Chapter 11: Siblings to Useless

Taudren seems to be spending a lot of time in his room now, which surprises Lazabel, but doesn’t surprise Molcum in the slightest. Taudren is also late down to Monday’s Ice Cream Days, but Molcum looks askance at Yarra when she takes up her to spot on the far end of the sofa - early.

He lowers the volume on the political thing he’s been watching on FIRST! Then, after a moment, he turns to Yarra.

“How are you doing, anyway?” he asks her. “How’s school these days?”

She shrugs and says, “It’s okay I suppose.”

He nods. He frowns. Then asks, “Is it anything like ... well...”

“Like, what?” she asks. “Like Ice Cream Days?”

“Yeah. Yeah I suppose I was asking that. You know ... The ah...”

“Shishelle character? A couple of classes have teachers like that idiot Mr Spiggins. You know Mr Ullerade’s not like that though, right?”

“No assistant teacher like the Ice Cream Days one?”

“She’s a woman. Miss Maplum,” says Yarra. “So she wouldn’t be allowed to spank anyone anyway.”

“Because ... she’s a woman?”

“Yes.” Yarra’s voice has a hint of annoyance. “But in case you’re asking, it’s not anything she’d do if they let her, she says. “Her and Donder don’t believe in it.”

“Donder?” Molcum asks.

“Donder Ullerade,” says Yarra. “Miss Maplum calls him Donder. We were doing some physics. He’s not really meant to - we’re not meant to learn it, officially - but he says it’s just too exciting a subject. He was talking about quantum uncertainty, about double slit experiments. And one of the girls just called him Donder as she asked him a question. Not sure if it was meant as a joke, or she just wasn’t thinking, because sometimes we just talk about Donder in the playground. It’s shorter than Ullerade. He just answered her question.” Yarra shrugs. “Other teachers might have made a song and dance. But he answered her question, then just carried on as if nothing had happened.”

Molcum still looks half confused. “Doesn’t that lead to discipline problems?”

Yarra just stares at her dad with a frown. “You don’t get it, do you? Mr Ullerade doesn’t have discipline problems.”

Molcum wrinkles his nose. “Surely every teacher has discipline problems. There’s always some joker in a class who causes trouble.”

“Not in ours,” says Yarra.

“What, you’re all just good as gold?”

“No,” she says. “If someone’s playing silly buggers, everyone else just tells them to shut up.”

“How come?” asks her dad.

Yarra sighs. “So we can hear what he’s saying. Concentrate.”

“Right...” Molcum still looks as if he doesn’t quite get it. “So have those cameras been installed in your classroom yet?” he asks.

She shrugs. “He told them not to, that they’d just be a waste. But the tech bods said they just had to do every room. So yes, they’ve installed them.”

“Whereabout?”

Yarra shrugs. “There’s one in the ceiling. There’s one in the floor. And there’s one in this desk thing which just sits in a corner. It’s got a glass top. We’ve been wondering what to do with it. An ant farm, maybe? That’s one of our ideas. And Donder’s got to wear this stupid camera on his chest. But they don’t record if he doesn’t turn it on, and neither do any of the cameras in the room.”

He sighs. “So you don’t ever ... you know ... get -”

“Spanked? No of course not! Haven’t you been listening?”

“Not by anyone else?”

She shakes her head. “It’s one teacher, one class. We’re the ones who got lucky. We got the teacher who knows stuff - thinks girls are as bright and as capable as boys - and he wants to tell us everything he knows. That’s why we do chemistry, and physics and history. He knows loads and loads about them! He’s always reading, he says - he says he’s a knowledge sponge. The minute you stop learning, your world gets less exciting. Learning keeps your brain from getting bored.”

Molcum is blinking. “Just your class, or others?”

Yarra stares back. “There’s a natural experiment happening,” she says. “There’s our class in our year with Mr Ullerade. Then there’s the other class our year with Mr Dickle. Mr Ullerade teaches us and never, ever spanks us. Mr Dickle gives out school books and tells the girls in his class to just read them. And he spanks them all the time. Or, he used to before the cameras turned up. So one class is learning a ton of different things, and the other class isn’t. Can you guess which is which?”

“He used to before the cameras turned up?”

Yarra sounds exasperated. “That’s what Yulla Cottle says. He used to, now he thinks he’s being watched. I don’t know what he does though, I don’t go in their room. Buy yourself a login and see for yourself.”

“So he doesn’t have to do it?” Molcum says.

“Who, Dickle? Or Donder?”

“Any of them.”

Yarra shrugs. “They can do what they want.”

“And the head just lets them - one way or the other?”

Yarra stares again. Then she frowns, quickly shrugging her shoulders, saying, “Why d’you think teachers would have to ask the head? They can spank anyone in their classes if they want. I mean, they’ve probably got to make something up to stick in a report. But there’s never been a rule that they have to ask the head. The only reason I haven’t been spanked is Mr Ullerade thinks it’s a coward’s response. A sadist’s charter, he called it once, then we got him to explain that and - like always - he just told us the truth. He’s probably not supposed to say things like that. But he says, what’s the point of being in school if there’s nothing to learn? All that spanking really teaches is that people with power like to dominate people who don’t have power.”

“He says that to you?”

“Yes,” says Yarra. “And he’s really good and he teaches us really interesting things! And because we know he wants us to actually learn, and he always makes it interesting, we listen really hard, and ask questions, and learn!”

She glares at her dad. Behind him, the political programme is finishing.

“Won’t it get him into trouble though?” Molcum asks.

She frowns at him. “No. I don’t know. I really hope not ... Don’t say anything, Dad. Don’t you dare try to tell on him!”

“I wasn’t going to. I was just...” He frowns back. “Why do you want to watch Ice Cream Days then?”

It takes her a while to answer. When she does, she starts with, “Please don’t tell on Mr Ullerade, okay? He says we could watch it, knowing it’s propaganda. We should watch it knowing it’s brainwashing. Spoon-feeding society a story, right? Of how things are supposed to be now LC have got back. But they don’t have to be that way, not deep down underneath it all. That’s why he says we should watch it knowing it’s fake. So we can learn to see what that looks like, alright? Just - don’t tell on him? Please, Dad? Because I think he’s the best teacher I might ever have!”

Lazabel comes into the room with hot drinks. There are four mugs. She frowns. “Where’s Taudren?” she asks.

“Upstairs,” says Molcum. “I’ll get him, shall I?” And he gets up and goes directly upstairs. The look on Lazabel’s face is close to astonished, since Molcum stirring from his sofa once he’s settled down to watch is something he virtually never does.

“What’s got into your dad?” she asks her daughter.

Yarra just shrugs. Then she reaches for the remote and turns the channel to Popular just as the theme tune to Ice Cream Days starts up.

When Molcum pushes on Taudren’s door, it seems to be blocked. He knocks instead. “Taudren,” he says, “come downstairs. Ice Cream Days.”

There’s a pause, then Taudren’s voice says, “I’m busy.”

“Yeah. So stop being busy and come down. I’m not kidding, Tauders. Do it now. Don’t suddenly change the family routine.”

There’s a pause. Then some shuffling. Then another lengthy pause. Then Taudren shifts the blockage away from his door and says, “I was watching something.”

“I guessed. Get downstairs now and watch Ice Cream Days. Don’t start drawing attention!”

“I was just...”

“Downstairs. I can always tell them I don’t want access anymore. Don’t change the routine. Come and watch the stupid soap. And Billy Hall again, tomorrow. And the soap again on Wednesday. Then they won’t get to know you have access to the Database. Because if that happens, I’m cutting it straight off.”

Taudren looks sheepish as he goes downstairs. Molcum wonders about looking in his room to see what record he’s been watching just now. Then he thinks, bad idea. He’d rather not know.

When the front title finishes, Ice Cream Days cuts to a moody shot of the Punishment Room in the local girls’ school. One of the bad girls, Gemmi Dogger, is standing upright with her hands on her head. She’s wearing nothing but a bra, panties, socks and shoes and her legs are a foot and a half apart. She’s being spanked by the young assistant teacher, Mr Oligem, who swings his hand back in an underarm move, then swings it forwards and up into her bottom.

The scene cuts to Chitter Spugs’ back garden. Nieti Yorkle is working, bent double in front of Mr Spugs, legs apart as she weeds his grounds. Light rain is still falling. Her once-white top and short pants have been rendered completely transparent, so that what’s between her legs is fully on display.

Lazabel, watching, doesn’t even tut.

Chitter Spugs says to Nieti, “Right, now you’ve weeded that lot, pick it all up and take it to the compost heap.” She picks up some of the cuttings in gloved hands and starts to walk. But Spugs says, “You can carry more than that, can’t you?”

Twice more, Nieti picks up additional cuttings, trying to hold them against one forearm, only for Spugs to tell her to pick up more. In the end, she’s forced to hold the pulled weeds and cuttings up against her chest. And, once she’s doing this, old Spugs finally lets her move towards the compost heap. But as she drops the cuttings, something stays attached to her top: a stem of bramble. When she pulls it off, it ladders her semi-transparent top right across one nipple.

The scene cuts to the Ice Cream Shop, where Nieti’s husband Tonder has stopped by on his way home.

“Your Nieti is doing a fine lot for charity, isn’t she?” says Mr Days. “Good of her, that.”

“Yes well she’s got to do something with her time, hasn’t she?” says Tonder, sounding snippy.

Days says, “I did find myself wondering if she might have taken on too much, though.”

Tonder, ice cream in hand, just glares at Days and doesn’t reply.

Then Tonder is at the Church Hall. Father Cloar is there and calls to him, “Tonder Yorkle! I must thank you again - your generosity with Nieti! She was dropping in here regularly just this morning!” He points to a rack of clothes and says, “She’s donated all these lovely items!”

“Good,” says Tonder.

The priest looks, then smiles a lop-sided smile. He has one eyebrow raised. “Interesting outfit you picked for her challenge, if you don’t mind me saying, Tonder.”

“Yes well,” says the man, “that was just meant for this just morning. Just to see how committed she is. To me, if you see what I mean. To see if she’d do it.”

“Well of course. One or two of the ladies did have frowns on their faces - I ought to point that out.”

“Yes, apologies I suppose, to you and your fellow priests, Father.”

“Ah,” says Cloar, “I doubt you’ll get me, or the other lads complaining. She’s a sight for sore eyes, is your Nieti, ha ha!”

“I just thought I ought to check,” says Tonder.

“Well. She’d doing the business, that’s for sure. Cycling. Donating. Headed off up to Chitter Spugs’ job already for this afternoon.”

“Good to know,” says Tonder. “Right. I’ll love you and leave you.”

“Right you are,” says Father Cloar, “and thanks once again for your great generosity in offering up Nieti. She’s working so hard for the clock and church tower!”

They nod, and Tonder leaves.

Then Nieti is cycling home. She’s going via back streets, taking a few spare clothes from Chitter Spugs down to the church hall. Then back along the seafront, an up the long steep hill that her and her husband’s house sits on. Spits and spots of rain continue to hit her skimpy, semi-transparent outfit, now smeared green in places, spattered with mud and permanently laddered across her left nipple. For the first time, she looks really embarrassed as a young child, holding its mother’s hand, stares at her as she struggles uphill, face red and panting.

When she reaches her own house, Tonder is waiting. He stands fully dressed at the front door. He says to his wife, “You look disgusting!”

She shows hurt in her reactions.

“Why are you still in those filthy rags, Nieti?”

“I didn’t get a chance to change them,” she says.

“But I told you to change them.”

“I just couldn’t, though, Tonder.”

We see a flashback of Nieti with the priest around lunch time, when the parish ladies were no longer there.

Father Cloar says, “Stop a while and have a little rest.”

“I can’t,” she says, “Tonder picked some work clothes out for me to wear this afternoon, when I start up on the charity jobs. I’ve got to get back up the hill and change!”

“Oh you won’t need to change them,” says the priest, “you’re only working for Mr Spugs, weeding his garden, and you’ve seen how he dresses. He’ll not mind a bit.”

“But Tonder said...”

“Pish-posh what Tonder said, I’ll have a word with him next time I see him, make sure he knows it was me who said you’re alright to do Chitter Spugs’ garden wearing this lot! Having to bomb all the way back up your hill is just a waste of your time, and everybody else’s!”

We see Nieti in the present time with her husband again, who asks, “So, exactly why couldn’t you change those rags, Nieti?”

Nieti says, “It was because...”

Then we’re back in another flashback. This time it’s not what was in the actual programme, but a short scene we never got to see before. It’s a few minutes later, still inside the Church Hall, and Nieti is cycling as slowly as she can around and around the central jumble sale tables, as the priest tracks her through the lens of his camera.

“Have you got a shot yet?” she asks the priest.

“Quite hard to get it, since you’re moving,” he says, lowering his angle as she comes around towards him once more, so his head is roughly level with her hips.

“I can stop though,” she says. “But are you sure it’s a good idea, Father Cloar? If my picture is to be in the parish magazine, could I not just put on some slightly nicer clothes? All my old ones are right here?”

“Oh no,” he says, “no, that won’t do! We can all see your proper commitment this way! You’re donating so many good clothes to the cause, Nieti. Seems like all you have left is these simple ones - you see? Oh you’re defimitely doing that charity job for me, Nieti! All for the best of causes, of course! Though you’ll have to abide by the conditions I’ll set, just the way you have to do whatever Chitter Spugs tells you! No exceptions! You do understand that, eh, Nieti?”

Nieti, looking worried, lightly nods her head again.

“Thing is, you can’t tell anyone else the little quirky details of the jobs your sponsors give you. Like Chitter Spugs, Colonel Pramblebush - and me. You follow?”

Nieti stops the bike and nods her head, solemnly. “I should always tell Tonder, though, shouldn’t I father?

“Oh, no!” the Priest insists. “Especially not Tonder! Understand? That would be against the whole spirit of the thing!”

Back in the present, Tonder asks, “Because? Because what?”

Nieti looks downcast. She says, “Nothing.”

Then he’s suddenly shouting. “Nothing? Nothing? Oh my god,” he says, “you must like it ... You must actually like cycling up and down that bloody hill! Displaying everything you’ve got, to the world at large. Well you can bloody well carry on doing it, Nieti! Now, get inside the house at once!”

She sheepishly leans her bike up against their front wall of their house and troops indoors, head hanging, downcast. Tonder follows her in. He picks up the second set of clothes he picked that morning. He tells Nieti, “And you can take these down to the Church Hall first thing! You won’t be wearing these ever again!” He pauses, then adds, “Or any of your other rich girl clothes. You can bloody well give the whole lot away, Nieti! Every last patch and stitch! You dirty little slut.”

Yarra, from her sofa, says, “Wow, you believe this? She’s a wife, he’s her husband - so she’s just supposed grin and bear all his nonsense? Submit to that bullying level of control? Just because they’re married?”

Nieti, on screen, looks even more bereft. Then Tonder starts attacking her bottom with a smacking hand, smacking up from below, just like Oligem was doing with Gemmi Dodger. Nieti shrieks. So far as Yarra and her family know, or anyone else who watches the soap, Tonder has never spanked Nieti before.

Back at the school, Teacher’s Assistant Mr Oligem has a second bad girl, Estrema Pizapon, stark naked in the girls’ showers, where he’s making her stand, shivering, directly under a cold water stream. Every thirty seconds, he pulls her out by one arm, rattles her backside with water-scattering spanks, then pushes her back into the freezing stream of water. The camera angles leave don’t leave anything out - there’s even a camera embedded in the shower floor.

Ice Cream Days ends a few minutes later, having spent half of its running time with fully- or half-naked girls up on screen. Taudren has been watching silently, barely reacting to his sister’s complaints. As soon as it’s finished, he says, “Dad, can I go upstairs again now?”

Molcum frowns. “So what did you think of Ice Cream Days then?”

Taudren shrugs. “It was alright,” he says, sounding less than enthused.

Lazabel stares at her glum son, eyes narrowed. Then she gets up and goes to the kitchen without comment, while Taudren pushes up to head off to his room.

Molcum says, “Billy Hall tomorrow, eh Tauders?”

Taudren’s face smiles at last. He says, “Yeah, that’s still good.” Then he’s gone. Molcum sighs.

Yarra stretches her feet along the sofa, taking up the space that Taudren just vacated. “You saw it then, right, Dad?”

He looks worried for a moment, glancing towards the door that Taudren left through. “Saw what?” he asks.

“Saw the blatant propaganda! Come on, it’s just so obvious! Girls are supposed to do whatever they’re told. That’s the official society line - since the conning pseudo-liberals stole all my rights. It’s like, we’re not even allowed to call bullshit anymore!”

“I’m not sure that’s an appropriate...”

Yarra tuts. “Yes, it is. That thing with the priest? He says he’ll tell that perfect-wife character’s moron husband why he’s stopped her changing her stupid skimpy clothes. But he doesn’t - he’s just blatantly lied so he can carry on ogling at her through his stupid camera. But she’s not supposed to say a thing to call his bullshit, while he can get away with whatever he wants! And those other girls, in school with that revolting assistant? Not even a proper teacher, is he? But they’re saying he can spank them, strip and torture them whenever he wants. Practicing on them? Theres no-one else there to even keep an eye out that he’s not doing worse.”

“They’re bad girls though,” says Molcum, “they’ve been really mean to that other girl.”

Yarra tuts. “It’s even flimsy plotting, it’s stupid all around! He’s a nobody and he has no reason to be mean to them. But the storyline is, he’s a man and they’re just girls. And they’re saying that means he gets to do exactly what he wants. That men are in charge. That girls aren’t, ever. Men don’t even have to be honest, do they Dad? But girls still aren’t supposed to argue back. Can’t you see it, Dad? It’s clear as day!””

“But it’s how it’s always been,” he says.

“Oh yeah right. You can’t even see it’s getting worse, nearly every day now? It’s...” here she hesitates. “It’s even happening out there on the streets. On ... buses. In public! Girls are getting ... abused. Being ... things like that horrible man Billy Hall does, being done to them ... being pushed into alleys and ... it’s horrible, dad!”

“They should call the Police then.”

Yarra’s mouth falls open. “The Police, Dad? You know people actually just call them the Grope Squad? They don’t even care! If you’re a girl, you know not to report things to Police, because...”

Molcum, head down, nods quietly. She’s spoken a truth that on some level, he’s aware of.

“It’s just not fair, Dad. Why is any of that fair?”

It’s later that night. Taudren hasn’t been spotted for hours. Lazabel has gone to bed, and so has Yarra. Molcum is just sitting on the sofa on his own, watching a late night interview show. The actress from Ice Cream Days, Loaola Gregeer, who plays Nieti Yorkle, is there on a two-seater sofa, in a brightly lit set, with a big TV behind to show clips when needed, which the interviewees have to twist around to look at.

It’s a Popular magazine programme called The Shows You Like. It has a youngish female presenter, Innawil Billikint. The show is always light in tone, never scratching too far underneath any surface gloss. Billikint is a pretty, smiling, incessantly cheerful presenter, with bright red, dyed hair and garish yellow clothes, the skirt of which only comes a third of the way down her thighs. She over-enthuses about any show she features, and frequently shifts on her seat as she does it. She has a habit of re-adjusting her skirt, trying to pull it down lower before shifting again in her enthusiasm.

There’s a second actor on set as well - Choad Proober, who plays Father Cloar.

Billikint says to the actors on the sofa, “Ice Cream Days has always been popular, hasn’t it? But its ratings have recently gone through the roof! Due in no small part to your expanded part, Laola, where Nieti Yorkle’s story gets intertwined with Father Cloar’s - played by you, Choad Proober! Saint Lortard’s Church has never seemed so sexy! If I may come to you first, Loala?”

The actress is dressed, in her turn, in a shortish white, frill-edged skirt and nice light shin-laced boots. She has a bare midriff and a frilly white top which emphasises her cleavage. She smiles back at Innawil Billikint.

Billikint asks, “So - what did you think, Loala, when the producers told you of their plans for Nieti?”

Laola Gregeer says, “Well my heart started racing, Inniwil. ‘We’re expanding your part!’ That’s what they told me. ‘How much?’ I asked. ‘A lot!’ they said. I honestly think my knees started shaking.”

“And they’ve really sexed up your part in the show, right? Not just expended your time on the screen?”

Laola Gregeer says, “I mean, they didn’t disguise just how much I’d be ... well...”

“Showing?” asks Billikint.

The actress laughs. “Well yes, I mean - I’d never been asked to go anywhere even near naked before, but - that’s part of the job of an actress, really, isn’t it? I remember my mouth going dry - I was suddenly petrified, Inniwil! What would my friends think - my family, you know? But then Marton and Runiger -”

“The show’s executive producers,” the man by Laola’s side interjects.

“Yes - they started out emphasising just how much screen time I’d be getting! Nieti Yorkle was just a fairly minor character at the time, I was in maybe...” She looks towards Choad Proober. “One show in four? Five? At the time?”

“It was a terrific break for Loala,” says Proober, who’s dressed in a sensible dark suit, with an open collar to his shirt. He’s half reclining on the slightly-too-narrow-for-comfort, two seat sofa, forearms up on its back, hair swept to one side, looking as unlike Father Cloar as he can. “I mean, their pitch was to boost her character’s profile from occasional walk-on up to regular, Inniwil!”

Billikint giggles. “But, all that flesh on display, Laola! I don’t mind saying, you had me - well, squirming in my seat at some points, with all those shots of you pedalling that bicycle up that really steep hill with...”

“Everything turning transparent,” says Gregeer. “I know! Oh, my goodness, I was dreading telling my mum and dad!”

“And, how did they react?”

“Oh they were excited! Just so supportive, especially my Dad. ‘Loala,’ he said, ‘you’ve just got to grab the bull by both horns. Opportunities like this might come once in a lifetime. You turn them down, you could regret that forever!’”

Proober says, edging his body towards Gregeer’s, “Pretty actresses wanting to climb the greasy pole always need to be prepared to show a little bit of flesh.” Proober flicks his long fringe. He looks smug, and not a little in love with himself. “You know, theatrical people know that in their bones. I mean, not even that long in the past, the term actress and prostitute were more or less interchangeable!”

A frown flicks across the actress’s face, which Proober detects.

He adds, with a wink, “And we had more than one king with an actress for a mistress!”

Innawil Billikint doesn’t react. “Of course we did!” She jumps in with, when he’s finished. “And the story between you two is about to blow up, isn’t it?”

Proober says, “Oh yes, Inniwil! Father Cloar will get some really juicy scenes with Loala pretty soon now! Really pushing at the boundaries, we hope!”

“I’m really, really nervous about it,” says Gregeer. “I’m not sure my dad knows just how risqué what we might be doing will be.”

“The scripts are terrific though,” says Choad Proober, cradling Gregeer’s far shoulder with one sofa-backed hand. “Poor Loala here is going to get put through the mangler! I can’t pretend I’m not rather looking forward to it, eh, Laola?” He tips his head sideways to Gregeer and winks again. “Good job I’m not a ninebob, eh?”

Billikint asks, “You mean, Choad, you think you might really enjoy your scenes with Laola here?”

“Oh yeah, definitely, Inniwil! I’ve talked it all through with the producers of course, even chucked in a few fun ideas of my own...” He brings his arm-backed right hand down and uses it to squeeze Gregeer’s exposed thigh. “Loala doesn’t know even half the details yet! All she knows is, she’s got to do just what I tell her! So we can get Nieti’s real reactions, live, right on screen! Right, Loala?”

Gregeer smiles nervously, mostly with her mouth, rather less with her eyes. Choad Proober flashes his eyebrows up and down, and winks at the over-bright, grinning Billikint.

“But she’s signed all her contracts, haven’t you Loala? She’s all tied in now, whatever, ha ha!”

Billikint enthuses, “So the show might get even more racy, do you think?”

“You can bet on it!” says Proober.

“Oh, just, wow!” says Billikint. “So it’s all going to get me just - squirming even more?”

“Sliding on your seat like a skater on an ice rink, girl! Eh, Loala? Nieti Yorkle has a lot more trials to get through before that story arc will be done and dusted! Positively Job-like, the trials she’ll be put through!”

Gregeer says, “To be truthful, I’m not a hundred percent looking forward to it all - whatever it is they’ve got planned for my character!”

“You don’t know what they’ve got planned, then?” Billikint asks.

“No - like Choad says, the producers know - but I’m a bit in the dark!”

Proober oozes, “Ah, but think of all that lovely screen time, Loala! All those endless shots of you up on that screen!” He turns his smug expression to Billikint. “Of Laola, ha ha, and her lovely bits and pieces! And some very lovely bits she does have, that’s for sure.”

“You don’t need to tell me!” says Billikint, taking skirt in both hands and wiggling it lower.

Molcum sighs and lightly shakes his head. Some of Yarra’s words are still pinching his conscience. He feels sorry for her - of course he does. But, wow, he also thinks, this is all just amazing. Because he wants to see what those producers have got in store for Gregeer. He’s been thinking about a few phrases of Proober’s. She’s signed all her contracts - she’s tied in now, whatever. He wonders what Loala Gregeer’s contract actually says. I chucked in a few fun ideas of my own. Loala doesn’t know even half the details. Molcum imagines being that smug, handsy actor with an actress that pretty to ogle at, live. All she knows is, she’s got to do just what I tell her.

There are footfalls on the stairs. Then Taudren shuffles into the living room, blinks at his dad, and sits down in his usual spot, right in the middle seat of the sofa.