Yuletide
Posted on 11 Dec 2022 @ 4:43pm by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Volchok, Trading Center, Terran Sector - Ferengi Space
Timeline: Backstory: Winter 2379
1255 words - 2.5 OF Standard Post Measure
Brek, whose spirit these past few days had plummeted into the proverbial Pit of Immense Gloom, was walking back home, from work. This week, work meant an eight hour stretch in Asax’s warehouses, where he was performing a thorough inventory of his employer’s merchandise. It was a mind-numbing task and he was cold, both inside, despite his fur coat, and outside.
Outside was a trading center covered with a thin layer of snow. He had enjoyed it for a couple of days - had been amused by the crunching sound his footsteps made on the frosty ground - but now the sight of that white powder contributed to his lack of glee. Everywhere he looked, the landscape was either white or black. No subtlety anywhere, just brutal monotony.
Talking to his friend Neph would have brought instant cheer. He could have explained to him the source of his plight: He had had the impudence to smile to Asax’s daughter. Brek had meant nothing by that. The smile had been innocent. A polite reflex, nothing more. But Mr Asax had painted him as a pervert, hence his exile to the warehouses.
Sadly, Neph invariably ended his discussions with mentions of sending him to Risa, as if that planet was some kind of magnificent Eden where only joy existed. Hogwash, all of it. There would be profiteers there too... Fortunes made and fortunes lost for he unlucky ones...
While his thoughts were running in dark circles, his feet brought him to a place where exuberance had not been obliterated: the Terran Sector. Normally as boring as any other settlement, these days those Earthlings were bursting with activity. They were celebrating a sort of Tree Festival, which they also called Christmas or Yuletide. Brek had read a few things about this tradition, but this intense period of gifting made little sense to him.
He now stood in front of a giant green and white pine tree (easily 7ft tall) decorated with golden baubles and garlands. Also, at its foot were ten parcels, wrapped in white paper. Brek stared at the scene, agape, not sure whether he found the view horribly tacky or tastefully arranged. One thing was sure though: those bright lights (hundreds of them), they did wonder to lift his mood, and a smile slowly crept onto his face.
That was until a tall and lanky Hewmon with a long face, noticed his presence. “Get away from here!” The man shouted. “For your information, those parcels are empty. Nothing for you to steal here, then. Go back to your kind!”
Brek was too staggered to move. Volchok was a Ferengi planet. If someone ought to leave, it would be those Hewmons. Also, it was difficult to take this Hewmon too seriously because he was wearing a woolly hat decorated with two little antlers.
“Leave him be, Per,” a woman called out from the threshold of what was best described as a colonist pod: a grey unit with only two windows. There were several of them in the area. Those small habitations had emerged from the ground, like so many dull beetles. “This one is harmless.”
She was wearing white clothes, and Brek wondered if she was, maybe, a scientist. He looked at her with puzzlement, because to be called ‘harmless’ wasn’t, in his opinion, a fantastic compliment. Still, those words had silenced Per, and Brek was quite happy to stay there and admire the magnificent tree. All those lights, they were mesmerizing. They fooled you into believing that under their spell, everything could be possible.
“Is it what you call art?” Brek wondered aloud, hoping Per would hear his words. “Something that is neither utilitarian or political? What is known as ‘eye candy’?”
Per observed him, as flummoxed as if one of the horses that he kept at the back of the settlement, had spoken to him. “Art is what we make of it, young man. So for you, this tree is possibly attractive and certainly meaningless. For me and my people, it has deep connotations. It is the symbol of an ancient Terran tradition.” He sighed. “I could explain it to you, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand.”
“Because I’m Ferengi?”
“There is nothing sacred for your people, except for latinum,” Per continued rather harshly. “And that’s a fact. If one of you got the idea that this tree here could turn up a profit, you would steal it, right under my nose.”
“You don’t give us enough credits,” Brek countered. He touched one of the baubles in the tree. Was it edible? “If we took your tree, you might get fed up with our antics and leave Volchok. We would lose your trade then, and the taxes you pay for the privilege of living on our planet.”
“No doubt about it. Your kind enjoys being forthright when you know you’ve got the upper hand. Ram it in, don’t you?”
Brek chewed on that for a minute or so, thoroughly convinced now that there was nothing on the tree that could be eaten. At times, he had read, Hewmons put chocolates among such decorations, but, alas, not here. “Would a Ferengi be treated better on Earth? I doubt it.”
“Are you going to stay here long?” Per asked with a sigh that was as heavy as an expletive. “I have so many important things to do...”
“Yes, for I have many questions. You said Christmas is an ancient tradition. How much has it been perverted since it first emerged? I gather it first came about before Terrans had electricity or even such elaborate decoration as you put in your tree. Did your species already celebrate this festival when your ancestors lived in caves and their main activity was to hunt big woolly proboscideans?”
“Probo... what?” Per scratched his head. “Lena!” He called. “That little Ferengi there, he seems to think he is a member of the great inquisition. I can’t deal with him anymore!”
Lena reappeared on the threshold of her little pod and motioned for Brek to join her, which he was happy to do, as she looked more pleasant than her companion. Moments later he was sitting in a warm kitchen in front of a cup of cinnamon and orange tea.
"So you are interested in our Christmas traditions," Lena started. "It is all about bringing happiness to others. It is as simple and as difficult as that. Would you like something to eat?"
"Yes, please." Once she had presented him with a slice of ginger cake, he resumed the conversation. "Why do that only one day per year? And why did you place a festive tree outside, and not inside your house?"
"It's called sharing," she told him, looking perfectly amicable.
"Your sharing could be seen as an attempt at corrupting young Ferengi minds, by imposing your Terran traditions on our planet."
A little frown appeared on her face. "Life and cultures are meant to be mixed. Look at it this way, your people brought latinum to every quadrant. You wouldn’t think of it as being imposed. It is proposed. You take it, or you leave it. Do not torture yourself too much. There are times when the best thing to do is to enjoy the present moment. Be in the here and now, at peace with yourself."
He was tempted to resist and ask more questions, but her pleasant smile convinced him to eat, and keep quiet...
