Episode 28
Travelling Light E028S01 Transcript
H.R. Owen
Hello friends, Hero here, back with another trailer for your listening pleasure. This week I'm delighted to introduce Before the Tone, a science fiction horror from Knave of Hearts, with a focus on siblings, hallways that are too long, and the building dread of being followed. Stick around to the end of the credits to hear their trailer, or dive right in on your podcatcher of choice, and remember to tag them on Tumblr or Twitter @KnaveOfHeartsAD to let them know if you give them a listen.
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Twenty Seven.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
20th Lailo 850
To the community at Emerraine, who carry the Light.
Vermi was as good as his word. He sent me the contact details of his “friend” before the Tola left Nimidol yesterday for our supply run to Manacier Station, and I arranged to meet her once the Tola finished unloading.
As soon as the ship was docked and Operator Aman had word from the port authority officials, we were down in the hold, working alongside the hauler droids to lift crates and packages, scan manifests and bustle through the business of unloading.
At least, most of us were unloading. Óli had secured themselves a supervisory role, checking crates against a document reader while Aman spoke to the port officials and the rest of us did the heavy lifting.
Even with the port droids' assistance, it was hard work. I was flushed and sweating in my shirtsleeves when I lifted the final crate onto a hauler. I gave it pat to let it know it could go, and it beeped happily, trundling off with an air of contentment at a job well done that no inanimate object ought to be able to exude.
“That's the last of them!” I called to Óli and Aman, lifting the hem of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my face – not a very sanitary habit, I know, but I had no handkerchief.
“At least someone can find something to enjoy in all this,” said Annaliese, beside me. Her skin does not show a flush the way mine does, but her forehead shone with the effort of moving boxes in her chair.
“What do you mean, something to enjoy?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that someone's enjoying the view.”
I followed the direction of her not-so-subtle nod. Only Aman seemed to be paying us even the most cursory attention, as Óli tapped on their document reader, mouth twisted in fierce concentration.
“I suppose she thinks it fair recompense for causing the situation in the first place,” I said. “She has certainly been more forgiving towards me since I started work in the fish market – or at least, since I started coming home exhausted and stinking every so often.”
Annaliese looked confused for a moment. “She…? Oh, Aman! [laughs] Yes. Yes, that's just what I meant. Of course.”
I had enough time to wash and change my clothes before heading out for my meeting. As I reached the entry hatch, I heard my name from down the corridor.
“Where are you going?” asked Óli, coming up to meet me.
I did not wish to share the truth of my errand – it seemed to precarious to risk bringing into the light just yet. “Nowhere,” I said. “Just, uh… out. I expect to be back for dinner.”
Unsurprisingly, this did not satisfy. “Out? Out where? With whom?”
“With nobody. Why? What is the matter?”
A flash of expression crossed their face. “Nothing. I just… Well. That is… You have been very busy lately. I… I have not seen much of you.”
“I have been working. You know that.”
“You were not working the other day,” they pointed out, “when you went out with that new friend of yours.”
“Vermi? Yes, we went to an event together. Óli, if you would like to spend time together, you can just ask.”
They shot me a look as if I had said something unspeakably foolish. “I should not have to!”
As soon as the words were out, they snapped their mouth shut, looking appalled at themselves. Before I could stop them, they turned on their heel and stormed back in the direction of their cabin, leaving me as frustrated as I was confused.
“Of course you have to ask!” I called after them. “How the Light am I suppose to know otherwise?”
But they gave no sign of having heard. [sighs]
Impossible creature. If everyone in their home system is like them, it is a wonder anyone ever gets anything done. I suppose they conduct their trade deals through subtle motions of the eyebrow, and negotiate treaties by winking this way or the other.
The encounter did not leave me in the best mood for my appointment. Fortunately, Manacier Station is extremely large, and I had some time aboard the public transit system to calm down and gather my thoughts.
The teashop where we had arranged to meet was a very pretty spot full of potted plants and the smell of herbal blends hanging in the steamy air.
I have made a note to bring Annaliese there if I can, as it is just her kind of place – an excursion I shall arrange by the radical method of speaking my intention aloud to Annaliese, rather than stewing upon the matter alone in my cabin.
[sighs] No. I am getting distracted.
Vermi's contact was a woman called Aboday, and I found her sitting in a nook by the window, reading something on a handheld device. She was a small person with inky blue skin and an array of sparkling eyes across her forehead that flashed and glittered as she spoke.
She had a brisk, confident air about her, at once caring and business-like, and reminded me somewhat of a busy but highly capable medic, keen to do good work and do it quickly.
“Vermi says you're in a bit of a pickle,” she said, once I had got myself settled. “Let's see what we can do for you, hm?”
She tapped on her device, bringing up our earlier communication where I had described the helmet and given her what little information I had about its origin.
“I've sent this description to an informant of mine,” she said thoughtfully. “They say it looks like you're sitting on a Spréif Dynasty zischägge.”
“That sounds uncomfortable,” I said. Aboday ignored me.
“I think I know someone who might be interested,” she went on. “A collector I work with sometimes with an interest in galactic history. He's actually due back in the system any day now – Vermi mentioned time might be factor for you?”
I hesitated, the memory of the disaster on Koom still painfully fresh. “Yes, but we will need a good price, too. It is not enough to sell quickly. I-I must sell well.”
Aboday's eyes twinkled. “Don't you worry, love. I always sell well. What price you looking?”
“250,” I said firmly, remembering the price from the earlier deal. “Minimum.”
“Hmm. I'll tell him 800,” said Aboday, utterly casual despite the staggering sum. “That way he can haggle us down, feel like he's getting a good deal, and you'll have enough to meet your target – and cover my fee, of course.”
Several of her eyes closed and opened, and I realised she was winking at me. Then, quite of a sudden, she was standing, gathering her things together to leave.
“Is that-” I started. “Sorry, a-are we done?”
“Are we not? I'll see if my fella's interested, and get back with you to sort the rest out.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” She patted me companionably on the shoulder. “People always think breaking the law is more complicated than it is. Don't you fret, my love. I'll see you right.”
And then she was gone, leaving me sitting alone feeling rather like I had just had tea with a small and highly competent tornado.
I must think carefully about my next steps. I cannot afford to rush in and risk making everything worse. I said that I have not yet told the others about Aboday – I-I did not want to get anybody's hopes up. Perhaps now is the time to break that silence?
Oh but what if it all goes wrong again? [sighs] What if I tell them and I am humiliated in front of all of them, again.
Or… What if… Oh, my friends. You must forgive me this ridiculous, egotistical fantasy but… What if it goes right? What if I can meet Aboday's buyer and complete the sale and return to the Tola triumphant?
[sighing] I must not be hasty. It was haste that got me into this mess, and it will not get me out of it. I shall wait for Aboday to reach out and take the matter from there.
Oh, but… What if…?
[The click of a data stick being inserted into a drive that whirs as it reads]
The Traveller
Entry LA85020-4: A lullaby, collected while travelling on the public transit system on Manacier Station
Key words: children and infants; lullabies and cradle songs; Manacier Station; music; oral literature; public transportation.
Notes:
Before I get to the body of this entry, I must note that the lyrics have been transcribed from memory. I was not able to take a recording as I first heard the song as it was an impromptu performance and I did not have chance to ask the singer about including it in the archive.
The singer was a middle-aged, female Llamian. She wore her hair in the fashion preferred by married women, with several piercings to indicate she was the parent of multiple children. She was not, however, the parent of child to whom this lullaby was sung.
The child belonged to a Fierog person, and was an infant of remarkable determination and lung capacity. They had evidently set their little heart on breaking the tram's windows through sheer volume alone, and were setting to their task with vigour.
The child's parent was doing their best. They walked up and down the aisle with the baby in their arms, bouncing, jiggling, caressing and crooning, trying everything they could to calm the piercing cries.
Every so often, the baby would lapse into quiet grizzling sounds, offering a moment of reprieve – only to strike up crying again at some signal nobody else could discern.
After some long minutes of this, the Llamian woman stood. She said a few words to the child's parent, who gratefully bundled the child into her arms. The baby was so surprised at the sudden change of scenery, it fell quiet. And in the sudden silence, the woman started to sing.
I wish I could have recorded her for you. Her voice was rich and deep, with a pleasing gravelly tone. But I did not want to interrupt the moment. I did, however, manage to get a picture of the child and their parent before I left the tram, and got their permission to include them here.
It was a tender, funny little tune, one that spoke to the experiences of parents and child-rearers the galaxy over. By the time it was done, the child was not yet sleeping but certainly considering it.
The woman carried the baby a little longer, indulging in that special pleasure of holding a peaceful, sleepy child. When her stop arrived, she passed it back to its exhausted, grateful parent, waving away their thanks, leaving peace and humour in her wake.
This is what she sang:
[singing]
Lully lolai, my little one
You who were born in the light of the sun
Why do you cry when your burdens are few?
Why do you treat your poor mother so cruel?
Lully lolai, oh love of mine
You're fed and you're watered, you're clean and you're dry.
You with no bills and nothing to pay
You cry like you've worked in the vent shafts all day.
Lully lolai, my little one
You who were born in the light of the sun
Why do you cry when your burdens are few?
Why do you treat your poor mother so cruel?
Lully lolai, my dearest child
Your lungs are strong and your voice is wild
You shout so loud it could waken the dead
But you only wake your poor mother instead
Lully lolai, my little one
You who were born in the light of the sun
Why do you cry when your burdens are few?
Why do you treat your poor mother so cruel?
Lully lolai, my sweetest thing
You cry like you're under command from the king
You're safe and you're loved, but I know why
You cry 'cause you're tired and you're tired 'cause you cry
Lully lolai, my little one
You who were born in the light of the sun
Why do you cry when your burdens are few?
Why do you treat your poor mother so cruel?
[Title music: rhythmic instrumental folk. It plays throughout the closing credits.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light was created by H.R. Owen and Matt McDyre, and is a Monstrous Productions podcast. This episode was written and performed by H.R. Owen.
This week’s entry to the archives was based on a suggection by Matty O.K. Smith, with accompanying artwork available on our social media accounts.
If you've got an idea for an archive entry, we want to hear it. You can send us anything from a one line prompt to a fully written entry through our website, by email, or on social media. For more information, see the show notes.
This episode includes an audience decision. Vote on whether the Traveller should tell one other person about the trade, or share the news with the whole crew by making a donation at ko-fi.com/monstrousproductions.
Our tiers start at £1 a month, with all supporters getting access to bonus art, annotated scripts, weekly blogs, and an invitation to the Monstrous Productions Discord server.
This podcast is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. The theme tune is by Vinca.
[Fade to silence. Then, the Before the Tone trailer begins]
(SFX - Phone rings once.)
DARIA
Hey. You’ve reached Daria. Leave a message after the tone, and I’ll get back to you when I can.
(SFX - Beep. Spooky music enters and continues throughout. There is typing on a keyboard for the next clip.)
PASCAL
Is that your sister?
MACK
(audible smirk) In theory. It’s her message box. (pointed) Since she can’t be bothered to answer my calls.
PASCAL
Well, tell her I say hi.
MACK
(good mood again) Pascal says hi.
(SPX - Beep.)
MACK
I had a job interview today. It went pretty alright. They seemed to like me anyway.
(SFX - Beep.)
MACK
The hallways seemed too long. You look down a hallway and it seems a certain length, but walking down it feels unbalanced.
(SFX - Beep.)
MACK
(frantic, out of breath) He’s in my lecture. Daria. I think he’s following me? I - I - I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do about this!
(SFX - Beep.)
WOMAN’S VOICE
Fascinating.
(SFX - Beep.)
NARRATOR
Before the Tone. Queer science fiction horror. Coming to your podcatcher on May 6, 2024. Find details and updates on KnaveOfHearts.com and KnaveOfHeartsAD on Twitter and Tumblr. Disclaimer: All things are exactly as they appear to be.
(SFX - Beep.)
--END TRANSCRIPT--
