A Priceless Experiment
Posted on 21 Oct 2022 @ 8:29am by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Promenade - Timeless Treasure Art Gallery
Timeline: MD06 - 1620HRS
1258 words - 2.5 OF Standard Post Measure
Back in his office, Brek found himself staring at the picture of the Ferengi woman placed on his desk. Her name was Elia. A most pleasant creature, small and slim, with amber eyes that seemed to have the power to detect fibs and deceptions instantly. Her mind was as sharp as her teeth and it was always a delight to hear her discourse on any topic, even on those occasions where she had unpleasant things to say.
He had been struck by what hewmons called ‘love at first sight’: a series of neurochemical reactions had touched his brain, leaving him with one clear goal: to do right by her. Slowly but surely this willingness had turned into a silent crusade. So silent in fact that she knew nothing of his feelings. There was, in his opinion, no point in making his intentions clear until he had proven that he was a decent Ferengi. That is to say a Ferengi with piles and piles of latinum.
The only downside was that she had no wealth whatsoever and her past was not dissimilar to those Terran yarns penned by the likes of Dickens. He sighed. Daydreaming was counterproductive, and he had work to do. So much work! Now that his gallery was opened, he needed to do some serious and positive cold-calling. This implied imposing his presence everywhere with a cheerful, positive tone of voice - and a smile too. He also needed to finance his grand opening. Sadly, you can’t impress people without splashing latinum around you. Especially so when you have competition. So, how does one conjure up funds out of thin air?
You could beg or borrow. You could also go to the nearest casino and earn some decent cash. He wasn't in the mood for those kinds of activities, though. He needed a more elegant solution. One that would not tarnish his reputation.
The eureka moment came to him while he was eating a slice of green grape pie. He owned a lot of paintings. He could easily sell one of his less favorite ones and voilà, problem solved. He chose a Bajoran painting, valuable for its religious theme. It showed a group of pilgrims on a sailing boat, during a magnificent storm. There were ominous lightnings in a dark sky and the terrified expressions of the passengers. Maybe they had glimpsed a Borg cube in that sky, who knows? When you are on a pilgrimage, you need to suffer, otherwise it's a vacation.
He traced the painting, discovered that he had left it on SB 520, and so he contacted his old friend, Mrs Moreau, an art expert, just like him. She lived on that station and he counted on her to dispatch the canvas to their new owners - once the seascape had been sold.
The Terran woman took well over five minutes to answer his call. It was to be expected. She was French (an old European tribe, he had been told), and she wouldn't be rushed. When she finally appeared on his screen, (light brown, shoulder length, hair; striking green eyes, and her usual tired look. The one that plainly said 'whatever you want, I don't have time for your antics, Brek'), he plastered his most genial smile on his face and he made his request.
"I knew it wouldn't be long before you called."She said with her inimitable accent. "You always need something."
"So do you, Mrs Moreau. Is it not what friends are for? We give and take."
Moreau was still in business thanks to his latinum, but he had the good taste not to elaborate on how much she owed him.
"Peut-être [perhaps].” She continued. “So this painting, it will be in the collection room, with the other things you left behind. I should charge you for the storage space you are using. You know that.”
She stared at him as if she had just made a clever remark, whilst her words had sounded particularly stupid to his ears.
“If we start to talk about finances, there will be tears, Mrs Moreau, and they won’t be mine.” He added, his smile now gone. “Just focus on that Bajoran painting. Can you do that?”
She seemed to consider her options. “I can. So, how is your new life, Brek? Did you find what you wanted?”
“You make it sound as if I’m seeking something magical, something that’s out of reach. Whilst what I’m doing is building a new career for myself.”
“Because the old one didn’t suit you anymore?”
Brek scoffed. “At this rate, next you’ll be telling me that you miss me. You know very well where I stand. I needed a stronger Ferengi influence in my life.”
“And you found it on Obsidian Command?”
“I’m working on it,” he countered. “Whilst we are on that topic, what do you think of Ferengi art?”
“Ferengi art?” With her accent, the two words sounded exotic, extravagant even. “If it is what you are selling these days, Brek, please, don’t count me in. You will tell me, your people can paint. I accept that. So can the Nausicaans. Do you want their art on your walls? The answer is no, because a painting is not just a picture. The personality of the painter, as well as the culture they are from, are also important to buyers.”
“Hmm... so you are telling me that there is zero appeal for the culture of my people? I disagree and I may exhibit one or two Ferengi paintings, as an experiment,” he added. “And then we’ll know whether you are right or wrong.”
The Terran woman, who wasn’t easily amused, smiled. “It will be, I think, a priceless experiment.”
“How so?”
“It will be unique but it won’t bring you any riches. Unless you bribe people so that they buy that stuff. You could always do that, and then that artwork will sell like hot cakes.” Her amusement persisted, and he found that rather irritating. “Anyway, how are things on Obsidian? Made any friends yet?”
“Like everything else, it’s a work in progress. You see, O.C. is much bigger than SB 520. So much so that I haven’t explored it all yet. Also, for the record, I never use underhanded methods.”
“True. You don’t. Not publicly anyway.” She got up, and for the first time he noticed that instead of her casual ‘any-old-t-shirt-will-do’ style, today she was wearing a silk shirt. “I’ve got to go. Lt Tornquist is here. Remember him, from ops? He invited me to one of those events the Fleet likes to organize.”
“Of course I do. Isaak. Tall Terran guy. Collects shark soft toys and goes to origami competitions. I didn’t know you liked him?”
“I doubt we’ll ever be on a first name basis. Besides, I like to call him Lieutenant. Ranks are stylish, I find. Talk to you later Brek. I won’t forget the Bajoran painting you mentioned.”
His screen returned to the Ferengi Alliance logo, and Brek sighed heavily. Women... He had wanted to say a word about his competition and ask Moreau for advice, but she had ruined the moment by being busy. She had never been like that when he too had lived on SB 520. That puzzled him for two whole seconds, and then he realized that it was getting late and that he ought to get out there and explore the station further.
