Chapter 5: Accustom

Clara rolled out of bed with a grumble. It felt like every muscle of hers was sore. She slowly trudged to the shower and began trying to loosen them up.

The previous day's skydive training was not easy. It was clear from the start she was very much not a natural; learning to even hold a spread-eagle formation in the vertical wind tunnel was enough of a challenge, and she didn't yet have much luck in aiming her descent without tumbling like mad. A few more days in the coming weeks had been scheduled to continue the lessons, marked on a calendar on the fourth floor as days she was not at all looking forward to.

With the skydiving being such a challenge, the rest of the day was a write-off. After Sorean had escorted her back to the villa and declared that the next morning would be free time to allow recovery, she had eaten dinner alone and almost crashed into bed instantly. Even now she couldn't really remember what, if anything, she had done between dinner and bedtime.

After quite a long shower, Clara made her own breakfast and spent most of the morning reading the book of mothers' memoirs. She'd decided for her first reading to simply enjoy the stories as-is; any focusing on the details for pointers on her own situation could wait. So far, all the stories were of middle- to upper-class families - nothing from the royal family, which while not a surprise was still a bit disappointing.

Time seemed to vanish. It felt like only minutes before it was lunchtime and Sorean arrived, carrying a plate full of small clumps of meat and cheese on toothpicks.

"Good day, Clara," he said as he was let in. "I expected you to be taking it easy this morning, so I took the liberty of having lunch prepared in the palace kitchens instead of your own for minimal distraction."

"...wow, thanks." Clara was legitimately surprised; this felt like the first truly affectionate action Sorean had taken towards her that wasn't necessary as part of moving her into Alcamoth and getting her used to things. She led him up to the kitchen so they could get drinks to go with the food; she was getting used to her hew house surprisingly quickly.

After a few mouthfuls, Sorean laid out the plan for the afternoon. "As you are likely still tired and sore from yesterday, we shall be staying in today. We will practice some Erythscript, and I would also like to introduce you to the world of television, should you not have done so yourself already. Is there anything you would like to add?"

Clara did have something she wanted to bring up at the next opportunity. "Well...I've been thinking about what...what the captain told me." Dangit, forgot his name. Something with a Th-? Oh well. "And I feel like it'd be a good idea for me to learn a weapon. Or some sort of self-defence. Nothing major, just enough to catch the bad guys off guard."

Sorean put a hand on his chin. "Traditionally, only the heirs to the throne undergo combat training. But it is reasonable to provide you with a means of defending yourself." He nodded. "I shall see what can be done. I see no reason to deny you an abbreviated lesson in a small, easily concealable weapon. But of course this will take time out of all else you must learn."

"I'm fine with that."

"So be it. Do you have any further desires?"

"Uh...not that I can think of right now, but I'll definitely tell you if I come up with anything."

The next hour or so was spent practicing writing Erythscript. It was pretty tricky; with the exception of the S and Z pair, every single letter had its own unique curvature and pattern of intersections. It wasn't at all hard to draw squiggles that could be easily recognised as the letters, but proportioning them correctly within their conceptual boxes was a challenge. Clara expected that being in the royal family would mean her writing would have to be pretty crisp, so she figured a whole lot of practice was in her near future. Luckily, numbers were comparatively trivial, composed of only straight lines outside the zero and looking almost completely identical to the ancient numeral forms she already knew. In addition, from observing Sorean's signature, she strongly suspected that there was no cursive form of the script, so she wouldn't have to learn every letter twice.

Developing a sore hand was the catalyst for stopping; it had been a long time since she'd written so much. It kind of felt like she was back in school again. At Sorean's suggestion, the two went up to the fourth floor for her introduction to television, both sitting in the same couch in front of the large screen on the wall.

Sorean prefaced the exercise with a question. "You said that the Homs have not yet achieved transmission of images as with radio. But otherwise, what is the current state of your visual media?"

"Uhm, well... I mean, we have a cinema in Colony 9. The films are all black and white, but something the cinema owner likes to do is hold ether crystals up to the projector to paint colour over a scene. I think if someone figured out how to do something like that when recording we might get colour films. But yeah last I heard no one's got a clue how to send it through the air like radio."

"Do you have a preferred genre of film?"

Clara immediately switched from thinking hard to flowing freely. "You bet. Arids. Man, the sheriff busting into the saloon gets me every time. And the shootouts just...I dunno, seeing a pair of gunslingers trying to outduel each other is so satisfying."

Sorean had to think for a bit before he grasped the connection. "Ah, yes. We call that genre Northerns. It has never been quite as popular as other themes, primarily due to our gun culture being much weaker than that of the Homs."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that too. A lot of Homs in the Defence Force have gun training even if they don't carry one around all the time, but all I see in security around here are rapiers and such." Inspiration struck. "Y'know, maybe I should have a gun then, have that be my surprise defence weapon. No one'll expect it."

"Indeed, that is a prime insight. But back to the subject at hand."

Sorean reached for a nearby end table and picked up a small handheld device covered in buttons. "Television is much like radio in that it is divided into many stations, numbered and named for recognition. But for the convenience of the partaker, you need not touch the device directly to control it: this remote control allows distant swapping of channels or manipulation of other features."

Clara had a thought. "Uh, so if it's so much like radio, why push me to use it for culture-learning instead of the actual radio? I mean, wouldn't it make more sense to start me with something I already understand?"

"That is a reasonable thought process. But not only is television both visual and aural, it is the more popular and varied medium. We have found that there is generally very little barrier for a Homs to understand it."

"Okay then." Clara cautiously took the remote held out for her. "So, um, what should I start with?"

"I have no recommendations. Follow your instincts."

Slightly nervous, Clara pressed only the button with a three on it. After a short delay, the television flared to life, lighting up a sharp blue before displaying a news program with two anchors at the desk.

"...another scoreless draw, coach Heruthio promises changes will be on the way," the middle-aged man on the left was saying. "And now for the weather, with Yaro Dat."

The camera cut to a slightly younger man standing in front of a large render of Eryth Sea from above, with semi-transparent clouds covering the southern side. "Thank you, Fev. It looks like we've got a decently-sized system coming in from the south over the next few hours. Cloud cover should reach the city at about three-thirty, with light rain on the way more into the evening. Expect a dull and chilly day tomorrow with a high of sixteen. Now for your five-day forecast..."

Clara felt like a whole new world had been opened up to her - this "television" thing combined the visuals of cinema with the timeliness of radio. She immediately felt herself desperate to try and find a movie on another channel, but held it in for now - watching the news would be more beneficial at the moment.

She watched the continuous news report for about an hour. Nothing particularly unusual was happening - it was all the same kind of news she'd heard on the radio before. But having visuals to go along with it made it seem more real, more like there was actually a living city outside the palace. After a bit, Sorean showed her how to activate the closed-captioning feature, which would theoretically help with learning to read Erythscript.

Sorean decided it was time to stop. "I believe that should be enough for now. There are other things to show you today."

"Oh okay." Clara looked over the remote control for a "power" or "stop" button, eventually correctly guessing that it was the uniquely-coloured one near the top labelled with a geometric symbol instead of a number or letter. The television faded to darkness.

"I recommend that you either use the radio or the television for at least half an hour a day, to both keep current on events and become immersed in our culture." Sorean looked toward the smaller screen on the desk across the room. "But for now, it is time to use the computer."

Presuming it would be the right move, Clara got up and moved to the chair in front of the computer desk. Sorean followed and chose to remain standing over collecting a chair from elsewhere.

"The computer is the pinnacle of consumer-level technology," Sorean explained. "Originally developed as a means to accelerate complex mathematical calculations, it now has a wide variety of features, including typing letters, analysing data, controlling databases, and virtual entertainment. In a sense, it can be simply described as a machine with a limited brain."

Clara wanted to ask something but forgot what it was after hearing the last sentence. "So, like a Mechon?"

"That...is a difficult question to answer." He gazed over the device. "It is possible, though difficult, for us to create a drone that behaves much like a Mechon. But we cannot say for certain whether it is inferior, equal, or superior, as it is almost impossible to hold a direct comparison. And despite the best efforts of our brightest and most brilliant minds, we cannot foster a true artificial intelligence, a consciousness more than simply a machine executing a complex series of instructions." He paused. "Some say that the Bionis itself prevents its children from creating artificial life. They believe that the answer, the key to truly living and thinking machines, is guarded by the Mechonis. And I daresay there would be no secret she would guard more fiercely."

Uh, okay, that got a bit high-thinking fast. Back to reality please? "...So this computer. It can type letters like a typewriter?"

Sorean nodded. "Indeed. I will show you how to produce a typed document with it, and from there you should be able to explore more organically."

Clara watched intently as he pressed the key in the top-right corner of the keyboard. After a few seconds, the screen lit up and displayed a symbol resembling a circular skylight, with small Erythscript text quickly flashing along the bottom. A short time later, the screen turned to a lightly-clouded sky with several unfamiliar boxes and icons placed about, though now with the text readable to her.

Sorean tried to keep the technical details to a minimum as he explained. The base of the computer was called Skylight, version Aqua, with a relatively new feature for displaying text in Common (which could be disabled later if desired). The mouse, a previously-ignored rounded handheld object, moved a pointer around the screen and clicked on icons and buttons to make things happen. The program for typing was called Scribe and had many features that could be ignored for now.

Clara looked over the virtual sheet of paper on the screen, templated with the necessary constructs for a letter. Getting here was pretty complex and glazed her over a bit, but now it was just like a typewriter, though with the seemingly-magical ability to insert into or even delete existing type. It would take a bit to get used to it.

She didn't really have much idea of what to write, so she settled on a few pangrams she knew and started to peck. The keyboard labels were all in Erythscript, and from what she could tell no letters were where she expected them to be, presumably organised according to the Hightongue frequency chart. Much trial and error, plus copious use of the backspace key, eventually produced the intended result. She felt like this immediate feedback, more than anything, would help her learn the native alphabet.

After a bit of typing, she started to poke at some of the program's basic features. The ability to change the colour of the text amused her, while she figured the spellchecker would be the most useful. But while it was all very interesting, she was starting to get a bit tired of sitting around staring at a screen. She was still a little sore from yesterday, but she still wanted to get up and do something.

"I think I'm done with this for now. If...if that's okay."

"By all means." Sorean backed away so she had room to get up. "The computer will turn itself off after a period of inactivity."

"Great." Inspiration struck. "I want to have a look at the garden, maybe draw some ideas for changing it."

Without waiting for a response, Clara took some paper and a pen and headed downstairs. On the way through the second floor, she took hold of the first book she saw that had flowers on the cover and continued down to ground level. Sorean followed without word.

The gardens were being watered when she arrived, courtesy of a series of rotating sprinklers stationed around the edges. Each nozzle was carefully configured so not a drop of water would fall outside the plot, guaranteeing that no observer could get wet unless they leaned over the boundary.

Clara spent the next while wandering around the garden, looking through the gardening book for ideas. She couldn't really read any of the text, but she could copy down the names of flowers she liked the appearance of, making notes about their style and colour. While at first she just wanted to get rid of the smelly Ether Roses and replace them with something else of similar colour, it didn't take long to draw out a rainbow spectrum of twelve different species, forming a radial gradient of colour across each quarter of the plot. It seemed pretty ambitious, but to an extent it felt like no possible arrangement was beyond a fleet of royal gardeners.

Sorean simply sat on a bench and watched Clara plan and dream. She wondered what he was thinking about; he couldn't just be doing absolutely nothing for this long. Maybe he was coming up with some gardening suggestions of his own.

Every now and then, she would look beyond the gardens, at the perfectly kept lawn, trimmed trees, and other non-flower decorations about the villa's grounds. Something in her mind felt that all that stuff was probably best left alone, that the gardens were the focus of the area and should be treated as the only customisable component. She wondered how much the place had changed across history - in theory, the villa would be empty for most of the time given the shorter Homs lifespan, so at least there was plenty of opportunity for a complete redesign between generations.

Clara spent the rest of the afternoon working on her gardening designs, wanting to start off her presence in the villa with a strong mark.

The dinner hall looked just the same as the last time Clara had been there, with every chair and utensil placed in exactly the same locations. It felt a bit surreal.

She couldn't just wait for the rest of the family without making conversation with Sorean. "Wow, it all looks exactly the same."

Sorean didn't shrug, but radiated an impression as if he had. "We hire only the top professionals to work for us. They would walk themselves out if one speck were to be out of place."

"Doesn't it get...I dunno, boring? If everything's perfectly the same all the time?"

"Utensils and furniture are not the focus of meals. As long as the food and conversation are unique, the rest does not matter."

"Well, I guess that makes sense."

Entirmina entered the hall, wearing a dress with a completely different design than the last time they had met, covered in swirls of several dozen blues. "Good evening, Clara. I presume you've been busy the past few days?"

"Most definitely." Clara quickly considered what-all she had done lately. "The skydiving stuff yesterday, and a bunch of...uh, technology introductions today. It's a process."

"It most certainly is, to learn in a few short years what those born here grow into over several decades."

Kallian entered the hall next, immediately followed by Yumea. It was clear that neither of them were very happy with the other at the moment. They both sat down in a huff without acknowledging anyone else.

Clara had been hoping to ask Kallian at their next dinner together if he knew anything about gardening or had a favourite kind of flower, but it looked like it would be difficult today unless the mood made a sharp turnaround.

With everyone seated, the food arrived in short order. Today's dinner was some sort of haddock with beans, potatoes, and peas. Clara didn't like seafood all that much, but it was still difficult to claim that this meal was not tasty.

The first sentence of dinner conversation went to Entirmina. "Clara, last time you dined with us, we mostly told you about ourselves. So how about tonight you tell us about yourself?"

"Uhm...well..." Clara didn't feel like anything she could say about herself would be of interest to anyone else, given that pretty much nothing from before a week ago mattered anymore. "What would you want to know?"

"Anything. It is not often we have a chance to converse with a Homs, much less one from ocean level. Your experiences and opinions alike are sure to fascinate us."

Clara nervously leaned sideways a bit. "Maybe...you could give me a place to start? I mean, something more specific than just anything."

Sorean had a suggestion. "What are your interests? If you had complete freedom without obligations, what would you do?"

"Well, uh..." She didn't want to spend too long thinking, so she started with what'd she'd done just today. "Gardening. I've never really had the chance to work with more than one box of flowers at a time, so having a big patch in front of the villa looks like a lot of fun. I don't really know what I'm going to do with it yet because...because I don't really know what's possible yet, I guess. Probably a lot of things. Right now I'm just thinking to throw down a bunch of different types and colours to figure out what some favourites are. Do...you have winter here, or is it just warm all year?"

"The Bionis' head does experience cooler months opposite the warmer ones," Entirmina answered, "and while it is not as cold as his legs and feet, it is enough for plants and animals to have a yearly cycle of activity."

Clara nodded. "Okay, so there'll still be some waiting around for the right planting and growing seasons then. I was hoping otherwise but not really surprised. I mean, I guess it would get boring if the weather never changed."

"If I may make a suggestion," Sorean said, "I would like to see some flowers from your homeland in your first designs. It will be no trouble for us to procure them."

"Oh really? Well...I was kinda hoping to fill it with stuff new to me to start with. But I guess a mix should be fine. Yeah, it'll be...fitting, and stuff, to bring in old things with new things. Put them together, see what works."

"Speaking of your homeland," Entirmina said, "I am interested to hear more about your family. I know you don't believe it is of much importance now, but we hold a firm interest in tracing the roots of our family tree as wide as can be known. After all, you will need to learn many intricate details of our family as part of your culturalisation here - now may be the best time for you to do the opposite, while it is still fresh in your mind."

Clara couldn't really disagree with anything that had just been said, and to be honest she did kind of want to get it out of the way early if it couldn't be avoided. She spent a moment to get her thoughts in order before starting.

"My dad's name is Ralph. He was in the Defence Force for a while as a soldier but lost his arm in an accident when I was nine, so he can't do much real work now. It was tough for him to just sit around for a few years before he got used to it, but it means I got to see him a lot more than before. Lately he's been trying writing and poetry but can't get much traction. He's got good ideas when he explains them out loud, he just can't get them down on paper right."

"My mum's name is Nee. She's been a cook for the Defence Force since Dad lost his arm, and sometimes a nurse if they really need it. I don't think she likes it very much, but I've never heard her complain about it, and as long as nothing major is happening she always gets a few hours during the day to be at home. She's never really told me much about herself before I was born, so I think she doesn't like her past, or something big that happened in it."

"I have an Uncle Edward. Mum's brother. He's a farmer, grows mostly vegetables, we don't really see him because he's always busy. I get the feeling he doesn't like us all that much, but it's hard to tell if maybe he just hates being disturbed or taking time off."

"I...guess that's it. I mean, there's my dad's dad, Hewitt, but he's been dead since I was seven. Any other grandparents I don't know at all, and I don't remember any other uncles or aunts or whatever."

"So you have no siblings?" Entirmina mused. "How unfortunate. I believe it is a great disservice for a child to be without brothers or sisters. I hope I can do enough to fill that gap in your life."

Clara didn't agree - she felt being an only child had its advantages - but felt it was best to just accept with a nod for now.

Hmm. I could feel Yumea giving me dirty looks that whole time. She probably doesn't want to be reminded I'm not from a rich family. She wasn't born royal, right? Maybe I should show interest in her family.

"So what about you, Yumea? I've heard the basic story about the imperial family, so what's yours?"

For a moment, Yumea looked even more offended that Clara had chosen to speak directly to her. But her face almost instantly returned to indifference. "I hail from the house of Ilura. In accordance with our impressive historical predilection of marrying into the imperial family, we sit amongst the noblest, wealthiest, and most influential families." She returned to her food, with no apparent interest in taking follow-up questions.

"That's...impressive." Clara felt obligated to at least respond, but couldn't see any reasonable way to get any further information at the moment. Hopefully at some point she'll be less of a stuck-up towards me.

Already finished his meal, Kallian put his utensils down rather roughly. "Excuse me, Father, but I must go and continue working on my essay." He didn't wait for a response before standing up and hurrying out.

Sorean shook his head. "Yumea, why must you tread so strongly upon Kallian's choice of interests?"

Yumea's face stiffened. "He can report on the history of chess all he wants, but to shoehorn in research on any variants thereof from societies outside ours is a waste of his time and effort."

"That is one mother's opinion. Much like our societies, Homs chess is more similar to ours than it appears, and studying one can be equally as intriguing as the other."

A nasal scoff. "We shall see whether his instructor agrees."

Clara felt it best to not get involved. Man, if only this wasn't my first month here, I'd be able to give Kallian a positive opinion that he might listen to. But right now I can't just go to his room and offer because he'll just shoo me off. And I don't know anything about chess anyway, so it'd just be generic stuff like "your opinion is fine" or whatever.

"Mr. Eldor is somewhat of a loose grader," Entirmina said. "I'm sure you have noticed how well Kallian's grades have held despite his recent disinterest in the subject."

"Kallian's deprioritisation of history does not affect his efforts," Yumea countered. "He is not foolish enough to stop caring."

Sorean noncommittally tilted his head back and forth, not wishing to extend the topic.

It didn't take much longer for the meal to conclude. After everyone stood up at about the same time, Yumea left quickly, still apparently slightly upset.

Entirmina looked to Clara. "You will continue to be busy for the next few days as well, I presume."

"Yeah probably. I figure it might be a week or so before I get actual not-exhausted free time during the day."

"Of course. I wish you luck in your continued learning." She left.

Clara turned to Sorean. "What kind of stuff do you do after dinner? I mean I'm guessing there's no royal business to take care of at night."

"True and false," Sorean responded. "I find the relative quiet of the evenings to be a perfect time to focus attention on certain imperial issues. But most of the time, we follow our own hobbyist pursuits. It would be short-sighted of me to try and explain what any other member of the family does. As for myself, I prefer to simply read."

"I...guess I'm not surprised. Maybe I'll be a reader too, since trying to garden after dark won't do much. Well, I can't read yet, but when I can." An idea. "Hey, do they put films on the...the television in the evening?"

Sorean nodded. "Indeed, it is the primary time to do so."

"Great, I'd like to go do that. Find something that looks interesting, turn on the...the screen words thing, it'll be kind of like reading."

"Excellent. I shall accompany you then."

"You...you will?" Clara's evenings had been spent alone so far, which had been a mix of relieving and lonely, so she didn't know what to think. "Didn't you just say you have other stuff you like doing?"

"It has been a great while since I have had the pleasure of sitting alongside someone who is experiencing a film for the first time," Sorean replied. "And you may need someone to explain idioms and references that are taken for granted. It will be a great boon to your learning."

"Well...all right then." It was an excited "all right" rather than a dejected one.