Beautiful and Meaningful
Posted on 08 Apr 2023 @ 7:36am by Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Brek’s Quarters
Timeline: MD10 - Afternoon
1873 words - 3.7 OF Standard Post Measure
After failing to catch up with Moon, Brek had gone to his quarters. He needed to think about his options, about which direction his life might take. In true Ferengi style, he had not entirely disliked his encounters with Messers Bernard, Fulcrum & Gilroy. As old fashioned as they were, it had been revitalizing to talk business with them; To quibble over everything; To fight to have the last word. It made him feel young again.
To be young again... Obviously, being in his mid-thirties he wasn’t too crusty. Not yet. But he was certainly not as spontaneous and unpredictable as Moon. The young woman, he felt, had no sense of propriety. She barged in, insisted on telling everyone what was on her mind, and then she vanished like a strange spirit.
Still, she was fun. Although he might not think so if she wasn’t about to marry the Station’s new CDO. Without this excellent connection of hers, he might have shown less patience towards her.
“But that would have been a mistake,” he told himself in a whisper as he removed his shoes - those were black and shone so much, you could see your reflection in them, but they weren’t in the least comfortable. “Because if I want this Civilian Affairs position, I’ll have to keep that bright smile of mine, and be as helpful as a ... good Samaritan.”
That word made him shudder and he flopped into his couch. Being blue and yellow, Hewmon visitors often compared it to a giant caterpillar. The imagination of those people...
With his bare feet on a royal blue rug (with an Aubusson design, 30% off, bought while he lived on SB 520) Brek now turned his attention to his family and the genealogy file that his grandmother had sent him several years ago. It took him nearly an hour to dig it up, among thousands of documents in his possession. Every event, contracts (including those that had been cancelled), and even his half-baked ideas from the 80’s, everything was stored in various databanks. This way, if, when he was truly and properly crusty, say in 60 years, he decided to write his memoirs, he already had everything stored, though it could do with a better organization..
He displayed his family tree - a mighty document that covered 500 years - on a large screen. As he followed the multiple branches, underbranches, boughs, forks and twigs on which his ancestors and contemporaries ‘resided’, time disappeared entirely. Paying real attention to those people for the first time in his life, he discovered that, on his mother’s side (the only one he could be sure of) he had nine uncles and aunts, and something like thirty cousins. Now that made him feel dizzy. Just imagine any of them, knocking on his door to ask for latinum in the name of family relationship?! What a relief then, that among Ferengi, relatives were to be treated like lowly employees.
“Still, there are things,” he mumbled, “that are better left in the dark. Unknown and unseen.”
One those was the fact that his grandmother (Ara) had married seven times and none of her wealthy husbands had survived their encounter with her. His own grandfather (Ara’s 4th husband) had perished in 2338, two years after marrying Ara, in the explosion of one of his factories, on Ferenginar. The last husband had died at the onset of the Dominion war, in 2373.
What an odd thought. Aged 13 back then, with a different set of circumstances, he could have met that man. Could have talked about Ara and her past. Was she as dangerous as he had always imagined her, or was it just made-up beliefs, which she cleverly spread to appear more important?
He went on to collect information on the fatal accident that had cost his grandfather’s life, (a sordid case that had involved the authorities and had lingered in court for 10 years) when someone called at his door. The sound of that chime, dragging him back so abruptly to the present, gave him a fright.
He checked the security system to see who it was, half expecting to find some henchman sent by his all seeing granny. Instead he was relieved to see a hewmon face. Mrs Ingeborga Novikov was there, wearing a lot of jewellery along with white clothes that showed her shoulders, forearms and ankles. He would call her style elegant, but was it? Maybe that, if Moon saw her, she would say that the businesswoman looked like a tart...
In any case, for the sake of working toward a position within Civilian Affairs, he decided to be delighted by her presence and he promptly invited her in. As she did so, she stared at his bright orange jumper for a couple of seconds, but she had the decency to focus instead on the look of his quarters, which she said - probably to be polite - were charming.
“Yes,” he echoed. “I happen to like bright colors.” (Everything was either blue or yellow, including the furniture). “What can I do for you, Mrs Novikov? I hope it doesn’t concern your son. His behaviour, of late, has been impeccable.”
“Indeed,” She said, with a nervous smile. “Who would have thought that bringing a Ferengi into his life would have such a positive effect on him? He was even talking the other day about brightening his painting style a little. A lecture you gave, recently, on pointillism, whatever that is, impressed him.”
“Well, pointillism brings luminosity,” Brek added. “And light obviously, dispels darkness.”
“Quite, dispelling is also an art, I suppose.” She looked around, looking like she was wondering whether to sit, and if so, where? The couch was out of the question, littered as it was with PaDDs and memory sticks. And then she noticed what was on display on the large screen fixed to the wall. “Are you tracing your family history, Mr Brek?”
He switched the screen off. Although everything on his genealogy tree was written in Ferengi and the chances that Mrs Novikov could decipher those glyphs were slim, he didn’t feel comfortable exposing his roots so openly.
“You know what they say: curiosity is one of the great secrets of happiness.”
“A baboon must have said that,” Novikov said, losing her smile. “I know many instances where knowing too much proved fatal. But I didn’t make this long detour to your quarters to contradict you, my dear Brek. I need your help, and it is terribly urgent.”
Brek grinned at her lack of consistency: a woman in dire need of help, who instead of asking what she wanted directly, wasted time in small talks. “Tell me then, how can I help?”
“I am due...” she glanced at the clock on the wall, a grand affair with several metallic bars around the clock’s face, “to join a business party in 20 minutes, and I need to bring a gift with me. I thought you would let me have one of your paintings. It’s for a wealthy guest who already has everything. I’m sure you know the type.”
“I’m the personification of this very type, my dear Mrs Novikov,” Brek was quick to reply, now trying to figure out what kind of painting he could sell her. “You’ll want something that conveys an image of wealth and power. Does the recipient enjoy sports? Is he a rural or urban man?”
She gave him an imperious glance. “It is a she.”
“Obviously. What was I thinking?” He took one of the PaDDs that were on the couch, and he consulted it for a few seconds. “So we want something that’s both beautiful and meaningful. Does she like nature or is she into cityscapes?”
“Both.”
“Clearly,” he said absentmindedly as he continued to peruse his catalogue. It was at times like this that he realized he never had enough paintings. “What do you make of those, here?” He added after a little while, holding his PaDD towards her.
She flicked through titles such as “Tokyo by Night”, “An Evening in Vendras”, “Street Reflections”, or “Twilight in Nareq'mor”.
“Hmmm, what would you recommend? If you are able to select something for its merit and not solely based on its high price? I don’t want anything that shows even a hint of politics or religion. It cannot be a view that’s too recognizable either. Nothing Romulan at all. The vibes those paintings give are too sad.”
“Maybe this, then?”
Because her words had been insulting - he could resist the spell of selling stuff at outrageous prices - he showed her a ridiculous image: a rural scene with an army of sheep gathered foolishly behind a low fence. The price was hilariously affordable.
“Mister Brek! How is this beautiful and meaningful? This is an image that breathes stupidity. I need a view that conveys the idea of ingenuity and elegance.” She glanced at him, maybe thinking that to go to a Ferengi for such a quest might not have been the brightest idea of the week.
“Well, maybe I don’t have anything suitable,” He added, taking his PaDD back. “As you know, I specialise in Romulan art. What you are doing, it’s like trying to find the best sushi dish in a bakery.”
“You would let me down?” She asked, sitting on the very edge of his couch.
“Why don’t you offer your guest a bottle of wine? Something expensive and memorable.” He countered, as he opened another file on his PaDD.
She shrugged. “It is too easy. And not very classy, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“Why is it that women always want complicated things?” He mumbled, his mind on the new set of paintings that he was exploring. “What about those here?” He added, as he gave the PaDD back to her.
“That’s better but...” she hesitated and then she noticed the time. She was 5 minutes away from her party. “Well... I’ll have this artwork here. Night Owl it’s called.” She got up. “Could you deliver it? I truly need to go now.”
She had opted for the skyline of a megalopolis by the sea side, with yachts in the sea and the hint of red flowers on balconies.
“I can have it delivered to your door in thirty minutes.”
“That’s not very good is it?”
“Well, my gallery’s called ‘Timeless Treasures’, not ‘Time Travels’. I’m not a magician. The only perks I can give you, is some after sale service. I could deliver it in person, with a tale as to how this present is a bit late. But if I do that, it will cost you a little bit more.”
He typed a juicy figure on his PaDD and he showed it to her.
She coughed and then her trademark smile, showing what a nervous creature she actually was, resurfaced. “It looks like you are a Ferengi who never offers friendly prices. I shall remember that.” Yet as offended as she seemingly was, she transferred the money right away. “30 minutes, Mister Brek and your delivery speech had better be good!”
