There was very little the young American wasn’t willing to share, except Bella. Some of the better-off among his fellow students also had sex dolls, which they passed randomly from hand to hand. At first, these young men were inclined to be contemptuous of Earl’s refusal to share his doll. But then a few of them saw her, and as one guy put it: “Hey, if you had a Rolls Royce would you want to share with a guy who had a Chevrolet Spark?”
As time went on Bella became more of a companion and sexual partner than a toy. It began when Earl discovered just how much intelligence lurked under the blonde curls, and began talking about what he was reading as he lay in bed with his head pillowed on her ample breasts. She listened intently, before making a suggestion in her slow southern drawl.
“If you didn’t deactivate me during the day I could read it myself, then I’d know what y’all are talking about.”
“You could indeed. And I think that would be a big help to me.”
Thus it was that Bella remained ‘awake’ at all times. She learned a great deal about English literature, and an even larger amount about the young man who owned her. Being programmed to crave approval, the android toned down the tartiness and started to dress in a much more genteel manner. It took a while for Earl to notice the change, and when he did he wasn’t sure how to react.
So he said nothing, until one afternoon when he returned home to find his bedmate studiously cleaning his walking boots. It seemed odd to him that a doll programmed for sex should be capable of caring for his other needs as well. He coughed, and she jumped.
“Hey” he said gently “isn’t that somebody else’s job?”
She flinched, and looked at him with what would have been fear in her eyes if she had been human. He put that thought to one side and smiled reassuringly.
“It’s okay, honey. I was just asking.”
She ducked her head as if still expecting reproof.
“The valet is supposed to do it, but it don’t do a proper job. Needs direction but nobody don’t have the authority to make it do its work properly.”
Earl looked at her thoughtfully. “You saying I need a housekeeper?”
“I guess. Though I know it ain’t my place to say.”
He picked up one of her muddy little hands in his big, clean ones.
“You want the job?”
“Master will have his joke,” she said woodenly.
“Look at me Bella” his voice was firm and commanding.
She raised her eyes to his face, to see him looking as angry as she had ever known him to be. She shrank under his fulminating gaze and he sighed before speaking quite crossly.
“When have I ever treated you in a way that gives you the idea I am a cruel man?”
“Never. Master.”
He stopped sounding angry.
“Please don’t call me Master. I hate it. My name is Earl. Please use it. And please will you manage my household for me?”
The sincerity in his voice penetrated the circuits of her brain and she essayed a smile.
“I would love to keep house for you, Earl. But how can it be?”
“Easy. I just tell the rest of them to take their orders from you. My mother’s household is run by a droid and it goes like clockwork.”
And that was pretty much how it fell out. By the end of his first year of study Earl depended on Bella for intellectual stimulation, physical gratification, and a comfortable lifestyle.

© jane jago

Crumpled Paper

In the end
There was nothing to say
No words came
Though I stared for a day
Crumpled paper
Kicked towards the bin
A crumpled love
Grown tawdry now and thin
In the end
There was nothing to say
Though my heart soared
As your heart walked away

©Jane Jago

Prunella’s Kitchen – A Romantic Night In

Prunella teaches you how to cook like a toff!

Yes. I know. Unlikely. However, sometimes one needs to make the effort. Men can be very simple beings, treat them kindly and they will do what you require. Hence…

To succeed you really do need to move your mind away from salmon en croute with baby vegetables. And why is this, so I hear you cry? Remove your nose from whatever luridly illustrated cookery book you are currently espousing and consider the creature to whom you are wed.
If, like the Hon. Rodney and most of his chums, your husband is the product of nanny, minor public school, and the armed forces, he has much less refined appetites than he would like to admit to. Chateauneuf-du-Pape is wasted on him: give him own-label red from one of the German supermarkets in a big glass, or a pint of old stumpblaster, and he’s a happy man. Similarly with food. Do not waste your time and effort on some delicate, complicated, small thing on a pretty plate. He. Will. Not. Appreciate. It.
No. The way to his heart is beef stew. With dumplings. Followed by jam roly-poly.
Now you’re stumped aren’t you? Your cordon bleu classes didn’t prepare you for that one.
Very well. In the spirit of female solidarity. I shall divulge.
The stew.
In a very large saucepan place the following. Diced beef (skirt for preference, or rump). Chopped onion. Diced carrot. Three or four potatoes cut small these will cook down and thicken the gravy. Cover with stock (cube stuff is perfectly fine). Do not be tempted to add herbs, spices or seasoning. This thing needs to be bland. Place on the range and bring to a simmer. Cook very gently for at least two hours. After which add more potatoes, peeled and chunked. Add more stock to cover potatoes. Cook gently for as long as it takes to cook potatoes until they are good and soggy.
In the meantime prepare dumplings and roly-poly.
You need 2lb self-raising flour, 1lb shredded suet (from a box, do not be bothering to shred your own). Add two beaten eggs and enough water to make a softish dough. Halve the dough.
Make half into balls about testicle size.
Roll the other half into a rectangle about a nine by six inches. It should be quite thick. Spread thinly with strawberry jam and roll up. Liberally butter a bit of tin foil large enough to enclose and seal your jam roll. Dump the roll on the foil and seal carefully.
When the potatoes in the stew are satisfactorily soggy, bring the pot up to a gentle boil and lob in your dumplings. Lid on and they will be done in about half an hour.
And now to boil the roly-poly. Here is where grandmother’s fish kettle comes in very handy shove about three inches of water in that blasted thing and when it comes to a rolling boil throw in the foil-wrapped delicacy. Do not let the water come off the boil and don’t let it boil dry. Otherwise it can be safely left to its own devices.
Call your spouse to the table and dish him up a large bowl of stew. Once he is outside that carefully get the roly-poly out of the boiling water and unroll it from its foil coffin. Serve a thick slice accompanied by a jug of custard. From a can if you like, although the most brownie points can be accumulated by making very thick custard (no, not the eggy sort, the yellow cornflour sort) and allowing a skin to form.

Normally one would offer an alternative menu, but in this case there is none. All that remains to be done at this point is to either confess to the dent in the Range Rover, or mention the bracelet you have seen in a certain jewellery emporium.
Either way I have provided you with the tools to ensure your ‘lord and master’ is but putty in your hands.

Look out for more tips on how to cook like a toff next week!

Daily Drabble – Treasure

The mermaid leaned her elbows on the deck of the dive boat. 

“It’s there all right. That’s not the argument.”

The pirate snarled. “What is the ‘argument’?”

“It’s the guardians.”

“Guardians? Nobody said anything about guardians!”

“Did you think the Queen would play fair with you?”

“No. No more than I played fair with her.” He grinned reminiscently.

The pirate cut the silver chain that bound the mermaid to him and she slipped gratefully into the waves.

Back home, he sold his treasure map for enough money to set him up for life, though he ‘forgot’ to mention the guardians.

©Jane Jago

Coffee Break Read – Gotta Be Family

The name’s Nero, Sam Nero. Private eye and augmented android. Me and my holographic sidekick, Sugar, operate out of an office on the fifty-fifth level of The Last City. We do okay. But some days are a bit bumpier than others…

I turned and closed the office door. I spoke softly.
“Okay Mister O’Halleran, what gives?”
A panel behind the desk opened and the big shark himself stepped out. He was a little dusty, but unharmed, and he held a blaster in one big fist. Seeing it was me, and I was alone, he pocketed the weapon. His flat, killer’s eyes regarded me unblinkingly for a second.
“You have just presented me with a problem, Nero.”
“How so?” I leaned one shoulder against a bit of door that wasn’t smeared with rat blood and lifted a brow at the hulking killer.
“I got information that you had taken money to kill me. And that Katie Scarlett was in on the deal.”
“So you decided to disappear?”
“I did. And I heard my little girl screaming. And now you come in here quiet, with your hands empty. And I don’t know what to think.”
I shrugged.
“Try thinking that you’ve been had.”
He regarded me for a long moment.
“Maybe I have. But what to do about it.”
I examined my fingernails for a long minute before giving him my blandest stare.
“Go back in that cubbyhole and await developments. Or…”
“Or what?”
“Or find out who set this up.”
“And how do you suggest I go about that?”
“Think for a start. Think about who would benefit if you thought Katie Scarlett had betrayed you.”
O’Halleran stared at me. His eyes were lightless and unreadable. Then he nodded.
“I’ve thought. And now we have to catch the bastard.”
“You narrowed it down to one?”
He shook his big head ruefully.
“Not that simple. Gotta be family. Nobody else benefits. Nearest is my sister and her slimy bastard of a husband. But it don’t quite fit.”
I waited as something came across his countenance, something he didn’t like too much by the looks of him. When he said nothing I pulled my brave together and spoke up.
“Okay, Mister Aitch, what does fit?”
He looked at me with something akin to loathing, but I gave him back stare for stare and in the end he dropped his eyes.
“I got a cousin, his mammy died when he was just a button and my ma and pa brung him up as their own. We was like brothers. He has a son, a smooth handsome son…”
He stopped speaking, and I kept my mouth shut too, knowing that this glimpse of O’Halleran’s humanity was a dangerous thing to have seen. He was quiet for a while, but when he did speak his voice was as coldly unemotional as it always was unless he was talking to Katie Scarlett.
“All right, Nero. You are supposed to be the best. Catch the bastard for me. I’ll pay whatever.”
“I’m working for Katie Scarlett right now.”
His face worked for a moment.
“I suppose you are. So now what?”
“That depends on you. Can you get out of here unseen?”
“I can.”
“Once you are out, where can you get to?”
“My private apartment, upstairs. You will need a key card to get in,”
“Doesn’t Katie Scarlett have one?”
“No. She has her own apartment and I don’t have a key to that.”
I thought he probably did have a key, but deemed it prudent not to voice that thought. He handed me a card and turned to go back through the panel.
“One hour,” I said to his retreating back, and he nodded.
Once the panel had shut gently behind him I opened the office door. I gave Katie Scarlett just the merest suspicion of a wink before coming out and carefully closing up behind me. I looked at the two big droids.
“Nobody goes in there without my say-so. That’s nobody.”
They looked to Katie for approval and she nodded.
The bigger of the two spoke.
“That means not even Miss O’Halleran?”
She nodded again.
“Sam will have his reasons.”
“I do have. For now you need to speak to all the staff Katie Scarlett, assure them that everything is being taken care of.”
“I can do that. And you will be?”
I waved my fingers and she swallowed.
“Hacking, huh?”
“I prefer to call it exploration.”
She managed a wan little smile, and turned away with a deliberate swing of her hips.
“And Katie,” I spoke to her retreating back and she turned to look over her shoulder. “Don’t speak to any family members.”
She showed me her even, white teeth in a taut grin
“I won’t.”

From ‘Sam Nero and the Case of the Dutiful Daughter’ one of the stories in Sam Nero PI by Jane Jago

Daily Drabble – Bequest

It was his grandmother’s final wish, formalised in her will:
And to Mungo I bequeath the contents of my safety deposit box, provided he keeps his word to me and marries within the year.
Mungo, the eldest son of a duke and in his thirties, hadn’t shown interest in marriage, although often seen with various celebrity women, but now speculation mounted.
A year after his grandmother’s funeral, at a private ceremony, Mungo married his secret commoner lover of many years. The ring, his grandmother’s, had been in the lockbox.
Mungo proudly introduced his new husband to the family soon after.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Coffee Break Read – Petty Malice

It had been rather earlier in the morning than Julia really wanted to be on the road, but a summons to a meeting with the Magistratus was more or less an imperial decree. Ientaculum meetings were apparently all the fashion in Rome right now, so Julia was dressed smartly and bowling along the imperial highway towards Viriconium before her eyes were truly open. Her Senior Investigator who also happened to be her husband’s vitricus, Gaius Brutus Gallus, cracked his jaw in an enormous yawn.
“The devil fly away with the woman,” he grumbled. “What maggot has got into her brain now?”
Edbert answered from the driving seat. “It’s her fancy imperial cousin who is staying with her. Keeps dropping the latest fashions in Rome into the conversation. Bedwyr thinks the woman is taking the mingo.”
Julia sighed. “Well I’m going to have a word. Agrippina may be my boss, but she has to realise she’s currently down a submagistratus.”
“And that means you don’t have the time to be popping along to Viriconium just to smooth her ego.” Edbert had the right of it, of course, but putting it that bluntly made Julia wince.
“Why does Bedwyr think the mingo is being extracted?”
“Because he can see the imperial cousin laughing behind her hand, and so can Domina Annia, but Domina Agrippina is in one of her moods.”
“Which one?”
“Overbearingly gracious.”
“Oh that one. We had some experience of that when she believed Bestia’s lies about Dai. Why is she like it now?”
“Bedwyr says she don’t much like her cousin. But feels obliged to offer sanctuary as the woman is disabled. Ski-ing accident apparently.”
Julia sighed. “This could be all sorts of awkward, then.”
“It could. If you let it. Time to poker up and do your best Domina Julia face.”
Julia made a very rude noise. “I suppose that explains why Viriconium, not Annia’s villa. Which is a site closer.”
“Indeed. But so much less formal.”
Gallus grunted. “I think I’d be better off going to the kitchen with Edbert.”
Julia showed him her teeth. “You don’t get away that lightly. If the Magistratus wants an ientaculum meeting that’s what she’s going to get. And if I’d any forethought I’d have brought Angie Ffrydd along too.”
There being not much more to say, the rest of the journey was completed in silence, with Gallus going so far as to close his eyes and pass the time dozing gently.
At the portico of the Magistratus’ official dwelling, a uniformed porter leapt forward to open the door of the all-wheel. Julia snarled at him and he refrained from attempting to help her out of the vehicle.
With Gallus at her shoulder she turned to look at Edbert. “I’ll buzz you when I’m ready to leave.”
“Yes Domina Julia.” His voice was the perfect blend of respect and polite blandness, but his eyes were alight with unholy amusement. Julia offered him the suspicion of a wink before following the porter into the building.
The Magistratus, her partner Annia, and a thin brown-skinned woman who leaned heavily on a single elbow crutch were just arriving in the atrium.
“Ah, Julia, on time as ever. And you have brought along your Senior Investigator…”
The Magistratus was obviously struggling over what to say next, and Julia let her fumble for a few seconds before speaking briskly.
“You said ‘meeting’. And SI Gallus always accompanies me to meetings.”
This being inalienable, Agrippina led the way into the garden, where a simple buffet meal was laid out. Julia was glad to see chairs around a white-clothed table as the idea of sharing a lectus with any of the others was unappealing.
Annia caught her eye and made a deprecating face to which Julia replied with a grin.
They filled their plates and sat down to ‘enjoy’ what Julia thought was probably the most awkward meal it had ever been her misfortune to sit through. Pina was at her Imperial worst, Annia stared at her plate and refused to meet anybody’s eyes, Gallus ate in stoic silence, and the visitor, who was introduced as ‘Ancilla’, made small talk in a patrician drawl. It didn’t take long to hear the undertones of belittlement and not-so-subtle mockery of anything and anyone attached to the Magistratus. Julia gritted her teeth, and made a mental note to leave as soon as common civility permitted. She could, she thought, survive without blowing a steam valve if she just concentrated on her food and let the flood of petty malice flow over and around her without actually listening.

From Dying as a Spy by Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook

Glossary of Latin and Other Terms
Please note these are not always accurate translations, they are how these terms are used in Dai and Julia’s world.

ientaculum – breakfast
lectus – dining couch
mingo – piss
vitricus – stepfather

Daily Drabble – Ladybird

If one more person tells me to ‘fly away home’, I won’t be responsible for the consequences.

I’d like nothing better than to fly home, except that home went up into the belly of some human’s leaf sucker so I’m rootless.

Which would be okay if it wasn’t for halfwitted folk quoting meaningless doggerel at me.

My house is not on fire, and I’m a childless spinster. 

I’m currently shacking up with a renegade hornet and I’m seriously considering having him sting something. Anyway it’s nearly cold time, and we plan to sleep together.

Come spring we might even awake…

©Jane Jago

Coffee Break Read – Flexible Morality

Imagine waking up one day unable to recall who you are or where you came from – only to find you are serving a sentence as a convict conscript for crimes you have no memory of ever committing…

“I will make it a priority to produce my formal recommendation as soon as possible,” he said, keeping his tone brisk but conciliatory. “I appreciate how important it is to your department, Var Tyran, to have a speedy resolution one way or the other, but I will not be able to give you the recommendation you seek. This man is a very high risk individual – even within my Legion he is regarded as being dangerous. You heard the Sergeant and I can assure you he will be speaking from a depth of experience of this soldier no neurocologist ever could possess. I will need more than the usual amount of convincing to let this one loose.”
The woman shrugged on a light jacket as she came back towards him.
“I quite understand Commodore, true integrity is a rare and valuable trait in an officer serving the Coalition. Rare enough so I did not expect to find it here. My mistake, judging the Special’s high command by their troops’ reputation.”
Vane’s goodwill evaporated a little.
“I think, Var Tyran, you should be more careful about making such assumptions. There is no corruption in the military. But perhaps your colleagues in the security forces have more flexible moralities.”
“Well, of course we do, Commodore, we have to – it’s part of the job description.” She smiled, her teeth pressing slightly into the softness of her lower lip. “But then morality is something that is not clear cut in this particular case.”
“There is so much that is ‘not clear cut’ about this case,” Vane said, giving voice to the doubts that had gnawed at him from the moment the interview began. “How can we even be sure the man has truly lost all his memories? He speaks as if highly educated and shows no remorse for his deeds. Sergeant Hynas offered a very good analysis, I feel.”
Var Tyran held out her hand to him, with its beautifully manicured nails. For a moment Vane thought she was attempting some kind of farewell gesture. Then he realised she wanted to show him the device linked on the inside of her wrist.
“Yes, your Sergeant was right in one thing Commodore, that man has been wired to the Lattice for over five years. He can’t have a thought or emotion without us being able to tell something of the nature of it. I can promise you he did not lie once in your presence, I would have known if he had.” The woman took a tiny step closer as she spoke and looked up, directly into his eyes as if willing him to understand the importance of what she said. Her own eyes were arresting – many shifting, subtle, shades of blue. “Apart from kinaesthetic skills, the language centres were the only memory related areas unaffected by the trauma. Believe me, my people wish it was not so. He could have given us so very much. When we first brought Revid in we took him to pieces neuron by neuron, synapse by synapse. So we know there is nothing there. We also know there is no evidence of any brain damage. It is as if something just wiped entire swathes of his memory clean – like resetting a data store.”
“I’m not sure how something like that could happen,” Vane said, frowning.
“You are not alone, Commodore. We still don’t know what caused it, only how little it left behind.”
“So what do we know?” he asked. The woman looked away, consulting a screen perhaps or just thinking, it was hard to be certain. She gave a sigh, her breasts lifting as she did so.
“Alright. What we know. Revid has a marked curiosity about what life is like outside the Special Legion. He accepts he is responsible for the crimes he committed but is confused around it. It is not real to him that he once had a wife and daughter, that he killed them or that he went around blowing up innocent people. His only experience of life has been in the Legion, and his only taste of something approaching a normal human relationship is through one friendship which he values above all else. Apart from that, he sees the Coalition as being the only thing that matters. When he speaks of wishing to serve, I can promise you he is not using a platitude.” She looked up into Vane’s eyes again and he could read her sincerity. “That is the man you saw standing before you – and that man is many things, but he is not the ruthless murderer we used to see in the news reports. In his own experience he has never been that ruthless murderer.”
Vane took a few moments to think. He would like to be able to find some common ground, some way he could bring this through that worked for them both. But he struggled hard to see how.

From Trust A Few book one in Haruspex, the second Fortune’s Fools trilogy by E.M. Swift-Hook which is only 0.99 to buy for a limited period.

Daily Drabble – Breakthrough

Finally, the breakthrough she had dreamed of – sometimes literally.
Two decades Geraldine had worked, yet the last piece of the equation never came into focus.
It happened late at night. She’d been going over the figures one more time and suddenly some stood out as if highlighted. A frantic hour later, she was done.
She was about to phone the team when she looked again at the projected outcome.
A cold horror slipped through her veins.
Dawn broke as Geraldine scrabbled desperately to cover up what she had found so no one else in the team would ever discover it.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Start a Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑