Great Oracles
Posted on 22 May 2025 @ 12:45pm by Brek
Edited on on 29 May 2025 @ 12:37pm
Mission:
M4 - Falling Out
Location: Location: Location: O.C - Conference Lobby
Timeline: MD 27 1510HRS
932 words - 1.9 OF Standard Post Measure
“I’m sure we are safe. But just in case,” Kyrill’s father added, his voice less than sure, “maybe we should find out what’s going on. Isn’t it your friend the ferengi, over there, talking with Commander Zahn? You should go over and ask them a few pointed questions.”
“I can’t do that,” Kyrill muttered. There was no way he was going to make a nuisance of himself in front of the Commander. Even if the whole station was on fire, he wouldn’t ask questions. “Besides, you’re always telling me I spend too much time with Mr Brek.”
“I never said any such thing. It’s your mother who’s always going on about it. Go on, have a word with the... Brek.”
Kyrill huffed and took a few slow steps towards the Ferengi and the Commander, with no intention whatsoever of joining them. Procrastination was as good an art as pointillism and he excelled at it. Unpleasant situations, he had learned, could often be discarded, avoided and ultimately ignored. Because problems, they didn’t always need a solution. If you let them be, they sometimes resolve themselves just like that, without effort.
Effort, however, was often on the agenda. Just being here for instance had taken a lot out of him. Without his mother insisting that he follows his father - who was scheduled to make a presentation on drones - he would be spending his day with Bajeem, a great artist and fun friend. Time would be wasted, or so adults would say. But are you really wasting your time when you are having fun? Isn’t it better to have fun at 17 rather than wait until you are wiser and obviously much older?
The curious thing was that he hated everything about this conference. The security checks, the programme, the people, the fact he had been forced to wear a suit while his father had been allowed to dress as usual, which implied yellow overalls with a ridiculous number of pockets. Even a clown wouldn’t wear that sort of thing, but his dad, he sure loved to stand out in bright clothes.
The teenager made a long detour to avoid a cluster of security officers. Oddly enough though, as soon as the talks had started and there were mentions of quantum mechanics and singularities and space travel, he got hooked. He enjoyed listening to the engineers and scientists. It’s a bit of a surprise when you find yourself happy against your wishes. It’s a reminder that, when you least expect it, life can be fun and interesting. Sadly his dad had ruined everything by talking about his future and how important it was not only to choose a good career path but also to stay on it. His mother had said this and that and the other and it was wise to listen to her.
Why did it have to be this way? Why did both him and his father always have to listen to that woman? The Great Oracle of the Novikov Stronghold. There wasn't a thing she didn't know. Would his life always be plagued by his mother’s don’t-do this, do-that, and-be-careful?
Honestly, he would rather listen to Mr Brek. When you speak to him, you enter another world where everything is good for business, except generosity. A world where friendship is frowned upon, only it isn’t really. What happens is that relationships are built according to how much you can gain from them. Or, put another way, when the deal looks fair, you haven't searched hard enough for hidden profit. It is also a world where nothing is ever definitive. A yes can become a no and vice-versa, according to wild fluctuations.
You would think then that Mr Brek and Mrs Novikov would dislike each other with a vengeance. But they actually got on famously well. That’s something he couldn’t understand. In fact, a few days ago, while he was complaining about her, the art dealer had told him that he would have been happy to have a mother like Mrs Novikov. This is on account that Brek’s mother is like a ghost. She never cared for him. And when you grow up in that kind of absence, well, a loving mother is the best treasure you can ever have. Yep. Mr Brek is always funny like that. Not that he is too deprived of course because he’s got that grandmother of his who is also like a great oracle.
That day, he had spent several hours thinking about Mr Brek’s mother. Who was she, what was she doing? He wanted her to be mysterious and complicated. But a five minute search had revealed that the Ferengi woman was a plain as a blank canvas. She was living in the shadow of her husband, who ran a small souvenir shop called "The Gilded Knick-Knackery". There was nothing particular about her. Maybe that’s what Mr Brek had meant when he had called her a ghost. It could even be that he was ashamed of his origins. Who would brag about their parents running a trinket shop with that name?
It proved a point though: the importance of being on the right track. So when the doors to the dining hall opened, Kyrill decided he would become an expert in force fields for physical interaction and their safety protocols. In other words, he would become an engineer in holographic systems. What was there not to like about that?
