A Nice Bargain
Posted on 25 Jan 2024 @ 1:44pm by Chief Petty Officer Ibis Xeri & Brek - Timeless Treasures Art Gallery
Edited on on 06 Feb 2024 @ 10:06pm
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
Location: Timeless Treasures
Timeline: Right after ‘As From Within’
3279 words - 6.6 OF Standard Post Measure
Brek emerged from his office in the company of Romulan Senator Thitur, with whom he was having a heated conversation. Now that the old politician had been able to obtain a painting called the ‘The Fall of Freljord’, (which would be delivered within the hour), Brek was refusing any further association with this client. Gently, but surely, he was directing him towards the front doors with forceful refutations. No. He would not accept payment to complete what Thitur described as a ‘simple mission’. He would not, either, travel to Planet Obsidian to deliver a package in what looked like the middle of the desert.
However, because there was someone in the gallery, Thitur refused to leave so soon and he stopped beside the would-be customer, who happened to be Ms Xeri.
“My dear Brek, it looks like you have made a new victim!” The Senator said, quite amused. “Those blank canvas of yours, they act like nectar to bees. They prove that curiosity is an excellent way to dispel boredom. Did you enjoy the experience, Ms? The beautiful colours and their mesmerising shapes?”
As if breaking away from a trance, Ibis looked at the man addressing her, his eyebrows pointed and his tone mocking.... There was a dumb distant expression on her features. Were her feelings.... beautiful? She felt crushed, gray and ugly, unlike what the canvas had portrayed, on the whole. "There was... so much color... and movement. The shapes dance..." It was insufficient trying to explain the sense of looking inside of oneself, almost as if she could hold her ribcage open in the mirror to see.
“I wish I had seen it. I really do.” Thitur replied. “A young person like yourself is bound to have a lot of spirit. It may not always look like it, but you are sure to have it in you. Liveliness cannot be trapped. Not even by my species. What I wouldn’t give to be in my thirties again! Brek, you don’t happen to know where I could find a time machine, by any chance?”
“That’s enough, Senator,” Brek added, as he gave a little push to the Senator, to keep him moving towards the door. “I’ll never forgive you if you scare one of my favourite customers! You need to go now.”
Now at the doors, the Senator turned round. “I’ll be back, Brek! I think that the two of us should have lunch together sometimes. You and I, we are meant to work together, and you know it very well. A Ferengi in denial is a poverty-stricken Ferengi.”
Once the troublesome Romulan had left the gallery, Brek rushed back to Ms Xeri, somehow concerned for her wellbeing.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that. The old senator likes nothing more than pestering me with his half-baked ideas. I swear he is trying to corrupt me.” He gave a forceful sigh and observed the Betazoid woman. She seemed a bit sad, but his mind was irresistibly attracted to the portfolio she was carrying. “Tell me you didn’t use those canvases. They are a bit special, and actually not ready for the public yet. I need to announce their purpose. You see, they reflect one’s emotions. And so it may not be a good idea to stay too close to them.”
"I... I was passing by and they startled me. They all filled at once," she explained as Brek was soothing her gently and moving her along, away from the spot where she had been so transfixed. "At first I was afraid and they scared me more, and they became more frightening. But when I ... I looked away, and back again, I realized, I was in a feedback loop of some kind. That they were sensing me somehow. It... it's a little like empathy. A representation of it, in any case."
“This is how this exhibition works,” Brek added, not sure he should keep those canvases. “It was designed by a Vulcan artist, as a scientific experiment, really. Not having much emotions himself, he wanted to see if moods could be rendered on a surface. The answer to that is a resounding yes, but I’ve received bad feedback about this. Some people think that this display is too intrusive. They don’t like it. Are you sure you are okay?”
"It's just surprising because, I... I lost my telepathic sense. I wasn't used to picking up minds or feelings anymore, much less my own turned in on me." Ibis' voice was wistful and a whisper. "But when I realized what was happening, I don't know I... I felt I could play with it. Like... making faces in a mirror."
“The sensors around those canvases aren’t that elaborate, you know,” Brek continued. “They are only tailored to read facial expressions, body language, changes in heart rate, breathing, skin temperature, and perspiration. Things that can be associated with different emotions, and they use a palette of colours to interpret what they’ve registered."
"Oh," Ibis seemed surprised that it was as simple as a visual algorithm and basic biometrics. She thought there would be some more intensive technology hidden within. But then, she had never been one to be very good at masking her feelings, telepathically or otherwise. "Just simple sensors?"
"It’s a bit gimmicky, and as you’ve said, it’s something we can easily play with, to see how our frames of mind might be depicted."
"It's very clever." Ibis said as Brek set about to making her comfortable in the office. "I thought it was kind of magical. But that was in my imagination."
"It’s still magic, even if you know how it’s done,” Brek said with a smile. “What matters is that you enjoyed the experience. Do you think that this kind of canvas could be helpful to you? And, before I get carried away with a sales’ pitch, would you like something to drink? My holo-assistant makes the most interesting teas.”
"It's very curious to me. I think I would like to show Wallace and the kids. Oh, uh, a little mint tea? With honey?" She set the portfolio out on the desk, still closed, as she looked around for the holo-assistant.
“Let your family know what to expect before you bring them here,” Brek said. “Some people are very touchy about their emotions. They don’t like it when they are exposed. I should know, I’m a bit like that myself.” He went behind his lavish desk, on which there were a few piles of old books, and he typed a few commands on a PaDD. Within seconds Nyasha, (dark skin, black hair, and wearing a bright blue dress) appeared, a tray in her hands.
“I brought basswood honey Mr Brek,” Nyasha commented, “it complements mint tea with a fruity flavour.” She placed the tray, and its two cups of tea, on the desk, and then she waited, motionless.
“My Nyasha, she knows everything she needs to know,” Brek added with a smile, “ and not one thing more.” This was essential, otherwise she wouldn't be allowed in this office. Yet he resented the fact that she had not thought of bringing a few biscuits with the tea. “So, I take it you have something for me, Ms Xeri?” he continued as he looked at the portfolio on the desk. “Have you produced some fascinating art?”
Ibis politely thanked the holographic assistant for the tea and had a drink. Mint helped the froggy feeling in her throat. She was ever whispering or feeling her throat tight so that all of anything she could say sounded dry or gravelly. The honey went down very nicely.
"I don't know that it's fascinating." She set the tea aside so as to make space to open the portfolio. Inside was a stack of thirty thick pieces of paper of the kind he had supplied her. A thin sheet of onionskin paper sandwiched between each to protect the surfaces. The paper set had come with thirty-six sheets, but she had ruined a couple as failed attempts and for testing out the media, and a few others were too personal to share, she felt. "But maybe there is someone who will find them interesting."
“I’m sure I will. There is a market for everything, you know.” He glanced at Ibis and he kept his next thought to himself: More importantly CPO Xeri, USS Sunrise survivor, was the most marketable artist he had seen in a while. People would be interested in what she had to say, whether it was with her voice, whispers or, as in this case, with shapes and colors on paper.
Ibis stared to lift the translucent onionskin page obscuring the first drawing. "I used a little of almost all of the supplies you sold me. So these are multi media..." All of the pages were in eleven by fourteen inches, making them somewhat intimate, like a large sketchbook. Ibis's style was one of building up gradually, with soft washes to start and then fine, delicate lining, with the build up of value and color to draw out form and tease out something approaching a stylized realism. It was a botanical artist's approach, in the vein of old plant identification books which she had poured over as a young adult, but very much adapted and unique to her.
The pages he leafed through were, by and large, akin to color plates of a naturalist's journal. Working mostly from memory, but with a little aid from the Korinn memory core cataloguing the planet, Ibis had reproduced some of the nature that she had been most intimate with in surviving on Korix. The bramble berry plants, the sea oat grass, the tiny biting rodents, the black water snakes, the species of kelp which had clothed them, whelk-like crustaceans, sponges they had dived for, and the crabs and fish they had eaten. Those pages were lightly lined with neatly spaced notes about the characteristics of each of the flora and fauna depicted at multiple angles and in cross section. She had often longed for the means to create these notes, and it had been the first thing to come out of her when she had paper and pencil fit to realize them with.
Intermixed with the nature depictions, were other pages without notes included. They were largely landscapes and still lives that came from her memory, embellished and expressive scenes: a sandcastle at dusk, rainbow bay with it's oilspot colors, the dune with the seashell grave markers casting long shadows, some figures in shadow diving from a rock into the sea, some of their shacks in kind of unrealistic colors and appearing to be a strange small city, a row of odd hand tools cobbled together from parts, and a strange artificial tree bearing buckets on each limb.
"I don't know if they would sell for very much," Ibis said hoarsely. "It's like a journal after the fact."
“Hmm...” Brek took his time to observe and analyse the critters and the seascapes that she had produced. They were certainly unique, elegant and delightful, with a tinge of desolation. They made you think, which is the hallmark of great art. His favourite one was the sandcastle at dusk. There was something about it, which, despite the bleak landscape, spoke of hope. If he wasn’t careful, he might very well want to keep it for himself, and miss out on a sale. “I won’t waste your time with yes, but, no and maybe... I would certainly buy every page of this journal. I can already visualise the exhibition I could produce with those pages. Are you sure, though, that you are ready for that sort of event? you will be put in the limelight...”
"I am already being pressed to make some kind of public statement." Ibis wrung her hands anxiously, thinking about Eloise surprising her with cameras running. "I don't trust the media. They will edit and sensationalize everything. People want to know what happened, but I don't want everything we went through to be reduced to soundbites."
“The media are alright when you need to manipulate them for your own advantage,” Brek said, thoughtful, as he noticed Xeri’s apprehension. “Other than that, they are a pest.” He remained silent for a few seconds, and he took a sip of his tea, which was more refreshing than he expected. “So I don’t see why we should throw you to the lions, so to speak. Quality art, like the one you are producing, works well with a bit of mystery. I have seen it done in the past, with great effect: the artist remains invisible and the public is left to understand that it is the artist's personal choice. They prefer to express themselves through their art, and nothing else. It gives an air of authenticity to the exhibition, and it is something that true art collectors appreciate. Few people, indeed, appreciate the media circus.”
Ibis relaxed. That meant he wouldn't expect her to be in front of cameras or entertain strangers. "You could... sell my drawings without me making appearances?"
“Well, on the other hand we don’t want you to be painted in a bad light. So you may have to contribute a little. Maybe you could record a message where you introduce the exhibition and talk about the images you’ve drawn and painted? You might even have to sign a few of those pages for vip buyers. Do you think you could do that?”
Ibis felt her throat constricting on her again and she regathered the tea to try and inhale the vapors. "I could. If you need them signed. I don't know about recording myself. Maybe... if I write it down? Like... a book?"
Brek took another sip of tea to let Xeri’s words sink in. “If it is the road you want to take. We might have to hire an orator to recite your lines. Someone who presents well and who can deliver those words with the right intonation, to give them justice. I’ll select a few candidates, and you’ll have to choose the one you think is most suitable.”
"Oh, yes." Someone who could perform the lines and had a nicer voice to listen to, that was probably for the better. "So we would have an illustrated book of the originals, and a narrated version." She summarized the idea, as much for herself as anything else.
“Now...” Brek stared at Xeri. “This brings us the next important point. How much money will we be able to make with your fantastic book? I usually take a 45% commission, and I get acid reflux every time I mention this. But you will find that most art galleries actually take 50%. On the other hand if you get commissioned to produce new art, the profits are entirely yours. Are those terms agreeable to you?”
"I... I don't want to work on commissions. I'm a botanist, not really an artist." She croaked with an embarrassed look as she sipped at the tea again for some relief. "I want to focus on the lab projects I am on. Actually, if I make anything on the originals and the books after your commission, I would want it to go to resources for the Korix recovery project." She cleared her throat, "Maybe we could sell some prints too."
Brek considered his tea and the idea of adding some rum to his cup crept into his mind. He should have known... Fleeters can’t help it, they always have a good cause to promote. It was all to their credit, of course, but their altruism had a tendency to make him feel bad and grubby. Because of course, ultimately, the higher his commission was, the less money would go to this Korix project. “Well, what you do with your part of the profits is entirely up to you, Ms Xeri. My role in this is to make sure that your exhibition is a complete success, which in turn will bring more funds to the Korinn. So let me see...”
He took a PaDD, on which he typed several figures for several minutes. When he stopped he glanced at the screen, in total dismay. Was there anything more sickening than reduced profits? He had to think of the future though. If it was ever revealed that he had taken advantage of Ms Xeri, his image would suffer. Likewise, if he didn’t turn up a profit, he would lose all credibility among his species.
He cleared his throat, “I will... red...” He hesitated a moment. “Reduce my commission to 35%. That’s the best I can do, taking into consideration the cost of the exhibition, its promotion, the speaker we’ll need to hire and the prints we’ll have to produce. Are you happy with those terms?”
A real smile lighted Ibis' dark eyes. She really hadn't expected the Ferengi to give out of his gallery commissions. She had always heard those were very high and hadn't been surprised to learn his were nearly half as well. It looked like a very difficult decision for him. "I am happy with those terms. Happy enough that I feel I'd like to also buy another block of paper from you, I think. I don't know what I will draw next, but it will be good to have the materials on hand."
“Great, we have ourselves another nice bargain there, in no time at all. That’s good business.” Brek said, with a slight grin. “I’ll fetch that block of paper for you. Don’t forget, indeed, to buy plenty of supplies from here, so that you can continue to produce your captivating images!”
When Ibis left, hugging a fresh bundle of hotpressed paper from the stockroom, she took another minute to stare into the canvas on the wall. The shifting pattern of colors was an interpretation of contentment, she thought, taking in a deep breath of the authentic new paper's distinct blend of rag fibers and archival binders.
She had found a way around the media circus that Agaia had been keeping at bay. They would read her story at the same time as everyone else. And whatever those reporters and media outlets might want from her, they would have to go through Brek's business acumen to get it. Once the press release for the show came out, the thought of the media dickering with Brek for more inside information amused her. She could imagine Eloise's surprise at Ibis choosing to tell her story this way instead of under the studio lights in a one-on-one exclusive.
In the meantime, she would be able to finish the personal letters she and Wallace had been working on to each of the families who had lost loved ones- their friends and crewmates from the USS Sunrise. Certainly the families had been informed by now of Starfleet's update of the personnel who were missing to instead being lost, and would have received the last logs on file which Wallace preserved for them. Still, she wanted to be sure that before she wrote the book for all the worlds to know, that they had properly shared their own words of memory with the grieving families directly. With closure for everyone else, Ibis felt maybe she could have some closure, too.
Fading back to it's blank state, the final impression on the canvas was more somber toned by the time she left the gallery, but no less beautiful.
