Don’t Take Life Too Seriously; You Might Get Conscripted

"Today is the 7th waxing of 11th term—"

"Have people really been keeping records for the last 101,254 years?" I cut in.

"—What??"

"The year. It implies that we have records going back over 100 millennia."

"No, it doesn't!" Thesro spat. Mission accomplished.

"Then how far back does history go?"

"I am a scientist, not a historian!"

"So you don't know?" I said, putting on an innocent tone, knowing full well he wouldn't buy it. Amilia had forsaken her "learning" posture today. To the contrary, she now met Thesro's classes with great anticipation, with Amillia champing at the bit during breakfast. Ever since that kerfuffle had wounded his pride, she had enjoyed the cold war raging between us. Usually, I only retaliated. Today, driven partially by a genuine curiosity, I struck preemptively.

"Of course I know! You presume too much!" His hard stare met my expecting eyes. "Umm... The Lunar Lady gave mankind the lunar calendar in the year 98,211," he said, looking triumphant.

"Wait, how could she have given it in the year 98,211? That would imply a calendar of some kind already existed." Amilia sat at the edge of her seat, thoroughly enraptured by this meeting of the minds locked in egotistical combat. Honestly, she had learned more from our squabbles than she had from a year of lectures.

"Obviously, she gave it to us starting at the year 98,211," he sneered.

"Why would you start a calendar at 98,211? Wouldn't year one or maybe zero make more sense?"

"Once again, because that is when she gave it to us. Clearly, there were years before that."

"Yeah, but time goes back indefinitely. Why not just start the calendar at year one and then count backwards for previous years?" It served Earth well enough.

"Pff, because time does not go back indefinitely, fool!"

"I—It doesn't?" I said, dumbfounded. I suppose if the Big Bang Theory is correct, that was technically true, but…

"Of course not." Thesro’s face adopted a smugness that I didn't appreciate. "The Lunar Lady's calendar would start at the beginning of time."

"...So you think the universe—" The door to the study slammed open. Our three heads swiveled to the disruption, shocked to find the small hozenlo from before—Linglang, I think his name was—barge in like he owned the place.

"Olavir!" Shit, he knew my name. Before I could respond or even react, he had grabbed me by the wrist and started dragging me off.

"Hey! You can't take Olavir!" Amilia shouted in protest, while Thesro just stood there, mouth agape.

"I need him for a project commissioned by Conroy." That seemed to give Amilia pause. "He is the only one here who can read proper mathematical notation. Don't worry, I won't require all his time." As jarring as suddenly being dragged out was, I couldn't help but catch the compliment. I turned back to Thesro and gave him my best shit eating grin, and savored the inverted U on his reddening face like a tomato ready to pop.

He pulled me out into the hall and dragged me along at a brisk pace for someone with such short legs. I inquired as to what he wanted, but he only gave tangential replies.

"Even among us hozenlo, it is not too common to find one versed in proper mathematics. So I was quite astonished to find your defacing of my blackboard correct."

"Okay, but why all of a sud—"

"I need an assistant that isn't completely incompetent, and you are the best Reastera has to offer," he said without looking back. Was that a compliment or an insult?

We arrived at the laboratory in better time than one would think, having come from the other end of the building. It looked much the same as the first time, save for different diagrams and figures on the blackboard.

"Your name is—" I started, but got cut off again.

"Linglangbololangfalomerefensis," the long string of syllables came without a hitch.

I stared, bewildered... Was that a name or a sentence? Maybe it was just several names. "Should I call you Linglang? Or maybe Fensis?"

"Don't shorten my name!" He barked, as cross as when he had booted me from the lab.

"...You want me to address you by all three... Umm, four of your names?" That would be really cumbersome. And a real pain in the ass to remember.

"It's not four names! Just one! Don't lump me in with you humans and your—"

"But I'm not a human," I interrupted. "I'm a yutsuu—"

"You get my point." He returned the favor.

"But how can that just be one name?" A name that long was obscene. "Can't I just call you Linglang for short?"

"No! It's Linglangbololangfalomerefensis! Not..." And, using his best mocking voice, finished, "Linglang."

"But isn't that kind of... long?”

"It's not long! It's just the length it needs to be!"

I scratch behind a cocked ear. "Why does it need to be that long?"

"Well, how else is it supposed to be uniquely identifying?" He said as if I had asked him why wiping your ass was a good idea.

"...Uniquely identifying?"

"You humans, with your redundant yet somehow identity-ambiguous names!" He fulminated. "I forget how irrational you all are, and have forgotten the purpose of names. You treat them like the most recent fashion trend."

"...I'm not a human." I specified for the second time.

"Well, you act like one!" Now he just sounded like an irate parent.

"How am I supposed to remember Linglang... Bolalang... Frilomar... Focus." I think I got that right.

He rolled his eyes and then grabbed the bridge of his nose, looking so disappointed, you would have thought I just popped a squat and shit on the floor. "If that is too hard for you, then you can use 'The First Hozenlo Employed by the House Uvald of Alocast.'"

"..." I stared an encore performance. "Can't I just say 'the Hozenlo Employed by Uvald'?" Seemed like a good compromise.

"NO!" He yelled as if trying to blast me with a thu'um. "That is not uniquely identifying!"

"But no other Hozenlo are working for Uvald!" Now, who was unreasonable?

"For now." It was my turn to roll my eyes.

"Well, can't we just add details to their names?"

"No! Since this is not an official name, it won't be commonly recognized. Any hozenlo in House Uvald’s employ could logically use that name." He had carried on this whole conversation like he was berating an ignorant salaryman, and had now grown exasperated as he leaned on one of his sturdy workbenches.

"Official name? What, is there some kind of registry?" I said with a jesting half-shrug.

"Of course there is." He sighed. "It's maintained by the Bureau of Title and Heraldry." I felt my eye spasm. It seemed no place, even alternative worlds, could escape the long arm of bureaucracy.

"Well..." I broke the silence. "What do you need me for?"

"Oh! That's right! Your ignorance had me so preoccupied that it completely slipped my mind." He hopped down from the bench and grabbed a clipboard while bounding away. "Conroy felt this important enough to see me in person, so I have to assume he was serious about his outrageous request. Even put it in writing as well." He adjusted his spectacles as he flipped through the several pages. "Suppose that was appropriate, seeing how specific some of the requests were..." Paper crinkled as he continued looking over the document, all the while shaking his head.

"Umm... Were you going to elaborate?"

"Ah, yes. Of course, of course." Flipping back to the first page. "Now let's see... Amilia's 11th birthday is coming up. It's a prime birthday, so of course it would be held in high regard."

I rested my fingers on the side of my head. "Umm... Why?"

"Oh, right, you're not a human. I understand. We Hozenlo too don't see the point in these 'birthdays' though they should more accurately be called 'birth anniversaries.'" For the first time, his bearing took on an amiable quality. "For some reason, humans consider these significant milestones worthy of celebration and—"

"I meant, why prime numbers?" I almost felt bad cutting him off when he just started being agreeable.

"Well, why wouldn't you give more importance to years with that auspicious quality?" I guess you need some filtering strategy for those latter birthdays, but it sounded like this extended to all years.

"Uhh... Sure, why not."

"Now where was I... Ah, yes. As there will be a big party with lots of influential guests. Conroy thinks this would be a great opportunity to display new engraving technology."

"Engraving technology?" I took a seat at one of the drafting tables; my curiosity piqued.

"Nothing groundbreaking, though tedious in many cases, and nothing that can be acquired prefabricated."

"Can we take a step back..." I held up my hands. "And begin with, what is engraving technology?"

"You don't know what engraving technology is?" Now Linglang—that's right, I'm not using his full name in my inner monologue—looked bewildered. "Were you born in a tree?"

"Well... Yes, actually." That caused him to scrunch his face.

"Then where did you learn mathematical notation?"

"I read..." I crossed my arms and looked away, ashamed of my rural upbringing. Linglang shifted his mouth to one side.

"You are familiar with sigilary, at least?" I gave an enthusiastic nod, even though it had only been a short while since I had learned the basics. "Engraving is embedding sigils into objects, through various methods. However, when referring to engraving technology, or engrave tech, we are generally talking about elaborate contraptions that would be impossible to create through conventional means." I think I understood.

"So would an airship be an example of engraving technology?"

"Yes!" he pounded a hand down on his bench. "Exactly. Unlike basic engravings, nearly all engraving tech is powered by mana vessels of some kind. Nowadays, that usually means ikour charged mana crystals." Ikour again. Asal Alaba had mentioned it as somewhat of a recent commodity and what powered the auto-carriages.

"I’m not too familiar with this ikour…"

"Hmm? Oh, it's just a kind of mana that has been difficult to harvest until recent years." He waved it off as of no particular interest. "Anyway, Conroy wants a showcase of technology. Says there will be no better way to celebrate Amilia's birthday." Linglang gave a dismissive shrug. It seemed to me that Conroy was more interested in promoting his image than anything, but whatever.

"So what exactly does he want us to do?"

"Quite a bit, actually." He held up the clipboard for me. "The rest of this document outlines his request." Looking over the papers, he began to enumerate, "1. Self-opening doors for areas open to guests. Preferably, doors should open only when intended to, but proximity will suffice. Doable," he added. "2. Vocal annotations for the buffet. There will be a number of exotic dishes, and an auditory explanation should accompany any item in question.” He smacked the board with his index finger. “This one is an outrageous request! While theoretically possible, the tedium involved will set new records in patience. Every single sound will need to be individually calibrated..." He held his head as if about to be overtaken by a headache. "At any rate, I have already put in a request for a complete script for the captions. So many engravings..." he muttered. "So many calculations!" Turning to me, "Well, that's why I've brought you in."

I felt my stomach turn over. Despite what you might think, I did not enjoy mathematical tedium. Last time I corrected an arithmetic mistake on a blackboard. Linglang continued with the list.

"3. Holographic dancing people!" He spat with no shortage of derision. "Conroy is out of his mind if he thinks this is going to happen! I'm not a sorcerer!" Pen scratched out on paper as Linglang made some annotations. "He will get animated shape transformations and be grateful for the effort." Well, if sigilary was like coding, I could see how making animated dancing people would be difficult. Look how long it took us to go from 8-bit graphics to anything that resembled a real person.

"4. Moving staircases—like the doors, doable."

"Wait a moment," I interrupted, causing Linglang to look up with a small frown. "Does he intend for us to replace the existing stairways?"

"That is what the directive says."

"But won't the stairways only move in one direction?"

"It would be easy enough to have it move in the desired direction as needed," He dismissed.

"Yeah, but what if two people going in different directions wanted to use it at the same time? It might be fine for normal use, but at a party, I think guests would grow most impatient waiting to use the stairs."

"Hmm..." He scratched at his head with his pen. "That's a fair point. Maybe split the stairways... We will have to give it more thought, but it is still just a logistical concern." True enough, but I was beginning to think Linglang would benefit from more than just my computational abilities.

"5. Music in the restrooms. It seems running water and indoor plumbing are not enough for our 'esteemed' guests; now they need relaxing music to aid in evacuating their bowls." A sigh escaped his lips. "Well, this is certainly more doable than his 'food captions,' but I'll need to find someone with an understanding of music..."

"I might be able to help with that." He set his bespectacled eyes on me. Linglang might not know this, but I had one semester of music theory under my belt, plus a half a lifetime of tunes to draw upon. I could work it out if given enough time.

"Really?"

"Of course!" I whistled out an 8-bit tune as though that were some kind of credential. "As long as you aren't looking for a symphony or anything."

He gave a sideways shrug and started pacing back to the chalkboard. "You creatures do seem to have an eclectic set of interests. Anyways, 6. Dynamic lighting. I have no idea where Conroy got this idea, but he wants lighting for the ballroom as if it were reflecting off multicolored, moving bits of glass. I'm guessing this is some kind of one-upmanship." Conroy wanted a disco ball, essentially. "7. Temperature control for the whole building, though I suspect this one is more for his comfort."

"How many of these does he have?"

"That was the last one." He began writing the seven requests on the board.

"Oh..." I had missed my chance for solidarity. "How long do we have until Amillia's birthday?"

"6 months." He kept writing.

"And how long will it take us to fill this request?"

"6 months." Well, it looked like everything would work out then. "Though the work requested would take an estimated 2 years to complete with available resources."

"So we are getting more resources?"

"Of course we are not getting more resources! Why do you think I brought you here!" He stomped over and handed me a sheaf of paper.

"What is this?" I took hold of the paper.

"There are 17 different kinds of doors that guests may pass through, all with their own characteristics. I will need you to calculate the amount of torque required to swing the doors with an average outer arc velocity of 1 meter per second." I stared, slack-jawed.

"17 doors?"

"Don't worry, I listed where you can find them, as well as specifics about the materials they are made of, so the only thing you will have to gather is the actual measurements." Did he expect me to start right now? I mean, it was within my wheelhouse. But... 17 tedious calculations? And I had to go and collect the data??

"Well, don't just stand there! Get to it!"

Between measurements, calculations, and Amilia demanding more of my time, I returned to my quarter exhausted and fell into my bed. However, remembering I needed to check the mirror, I staggered out of the pile of sheets; I needed to keep informed in light of the growing conspiracy.

[7-1-11-101,254]
The poison failed. I'm not sure what you gave me, but it doesn't seem to be at all effective. I even fed a large quantity to a stray cat just to be sure, and I find it is still alive and well. Please advise.

[7-1-11-101,254]
The poison was ineffective? I saw to its procurement personally and can attest to its authenticity... Regardless, the target needs to be taken out. Use whatever means necessary.

I was glad to see that I succeeded with negating the poisoning, though the other operative seemed suspicious. However, Sistilla still had a hit on her. Hopefully, the spy would continue relaying plans so I could stay abreast of any foul play. Damn... With Linglang's conscription and now this? My shoulders tensed at the thought of it. Why the hell did I even care? Not like I had any stock in House Uvald. I dropped into bed and let exhaustion overtake me.