Geoffrey Takes it Upon Himself to Continue the Story
1943
Papers are piled high upon the desk, scattered around the floor, threatening to fly out the partially open window or flutter up to the high ceiling. Amidst the chaos one boy reaches up to the top shelf of the thick, overused bookcase. Old copies of newspapers huddle together for solace over the long, dreary days, but the boy bypasses them all in his effort.
"Geoffrey, have some grace about yourself," A high, melodious voice is insinuated into the gloom. The boy jerks around, flailing, his bare feet perching precariously on the edge of the fifth shelf.
"Like housing a trained monkey."
Geoffrey has the good sense to blush, but he excitedly conveys his purpose.
"But Ms. Vice President, Ma'am, I was researching that Smuggling War that began in 1933!"
The woman, donning a conservative grey dress and pink felt hat, raises an amused eyebrow and asks the begged question, "Is that so? And why 1933?"
Geoffrey knows the answer to this one, proud that he finally got one right. The year is an early one, but he knows exactly why the war needs to start then.
"Because that's when that new Liqueur appeared on the Black Market!"
1933 and 1943
The Vice President smiles.
A pause, and… "Three hundred and nineteen points."
It is softly spoken and harsher than any other sentence ever imaginable.
"Out of how many?"
And it is the question's fate to go unanswered.
1943
"So the Liqueur started being sold in 1933, causing excitement among the Mafia and Bootlegging factions, exacerbating old conflicts and beginning the longest, most profitable, smuggling war ever experienced in the country, is that right?"
Geoffrey can only stare at the Vice President. She figured out his reasoning after only a single sentence from him?
"But what about the idea to make the Liqueur, Geoffrey? Or, perhaps, the reason one would need to manufacture it? Or even its earliest incarnation and the events surrounding that and resulting from it?"
Geoffrey is understandably dumbfounded.
1932
"Hey, Maiza."
"Yeah, Firo?"
"Check it out, this stuff is amazing."
Two men share a drink, ice crackling in their condensating glasses.
"Wow, Firo. Where did you get this stuff?"
The boy, who could really only be around nineteen, laughs, tipping a trademark hat, eyes sparkling.
"Luck gave it to me. I should probably ask where he got it."
"He didn't say?" The man adjusts his ever-present glasses, wiping away any foreign contaminants or stray specks.
"Nah. Says Claire brought it around."
"Well in that case…" Maiza sets his glass down. Firo laughs again.
"I'm glad to see you can still laugh about it, Firo."
"If I don't, then I might as well be cryin', Maiza."
And Maiza consents.
1943
"Geoffrey, I give you clearance to investigate this matter, of course. As long as it doesn't interfere with your job."
The woman adjusts her hat and strolls to the official looking desk made of imposingly dark wood.
"I was given this chance myself when I was younger. Another case that needed a fresh eye."
"But Ma'am! This case is defunct already!" Geoffrey is proud of his vocabulary.
1933 and 1943
"One hundred and ninety five points."
"Out of how many?"
1943
"Geoffrey, do you recall something I told you a while back?"
Geoffrey scrunches his face in cognition, buried in thought and desperate to please.
"I… uh… Oh yeah!"
He can almost see the stroll through Central Park, pen and paper clutched in hand, ready to note every skewed hair, every tightly clutched purse.
The Vice President was there with him, explaining, what he believed to be, The Way of The World.
"You see these people?" She said, pointing out the many vibrant and dull men and women. "What do they have in common?"
Geoffrey, never afraid to open his mouth and brag, said "They're mammals!"
And indulgent smile. "What else?"
"They… uh… they are… people?"
A tiny, amused laugh.
"What if… say… all the animals were to escape from the zoo, Geoffrey?"
The boy scratched his head, seeing no connection between the two hypotheticals. "I don't know."
"Well, what would each of these people see?"
"The animals escaping?"
"Why?"
Geoffrey tilted his head. "Well, because they are."
"… fifty eight points."
"Out of how many?"
"Why would… they see the animals escaping?" The Vice President pointed out a couple, walking hand in hand and excitedly pointing out the common tourist traps. Obviously from out of state.
"Because they're here?"
"Very good, Geoffrey."
But Geoffrey didn't know what he did right.
"And why are they here?"
"Oh."
The Vice President smiled at him. Sharper than she was at his age.
"Exactly. And then, what happens when they bump into that old man? And that man saves the two young sisters. They all go home, maybe some don't, and the experience changes them and how they act in the future and affect it. The sisters are alive because of that man, but maybe that man distrusts people now because that couple nearly stampeded him. And they create future events and stories."
She glanced down to see Geoffrey writing furiously.
"They all came together for different reasons, and leave different people because of it."
"Remember to look at all the sides, Geoffrey," The Vice President tells him, as he stands in the middle of the clutter.
"I'll find where it really begins, Miss Vice President, Ma'am!" Geoffrey proclaims enthusiastically.
"Seven hundred points."
"WHAT?"
A number so large it defies the normal begged question.
There are still some things one must learn the hard way.
A/N: Think of this as... season two. Because, as Gustav St. Germain has said, stories have no end. Why? Because they are enjoyable.
Hopefully, eight more oneshots to follow this, each modeled like an episode :) Please tell me if you like the style. It's very hard to capture that show in words, so I decided on a newspaper feel.
peace,
~UA~