Chapter 28 - Better Friends Than Enemies
Three days later, Myria was beginning to settle into routine. The first day she had felt uncomfortable flashbacks from the early days of her existence when she had traveled daily from the hotel to Clockson's shop on Cunning Artificers, but the feeling passed more quickly than she had feared, and the nightmares she had also anticipated didn't surface. Instead, she felt… content. She was no longer faced with Jonathon's uncle's displeasure through the entire day. She had her own bed and the room had sufficient surfaces and storage locations for her possessions.[1]
And she had a routine. She found that this was important as well. Each morning, she awoke and ate some waferbread and drank a small amount of water. Chose from among her limited wardrobe, and sat in the hotel lobby, watching humans… other humans, as they conducted their own affairs, until Cheery arrived to escort her to the bakery.
There, she would change into a rather plain outfit that Jessica had obtained for her, and help with the noontime rush. It was enlightening, for her, to see how she was treated differently based on how she was dressed. Several times, she would see people from the hotel lobby later at the bakery, and while they might have shown respect or deference at the hotel, when they saw her at the bakery it was as if she were a completely different person. Most of the time, they didn't even notice her. Bustling about the bakery in her rough clothes, she became just another worker, providing for their needs.
It was thought provoking.
The person inside stays the same, but they are perceived differently based on their appearance, and the surroundings. She found herself following this train of thought further.
"Jessica, I have discovered something."
Jessica put on a dramatic face, and pivoted around staring into corners. "What?! Here? In the bakery? Ohmigosh!"
"Yes. It is this, that the way others perceive you can influence how you perceive yourself. Is that correct? That they can change who you are?"
Jessica's amusement fled, and she looked thoughtful. "Yeahhh… I guess it depends on how much you care." Her expression turned sour. "And whether you like yourself in the first place."
"So some people will reject the influence?"
"Hah. That's a funny way of putting it."
They both started slightly as Jonathon joined them. "What are you two conspiring about now?"
Jessica grinned at him. "Oh nothing. Myria was just discovering peer pressure."
"Oh greaatt," Jonathon drawled.
"Peer pressure. Influence exerted by ones equals?"
Jessica thought. "Something like that. I guess it's not just that, though. You also get pressure from nobs," she winked at Myria, "no offence, and from family." That got a dark look from Jonathon.
"And how do people respond to this?"
"Well, some people just ignore it. Like me." Jonathon snorted, and Jessica popped him with a rag. "Then there's Jonathon, who is susceptible to all sorts of evil influences due to a basic weakness of will."
"Hey!"
"Then there's ones like my friend," she backtracked at a look from Jonathon, "my ex-friend Billy Woolsey, who rebel against it and actually go out to do the exact opposite of what everyone one wants them to do."
Myria thought for a few seconds. "But, that does not seem logical. Is not that just as bad as doing what everyone wants them to do? They are still being controlled by others."
"Bingledy bingledy beep! Got it in one!"
"Bingledy…"
Jonathon patted Myria on the shoulder. "Don't ask. She picks this stuff up from her friends, and there's only half a brain between them."
Jessica punched his arm, playfully. "That's not true, they just turn them off when they get together. And at least I have friends."
"Back to work you three," yelled Aunt Rosemarie from the area of the ovens. "The dough don't bake itself and the flour don't sift itself."
"Sorry ma!" Jessica yelled back. Then in a lower voice, "See, the man always trying to bring you down."
On prior agreement, Cheery returned each afternoon and escorted Myria back to the hotel. Myria had been pleasantly surprised the second day when Jonathon had said he felt well enough to walk with them.
"They can survive without me for the afternoon, now that Jessie's back in full swing."
So instead they walked on past the hotel and up Peach Pie and Broadway to The Maul, doing what Cheery had termed "window shopping," which seemed to consist solely of commenting on things you did not really wish to purchase.
It was on the way back that Cheery, lagging slightly behind, stopped and frowned slightly. "Myria, do you smell that?"
Myria looked at Jonathon, who shrugged, and inhaled gently through her nose. Soft currents of air, bearing its kaleidoscope of Ankh Morpork odors wafted through nasal passages. Thousands upon thousands of molecules impacted olfactory receptors, triggering them and sending an equal or greater number of nerve impulses to the brain for filing and interpretation into broad categories: food smells. Human smells. Animal smells. Plant smells. She gave Cheery a quizzical look.
"Cheery, I smell many things. Can you be more specific?"
"Yeah. It's a sort of funk… like…"
Just then, the wind changed direction slightly, and Myria picked up an entirely different cocktail of odors, which her brain helpfully translated. "Does it smell like… a damp floor covering in a public urination facility?"
Jonathon laughed but had a slightly shocked look on his face. "Well that's pretty descriptive, and horrifying."
Cheery just looked thoughtful. Being around male members of the watch and Igor's lab had given her some insights she'd rather not have been exposed to. "Hmm… That's the one."
Memory linked up with smell, providing an image to go along with it. It was amazing how closely smell was linked to memory. "Ah, I am familiar with that creature."
Jonathon gave her a look. "What kind of a creature?"
"It is a dog."
The smell reached Jonathon's nose, and he grimaced. "You're kidding me. That's horrible."
"Oh Fanks," came from an alley nearby.
Myria began moving toward the darkened alley entrance. "I assure you, I am not. Can you excuse me for a moment?" Cheery made to follow. "No it is safe, I assure you."
"Myria."
"Trust me Jonathon. It is just a… 'nice doggy'."
"Har har," wafted from the alley. "Never been called that b'fore."
Making it to the alley entrance, she closed her eyes for a moment to allow them to adjust to the dim light, then opened them and, following the smell, bent down and faced an even darker spot framed by some refuse and a couple of boards, where a small and very ratty looking dog appeared.
"Ah, my friend Gaspode."
"Right. Friend." An ear went up and down. "I seen what you did to them men, missy. Not sure bein' yer friend is exactly good for the longevity sort o' fing."
Myria felt a sudden disappointment. "You saw?"
"And smelled." Both ears went back. "Widdled meself too, you can be sure."
She grimaced. "I am sorry. I was not myself at the time."
Gaspode tilted his head to one side. "Not yerself. I spose you wuz some other freaky lady what looked like you, floated above the street, and turned stuff to dust." He scratched. "Yeah, well I just hope that lady doesn't show up again then."
"I hope that as well. But if you know this, then why are you here?"
"Way I figured it, bein' yer friend might be risky, but one thing for sure, bein' yer enemy is worse." His voice went muffled as he gnawed on at his side. "Better fafe than roadkill fez I."
"I see. Yes that is logical. Thank you."
He turned a very canny look on her, and tried to work the taste of himself out of his mouth. "Fink nuffin of it. Though, 'nuther steak wouldn't go amiss. Maybe accidentally left out just behind the bakery, if you get me?"
"I shall see what I can do."
"Myria, who are you talking to in there?"
"The 'nice doggy', Jonathon. Do not be concerned."
"That'll go over well. But enough o' that. Word is that some o' Snakes cronies are still mucking about, and they're out to get you."
"But why would this be so? I no longer have the gold."
"Search me," scratches, "or better not. Mebbe it's personal-like?"
"Thank you Gaspode. You are a good friend."
Myria, were you actually talking to a dog in there? Or was that a joke?
"I was not joking. It is a long story."
"I'll take your word for it. Stranger things have happened."
"Yes. And shall likely continue."
The next morning, Jessica caught Myria hiding a rather expensive steak behind some boxes in back of the bakery, and said not a word.
[1] Because everyone knows that the only real purpose in life is having a place for your stuff. You may be away from home, but you know you must be ok, cause you have a place for your stuff.
[A/N: Thank you to all that have stuck with me thus far. Hope you are still enjoying it. Please drop me a message or a review and let me know, feedback is always a treat. Thanks!]
