Ch 1, reg 3: Allocation of Funding

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Chapter 1 - General

Regulation 3: Allocation of Funding

The provision of funding for a domain is to be set at a rate of not less than 10 standard units per soul currently in residence. The value of a standard unit, and the indexation rate of each period, is to be set and regulated by the Treasury.

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Gemma lay awake in her room, having woken for the second time that morning. Her candle had burnt down to a stub, its flame drowned in the hardening puddle of wax within its holder. The room’s shape was only just beginning to find its form in the diffused light of the rising sun. Her eyes traced the shifting edges of the painted ceiling in the half-light. Her exhaustion had vanished within the evening’s bath waters, and it had been replaced by pure anticipation as she considered the possibilities of this world. She played through the possible scenarios. Had she been summoned, or had she travelled by chance into their world? Was she the chosen one, and if so, was it as a living hero or a martyr? Was she perhaps their harbinger of destruction, prophesied a thousand years ago? Would she be cherished or crucified? Loved or loathed? The questions bounced about in her mind, each one forming the stem of its own vine of subsequent theories. She took comfort in her supposed reservation and the conductor’s reference to her stop as an indication that she had been invited. Though, there were still too many unknowns. Without a guarantee that her summoner was a friend, or being aware of the purpose for her summoning, she decided that she would take a cautious approach to the day ahead. There was a gentle knock at the door.

"Breakfast is served." The voice of Midari spoke. Their steady footsteps continued down the landing. Gemma stretched herself up with a great gaping yawn. She could see the fields beyond her window, the golden colours of their swaying crops reflecting in the rising light. A copse of trees grew along the outer edge of the field, thick branches creating a canopy that brushed the edge of the fog. She moved to the closet, each step working life back into her muscles. A selection of simple, elegant cloth and cord robes hung from wooden hangers, each with their own design and shade of muted colour. She took a faded lilac option, in a slightly thicker variant amongst the selection. A faint print of hyacinths wrapped down its sleeves to the folded cuffs. She opened the door to the hallway, and saw a pair of wooden sandals had been placed by the door. She slipped into them, relishing in the rhythmic clacking sounds that they made against the timber flooring as she moved.

She walked about the internal landing of the second floor, and saw into the open door of her neighbour’s room. The interior was of an almost identical structure to her own but with a shaggy rug placed upon the straw mats and gaudy furnishings. The receptionist was in the room, pulling the bedding into a neatly folded pile and placing it away into the upper space of the wardrobe, chattering to themselves as they worked. As they turned, they made eye contact with Gemma and gave a double smile and a nod. The effect of their appearance was only somewhat less disconcerting in the light of day as opposed to the evening’s candlelight. Gemma returned the smile.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning.” came the reply from the face on their right, that she now knew as Midari.

“Would I be able to trouble you for a favour?” She asked.

“Would it be for directions to the dining room?” their left face asked, while they worked on setting a small table in the centre of the guest’s room.

“Yes.” Gemma laughed. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you while you’re working.”

“Not at all, it would be our pleasure. Though I’ll leave Higi to give you the tour.” Their right face said, as they stepped onto the landing and closed the door behind them. They were wearing a simple garment of grey and brown fabrics. Heavy, mismatched earrings hung from their ears. Their left bore a pendant of a golden sun, and their right was studded by a silver star.

“That’s only because he doesn’t know where he’s going either,” their left face whispered to Gemma.

“I heard that.” Midari snapped with a laugh. Gemma found herself smiling as she followed them down the central spiral staircase, fascinated by their interactions.

“Did you sleep well?” Higi asked her.

“I thought I hadn’t, but I feel surprisingly splendid this morning.”

“The baths will do that to you. Though you shouldn’t push yourself too hard. Do let us know if you require any assistance at all.”

She proceeded after them into the main hallway space. They guided her down the third left and another right, each path taking them through an elegantly constructed wooden passage, spaced slats in the walls allowing natural light to filter within. The passage had painted artwork framed and hanging from the walls, landscapes and portraits of various shapes and sizes, most painted by the same graceful hand. She struggled to give them more than a cursory glance as she attempted to remember the labyrinthine path they had taken, though she noticed the receptionist gave a lingering moment beneath a painting of a young woman standing atop a bridge, gazing with a morose expression at the blooming lotus plants upon the pond’s surface. They did not mention it. After a final turn, the receptionist and Gemma stood before a doorway, aromatic scents wafting down the passage to them. Above the door was a portrait of a stern gentleman, silver hair wrapped in curls about two prominent horns that protruded from his forehead and angled sharply upwards.

“Enjoy your meal.” The receptionist said with a short bow, before they continued about their business, softly chattering under their breath to each other. As Gemma entered the room, she saw that five wooden tables were set in a ring atop straw mats, a single cushion in front of each one. In the centre was a display of blooming flowers and wheat husks. The table with its back to the door already had a burly figure seated at it, his long locks of tightly curled brown hair falling down the back of his guest robes. She chose the furthest table from the door. The man did not pay any attention to her as she walked around him, focusing intently upon his food. He slurped noisily at the bowl of soup that he gripped in a pudgy hand while he used his right to wrestle a piece of mackerel with a pair of chopsticks. She sat down and opened the lid of the lacquer box upon her table. Within was an assortment of colours and homely scents. There was mackerel and soup, a lettuce salad with a single vibrantly red cherry tomato, a loaded bowl of rice, and what appeared to be a small dessert. Her mind struggled to process exactly where to start. She drew her chopsticks from their container and whispered a quiet word of gratitude for the meal. She tried a small portion of the rice which was pillowy and divinely soft, steam billowing from its bowl. She went next for a piece of fish, sliding a morsel of its flesh from the thin bones. It had a dry, coal-roasted texture that she finished off with a sip of the light miso soup. Her chopsticks moved faster and faster as the neglected hunger that she had let grow for the past day reared its head. The subtlety of the meal, and its complementary balanced palate seemed to fill her as completely as she had been in a long time. Since she was last home, she remembered. She closed her eyes to enjoy the delicately refined flavours as they melded within her mouth.

She didn't notice the woman by her table until she spoke.

"Good morning, Ms Beck."

Gemma was startled as she opened her eyes.

The tall woman sat on the floor across the table from Gemma, leaning her elbow upon a raised knee. She wore a deep scarlet, almost burgundy, suit. Her aged silver hair was tied in a thick braid that wrapped around her neck, threaded through a bulky knitted scarf. Her curling fringe fell over two thick horns protruding from her hairline, with small purple ribbons wrapped about their tips. She had scarlet-coloured eyes that watched Gemma closely from behind tinted glasses. Gemma struggled to place her age, each aspect of her wildly varying to the extent that she looked anywhere between 30 and 70.

"Good morning?" She returned.

“Many call me Madame S. It shall suffice.” She said as she gave her a nod. “I trust you slept well.” Her voice had a slight huskiness to it that settled into the mind easily, as if Gemma was hearing it directly in her brain and the middlemen of her ears were being passed over. “We must apologise for the welcome to our domain you received last night. There was some confusion regarding your arrival. I hope that you will find a more pleasurable experience in your continuing stay.”

Continuing, Gemma noted.

“I imagine that you have questions.”

“I do?”

“About why you are here, what this place is, who we are, etcetera, etcetera. Do continue eating by the way.” The woman said, gesturing to Gemma’s plate. “No need to stand on formality.”

Gemma stared at Madame S, surprised to hear her thoughts voiced in such a way. She gave a nod as she spooned the caramelised custard dessert into her mouth. As she did so, she measured the weight of her words carefully.

“Well, I'm not sure how to word this-”

The custard's heavenly creaminess enveloped her tastebuds completely in its rich vanilla sweetness.

“Oh wow, this is divine.” She said.

“It is, indeed. It's been a long time since we have had a dessert on the menu.” Madame S said. Another person stepped into the room; an elderly woman dressed in a white gown and wearing a patchworked coat. She slowly made her way to a table and sat at it, grinning as she examined the breakfast offerings. She made eye contact with Gemma, and lifted her dessert with a smiling nod as if in thanks.

Gemma didn't know what to make of it. She went to continue speaking, to pull at the threads that Madame S had placed before her, but soon recalled her concern of the unwanted intruder in their world.

“Do you mind if I speak to you elsewhere?” Gemma asked, leaning in with a whisper.

Madame S’s eyes glowed as she leaned in, relishing the theatrics as the sense of intrigue captured her interest. She smelt faintly of charcoal, and she emanated a physical warmth from her person as she leaned over the table.

“Follow me.” She said.

They entered an ornamental garden on the eastern side of the building. Flowers of startling white blended with fuschia and maroon across a hanging wall of greenery. There was a bamboo contraption standing beneath a dribbling fountain, bubbling as it pooled water within its rocking arm. Its centre of gravity shifted and it drooped to release its burden into the garden bed, before swinging back to its position with a crisp crack against the stone at its base.

As they walked into the light, Gemma noticed the intricate pattern writhing in flames upon the back of Madame S’s jacket. As the light caught it, the shadow figures upon it seemed to move and dance to the rhythm of her steps. Gemma caught herself as she stared deep into its fabric, bringing her eyes back up as the woman sat at a bench in the garden and patiently gestured to her side.

"So," Gemma measured her words carefully into a whisper as they sat. "You know that I am not of this world.”

Madame S laughed. It was a loud, round sound, from deep within her belly. Gemma looked about to check if anybody could hear them in the garden.

Crack, went the bamboo against the stone.

“I would have been mightily surprised if you were.” She said. “As it would have made us family.”

Gemma frowned. “Then, there are others like me? The other guests are also from other worlds?”

“They are from your Side. Now, you are on the Other Side.” More than hear it, Gemma could feel the capitalisations; the weight of the proper nouns she was not familiar with.

“Did you summon me here?"

"No, no, that was all decided by the due and proper process.” She waved her hand as if swatting an imaginary fly. “We are no longer allowed to interfere.”

“Proper process?" Gemma followed.

"Yes, it is all by the regulations now. Very regimented and formal. No interference, no mistakes, or so they say. No flavour, that's for sure.” She remarked drolly.

Crack, went the bamboo against the stone.

Gemma was trying to contain her smile. "So, I have been summoned."

"Sure. Summoned, called, reaped, whatever they like to call it now." She asked.

"I can't believe that it’s actually happening. My own proper adventure." Gemma said to herself. “Wait.” She stopped. “What do you mean ‘reaped'?”

Madame S looked at her blankly.

“They're all just synonyms. Summoned, reaped, passed on, called to the Other Side, etcetera, etcetera.”

Crack, went the bamboo against the stone.

“No, some of those words definitely have a unique nuance to them." Gemma said.

"Oh, is that so? Please forgive us. We are never sure what word is best to grapple with for the new souls.”

Gemma felt a feeling that she couldn't quite capture. A sense of dread and that sinking understanding. “I'm not sure I understand.” Gemma said.

“Is that so? We thought that you must have realised by now." Madame S said.

"Realised what?" Gemma asked, knowing the answer.

"That you are dead."

Crack, went the bamboo against the stone.