Archive Stone the Fifth

Message: Escaping a god abandoned world!
Author: Pescador - Tuhul UtNapishtim, Patron
Date: Jan 19, 2001 05:04

Outside the comforting enclosure of the Barley's familiar walls, the streets were buzzing with the news that the entire universe was on the verge of collapse. Earnest faced young entrepreneurs, the "Tablet Boys" stopped by frequently to deliver the latest intelligence. "Here yeh go Lady Farida, cold and wet, just off the scribe's lap! News Tablets! Get 'em while they're wet!"

The gang drew close together, no doubt gaining a sense of security as much from one another's presence as from the overflowing bowls and mugs. On the backside of a tablet -- stale news, but fresh damp clay -- they took turns at sketching plans for their mutual survival. First Inaras had the stylus, and presumably the group's shared brain, for she drew well and succinctly a general picture of the "Barley" mounted as a superstructure upon a wide and deep hulled vessel. Then, passing brain, tablet and stylus to Farida, the Ubaratutu drew down another mouthful of her favorite, and stuffed a small round seed cake whole into her mouth.

Farida, the decorator among them, pressed into the clay her representations of curtains and waterproof shutters, stout enough to protect her hand set windowpanes. Brutus added his barbershop, as a wheel house on the poop, and Whiskers, looking suggestively at Tuhul, drew many lovely fish signs filling the hold with cargo, then drew in a large commodious bay with piles of straw and hay, and a nicely done representation of a slightly seasick Tusker.

"Ok, Whiskers, but mind you, a whole heap of fish like that's gonna take some time to catch..." The leonine head merely nodded slowly in agreement and huge, amber eyes locked with Tuhul's gaze until he cleared his throat and added: "And the sooners I gits about it, and salts em down..." here Whiskers interrupted, salty fish was not to her liking, "er, that is, I guess icing 'em, and packin' 'em in sawdust would be the closest as comes to fresh." Whiskers sighed, sawdusted fish was messy eating, but better than the salted kind. "So I'll worry about the provisions while you all nab the timbers."

Tusker would be a tremendous assistance here, having great strength to knock down selected sources of fine wooden beams (abandoned buildings in Siduri Land were becoming ever more plentiful), and a prepossessing bulk that would discourage any competitors. Brutus dashed to pack up his shop, and loosen its structure from the foundations, while Farida and Inaras improved upon the sketches, and discussed just how the frame should be constructed. Having passed the communal brain back to the ladies, Tuhul began a perceptible drift toward his favorite corner. There he fully intended to finish his malt, and the one he had snitched from Lady Inaras too.

But, apparently Whiskers really intended to have things well in hand, er paw before the day was over, and long before "The Barley" could be tossed to flinders and cinders in the rapidly approaching hour of doom. Tuhul, being of a somewhat more indolent nature, and quite willing to drink right up to the very last moment, would have to be chivvied along a bit, even to secure his own survival. Whiskers, undoubtedly the largest, strongest and reputedly wisest head in the cafe (as well as the furriest) approached the matter calmly, but seriously, and flexed her massive paws exposing 3 inch long claws, claws upon which the fashion conscious Inaras had obviously been working. Each nail was brightly enameled in a different color, and some cunning brush work had gone into tracing the intricate patterns thereon. Tuhul thought the sketch of a mouse running, as if seeking to escape an imagined pursuit by Whiskers, was of particular artistic merit, the best of the lot...

But a sudden swat from that very paw, though the claws were quickly retracted, convinced Tuhul that artistic display had not been the BIG KITTY's intention! Remembering his dreams, and Whiskers' meaningful stares, he busied himself at once, gathering up his tackle and bait and rushed off to the shores. "You betcher! Fish, we gonna have fish!"

Message: A rousing call to action:
Author: always seeking salvation - Tuhul UtNapishtim, Patron
Date: Jan 30, 2001 01:58

Nailed with feline precision to the Barley's Message pannel the following neatly inscribed missive was hanging by the door:

Ladies Farida, and Inaras, esteemed Barber Brutus, and all other casual custom: the time of the transition draws nigh. After valiant exertions in garnering a headily aromatic cargo, the UtNapishtim and I would now beg for your assistance (Tusker included) in the demolition of the "Barley" neighborhood -- er the gleaning of nearby construction material -- pursuant to the fabrication of an escape and re-entry vehicle, suitable for the transportation of all concerned and sundry (the "sundry" being those pesky rodents who always know when to hop a ship and leave a sinking world).

Your voluntary cooperation in this joint venture would be appreciated, and if necessary it will be secured (with the minimum of coercion, it is to be hoped).

Whiskers sat back on furry haunches, tail sweeping out arcs in the dust of street: *Yes, this should quite plainly rouse her crew from their despondency, give them something to keep their minds off the advancing 'crack of doom!'* Tusker, pretending to be able to keep the tiny print in focus, trumpeted twice to signify agreement.

Somewhere across the Cyberic Seas, a new home waited...

Message: prepareing for closure
Author: proprietor - Farida Siduri
Date: Feb 10, 2001 23:08

Whiskers looked rather proud of her accomplishment of putting up the sign. I had mixed feelings. I felt sad to be leaving this place, but at the same time I was feeling excitement at moving to our knew home. I was hoping that I wouldn't be loosing any of my regular patrons. I was looking forward to meeting new ones of different cultures. I always enjoyed learning new stuff. I looked down at Whiskers.

"Yes, this will be new beginning again for us Whiskers." She looked up at me and looked pleased.

Message: Tusker roared out his challenge.....
Author: Tusker - Inaras Ubaratutu
Date: Feb 10, 2001 23:33

...and swung his trunk around mightily. He stepped back and away from teh Barley Cafe, and lashed out at a few precariously-leaning neighborhood structures, demolishing them.

No one was at home. Inaras rushed out to calm him down, but he trotted in a calm, unconcerned, elephant trot, away. To the next teetering building...

Message: The Barley, Made Ship-shape and Ready
Author: departing - Tuhul UtNapishtim, Patron
The UtNapishtim was very deeply absorbed in his first learnt and most practiced of occupations -- sleeping in. It was his favorite custom to miss those early troublesome hours of the morning when hurried citizens were rushing through their last preparations for the day's upcoming contingencies. The air about his bower was redolent with the mixed contrary scents of fresh balsam from the sawdust, and the dank heavy odor of many, many fine, fresh fish laid up in the chill preservation of great slabs of mountain cut ice.

He was drifting through his favorite stock of dreams, stealing bright wondrous items of moon-silvered-hue from sleeping citizens who collected, but did not appreciate with proper affection that most beautiful of the metals. They slept, deeply exhausted and without dreams, tired from their exertions in harsh but gainful acts of employment and social status pursued. They cheated one another viciously in their daily deals, measuring success in terms of heaped up goods and trinkets whose real beauties they always ignored, favoring instead a shrewd estimation of market valued price. These, the victims of their own greed, he victimized again -- liberating, or so his twisted sense of honour called it, bright silver from darkling minds. Silver spoke to him in its own tongue, told him when the hands that touched it in frequent care were leaving stored up memories there. Wherever silver shone, polished in tenderness, an object of affection, of captured, fond, sweet dreams, he would take nothing, for even a thief may have a conscience, and stealing dreams was a sin against poetry.

So it was that Whiskers found him, curled in the straw, located by his dreamy mumbles. She was about to set to, rouse him up and nudge him into further exertions, but something about his circled position gave her pause. So much was left to do, but cats are cats and to that basic dictum will be true. All work of late, some time for play was due. Why not? Playing rag ball with an UtNapishtim was an old and special sport. So, in low crouched -- but scarcely needed -- stalking pose, she crept up in Feline silence, twitched her tail from one side to the other, went stiff and sprang. How joyous to be batting the rolling form about the room, he did squeal so convincingly! She picked him up, more gently than deserved, and tossed him high -- his shrieks of absolute glee, no doubt -- enlivened the late morning airs. Well that was fun, and she licked his face to promise that in times yet to come she would always find a few spare minutes to give him play. No, he need not thank her, he was after all, a most favored, special toy. But quick as a cat her mood turned to the serious work yet to be accomplished. She chivvied him out the door, with a few longing glances at the ranked fish stored there, and with her soft great head butting him along she brought him to a scene of utmost busy action.

Inaras Ubaratutu was admonishing an exasperated Ratty foreman to allow proper rest and cheese breaks for his crew, while nodding satisfaction as Tusker brought in great beams and baulks of abandoned timber. Clever handed Farida, was finishing the mortises in the last of the giant ribs, and the long curving keel already had been laid. Brutus was shaving planks to size, and the neighborhood alley cats were drilling holes for easy attachment through the wooden members. A few silly, tongue wagging dogs, who really would prefer to be chasing the cats, were clumsily laying out the water proofed shingles to dry in the sun. The donkeys were laying on the ropes and lifting into place -- through some clever contraption of beams and pulleys -- the first of the ribs. Whiskers gave a gentle nudge, and the still-half-wrapped in dreams Tuhul joined them.

Hammers banged, pulleys screeched, Ratties chirped and squeaked, great Auks and Albatrosses carried rigging to the now tall masts, and added the clatter of their beaks to the chatter there below. With so many willing hands and paws, talons, and hooves, the structure was rising with visible rapidity. A few minor incidents punctuated their labors, some, like the waggy dog who forgot to watch his step and tumbled hind paws over fore into a tub of white wash sealer, brought good natured howls, growls, whistles and cackles as they helped him out and processed his sticky hide into normal cleanness with a shower that Tusker applied. Other accidents were more serious matters, as when a young Ratty ran a sharp splinter into his arm. "Lookee here, you, stop that squeakin' and hold still!" the Ratty foreman spoke as Barber Brutus, an expert surgeon, and Lady Farida removed the wicked wood fragment. Lady Inaras then began wrapping long lengths of linen smeared with soothing balms about the Ratty's stick thin arm. Tuhul merely watched the process, turning rather green, until Whiskers sent him off with Tusker in search of more material for the deck.

When the evening came they stood back and looked amazed. It towered up above them, a virtual mountain of wood and plant fibers, caulked and tarred (yes at least one yellow dog was now nearly black, but it would wear off) and ready now at hand. To Whisker's nose the thing had many scents, but under-all the satisfying odour of fresh fish packed in ice brought contentment and comfort. For the Ratty types, ripe cheeses conveyed that sense of pleasant satisfaction. The humans drank their peculiar beverages, snacked on Farida's cakes and congratulated themselves on a job well and speedily done. Tusker, and the assorted equids, bovids, ovids and other pastoral stocks, thought deep and grassy thoughts about the great heaps of hay, straw and silage it contained. Upon the long stretched yard arms, flocks of day birds slept, while the owls patrolled the deck as a night watch, just for the practice.

Whiskers presented her ears for scratching to Inaras, and began a deep and steady purr. All was ready now, all preparations made. And hanging at the bows there swung in the moonlight revealed, the welcome sign, "The Barley, A Cafe." And some clever-boots Ratty had added in thin spidery scrawl beneath those words, "Our Ark and Home."

Tusker started a very low, soft bass singing, and the ultissimo soprano voiced Ratties joined right in. Soon the dogs were imitating coyotes, and even the humans added to the chorus: a song of thanks and hope, a song of parting tinged with sorrow at the losses, colored with happy memories.

The Ancient World where so many joys and petty tribulations had been experienced, was fading, fading slowly away. But here with all these friends, something of the old days, more than just fond memories would yet be saved.

The story, even now, begins anew...

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