THE LAST MIDGARDIAN
STUDIES
Heimdall was in one of his rare moods. It was a day where he was at leisure to speak and indulge Jane's insatiable curiosity. She knew better than to miss the opportunity. With the revolt on Vanaheim quashed and the uprising on Nidavellir's third moon now last week's news, his sight and attentions were temporarily at liberty to rest and wander the cosmos for her amusement.
The platter of fruit and cheese he requested lay nearly empty on their silver platter. He finished a flask of wine as he sat in a chair, his posture no longer rigid with the formality of his role as gatekeeper or the eyes of his countrymen upon him. For a few moments, alone in the observatory together, he melted like iron in a forge. He removed the fittings of the gatekeeper, both external and internal, to lounge at ease as a man.
He answered her questions between sips of wine. For some time, she had been observing a bright red and blue emission nebula in the southwest quadrant of the Asgardian summer sky. With so many other pressing issues stealing his attention, she had been forced to wait. Her very insignificance was what granted her these stolen secrets and crumbs of knowledge from Asgard's gatekeeper, but her relative unimportance was also what kept her from having constant access to his wellspring of knowledge.
"That one is called 'Thymnire', a word in the tongue of the Aesir four generations past, which means 'the herd of war horses,'" Heimdall said. "You see how the shape of the edges resemble horse heads and hoofs?"
Jane nodded eagerly. "They do kinda look like horses."
"Our seers for generations have said it is fortuitous to march into battle when the Thrymnire guards the steps of our warriors and grants us favor with the Norns."
"The fact that it is only visible from late spring to early autumn helps with that," Jane observed.
"Aren't you the clever one, Jannike? Yes. It surely aids the fortunes of our warriors to wage war when the weather is in their favor, thus supporting the prophecy."
With an indulgent smile, he motioned for her to use one of the long-range telescopes he kept in a dark corner of the observatory. She grinned in excitement and set it up, just as he had taught her. He never required the use of technology to see into the cosmos. He could see and hear all just by focusing in on what he wished to observe. This tall, metal telescope was a strange combination of technology and magic and no matter how many questions she asked, she never could quite understand the mechanics that made it work. But work it did and her heart skipped a beat as the cloud of ionized gasses filled her lens.
"I have watched the birth of this young star for almost five thousand years," he told her. "The stars are never as magnificent as in their first and last breaths."
She memorized each wisp of scarlet clouds and cluster of stars in the lens. It was breathtakingly beautiful and it it stirred that deeply hidden crevice of her heart which sang and danced and came alive when she gave her mind fully over to study the heavens. It was this vibrant pulse of life that first led to to study the stars and it was these stolen moments which kept her going and gave her something to look forward to, in the midst of everything else.
Moments like this were what she came to Asgard for in the first place, though her position as Heimdall's "assistant" turned out very differently than she expected. She did "assist" the gatekeeper - in every imaginable way, except in research. Heimdall's duties rarely permitted him the freedom to leave the observatory so Jane handled all his errands and tended to all his needs. Her room, chosen because of its proximity to his own much larger, grander suite, allowed her to hear him whenever he called for her. It also gave her intimate insights into the current affairs in the Nine. Even with her "inferior mortal" hearing, she could glean the daily reports sent to the palace, the movements of the Aesir across the realms, and all incoming visitors into Asgard, whether for trade, diplomacy, or tourism. She could watch and listen while she waited to be summoned again.
Heimdall left her to entertain herself with the telescope. He replaced his golden armor over his tunic. As he did, his whole bearing froze over as if we were turned into a proud statue carved to guard the gate into the Realm Eternal with his sleepless vigil.
When she heard horse hooves on the bifrost, she silently left the telescope and vanished through a side door that led into her room. It was more of a glorified storage closet than a proper room and barely fit her small cot and a writing desk. From her bed, she could look out through her one window and out to where Asgard ended and the cosmos began. She loved that window.
In her notebook, her most prized possession, she wrote it all down. A much appreciated perk of Asgardian notebooks was that they never ran out of pages. For decades, she poured all her observations and hypotheses into that book and its grew along with her data. She kept careful notes of everything: the way the star clusters migrated through the sky, the shifting of the planets, the orbits of the celestial bodies, she kept track of it all. She scoured her mind for every detail she could remember of the Thrymnire Nebula and filled page after page of her notebook with her observations.
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At first, Jane assumed it was a holiday of some kind. There were no visitors that day, something she had only seen the day that construction occurred in all the central halls of the museum. On this day, the main entry doors remained shut. A robotic cleaning crew came and spent twice as long scouring the floors and shelves and displays. They were followed by another crew of robots who draped colorful ribbons from the ceiling, laid blue carpets on the floor, and set up tables of food in the far side of the exhibit hall. The Owner came through after to inspect it all and he barked out orders with twice as much vehemence as normal. His employees jumped to rearrange or reclean whatever he pointed at with a frenzied fervor until he nodded his approval and allowed them to relax again.
The robots left and the Keepers followed the Owner into a back room of the museum, leaving the exhibition hall in a strange, tense silence, as if the hall itself were holding its breath. To Jane's surprise, she realized her senses were keenly aware of all that was going on around her in a way she had not experienced since the last time she refused a meal. However, their meals had arrived with all the predictable precision of the phases of the moon or the movements of Orion across the night sky.
She leaned against the glass, unsure if she should enjoy the full alertness of her faculties or wish for their comfortable and familiar dullness returned. She closed her eyes and wondered what kinds of holidays this place held. Was she on a planet or some kind of space station? Did anyone live here other than the beings she saw around her each day? Perhaps a thriving alien metropolis lay outside these halls filled with people and plants and a sky and life. Perhaps there was nothing and they were a hunk of manufactured metal floating through space - a kind of nomadic extraterrestrial version of Ripley's Believe It Or Not.
She decided it was definitely a vibrant alien planet and that this was a holiday to celebrate their independence from a former colonizing power. All the inhabitants would wear their finest clothes, dance in the streets, eat cake and roasted sausages, and sing to marching bands. She imagined it all and decided it was a magnificent holiday. She closed her eyes to visualize it all and inevitably, her mind wandered to holidays spent on Earth. She thought of pie and turkey and parades and roasted chilis and strings of brightly colored lights. She thought of the hot beignets and coffee she had that Valentine's Day in New Orleans and the fresh baked French bread she ate in Marseilles on New Year's Day. Then she remembered her mother's special Jello salad she always made on Christmas. She said it was Grandma Foster's recipe, but Grandma Foster denied it till the day she died.
Grandma Foster always brought the wine and that awful green bean casserole. After a few glasses of merlot, Grandma sat at the piano and began to sing. It didn't matter which holiday it was, she always sang. Jane decided that was one tradition she could continue. She opened her mouth and began to sing. She sang every Christmas carol and stupid patriotic ditty she could remember. Then she morphed into old hymns and her mother's favorite jazz songs. She sang the songs she learned at camp as a Girl Scout and the songs her old boyfriends sent her on mixed tapes in high school.
When her voice grew tired and rough, she let her songs morph into quiet hums and she opened her eyes, breaking herself out of her reverie. Red eyes watched her carefully, curiously from under his arm. When he noticed her, he lifted his head, cocked it to one side, and pressed his hand against the glass. She mimicked him and met his smile with her own. With the greater mental clarity this day gave her, she realized something about him she never had before. His smiles never revealed his teeth because his lips were sewn shut. Tiny threads connected his lips to prevent him from opening his mouth more than a few centimeters wide and pulled at the delicate skin around the incisions.
Her other observation was the pair of silver bracelets he wore fitted around his wrists. They were so tightly wound that it would be impossible to remove them or even slip them up to his elbows. They were not decorated in any way and the skin around them appeared chafed and mottled, as if the bracelets emitted heat and burned at the skin around them.
The bang of a door made them both jump. The Owner arrived, adorned in clothes like Jane had never seen him wear before. His brightly colored purple and fuchsia robe was embroidered with silver geometric designs and glowing gems. A white ruffled collar matched his protrusion of white hair. Silver and magenta make-up lined his eyes, forehead, and chin in matching swirling patterns. His feet were shod in curled-toe slippers also inlaid with gems while white gloves covered his eloquent fingers.
A row of Keepers lined up behind him on either side of the designated walkway. From the main entrance to the banquet tables, they stood motionless and perfectly uniform in both dress and appearance. Each wore a short, pink dress that glistened in the bright overhead lights. Each held their hands folded as if they carried an invisible box in their hands and each held a wide, forced smile on their perfectly manicured, identical faces.
With a flourishing motion from the Owner, a line of visitors entered the hall as silently as if it were a funeral. They were humanoid and less strange in both appearance and movements than the Owner and his acolytes save for the fact that they were entirely golden, from head to toe. Every feature, article of dress, and smallest detail appeared as if they were forged of gold. There were only about twenty or so men and women who came into the hall. They moved with a grace that would put the finest ballerina to shame and their height towered over the Owner as they approached. The Owner met them with an obsequious bow and greeting.
With a flourish of his gloved fingers, he led them through row upon row of his beloved peculiarities and personally acted as tour guide. He paused at each display to lecture about each and answer any questions in his slow, meticulously fragmented manner of speech. The visitors followed and whispered to each other as their golden eyes took in everything they saw. She never saw a single smile or heard a single peal of laughter.
After their tour, the guests were brought into hall for their meal. The Keepers fluttered between tables and chairs, pouring drinks and dispensing utensils while the guests all ate with entirely unimpressed expressions on their faces. They were so emotionless that Jane might have thought they really were robots if she hadn't seen them up close and noticed the rise and fall of their chests. No conversation or music filled the hall, but only the sounds of metal dishes against metal tables, the quick footsteps of Keepers, and the strange, clickish speeches of the Owner.
When all were satisfied the the banquet was cleared away, the Keepers dispersed throughout the exhibition hall. Each stood in front of one display cage with such intentionality that Jane knew they were following orders and the displays were not chosen at random. One by one, the Keepers pressed a button on each of the chosen cages and the doors opened. Jane instinctively backed up and huddled against the back of her cage as a Keeper placed manacles around her hands and placed a set of chains around her neck. A muzzle was installed over her mouth. With a sharp tug, she was led out of her "home" and into the hall of the museum.
Since the day she first arrived, she had never once left her cage. The musty smell of the unfiltered, much colder air hit her like an old attic and the novelty of seeing "something else" was so great, she nearly forgot to keep walking until another tug on her neck chain forced her to continue. The Keeper brought her to the center of the hall where the visitors sat in a semi-circle facing a series of poles. Her arms and ankles were chained to a pole in the center of the room, specially installed for the occasion. The metal grates of the floor dug into her soft, shoeless feet and she wished, not for the first time, that she had something on more substantial than the light Roman-style toga that fell to just above her knees. She shivered and goose bumps prickled her arms in the stale air.
She was not alone. Eight other creatures were similarly led into the center of the room and chained to a pole. On her immediate left, about a foot and a half away, towered Sagittarius. Standing beside him, she could see how tall he really was. His grim face remained stoic as he was chained. She recognized Orion and Andromeda, other humanoids from cages near her own, but the others she had not seen before. She assumed they came from a different wing of the museum.
Just for a moment, her gaze met that of Sagittarius and she saw her same sense of embarrassment and shame was shared. She tried to give him a half-hearted smile and wished again she could speak with him. He nodded his head slightly and then winked. She was so surprised at the unexpected gesture that she almost laughed out loud. His red eyes glistened with a brightness and mirth she had never seen before and she wondered how different he would be if he were not kept sedated.
The Owner spoke with a flurry of hand motions and a bow before moving aside to watch from a corner. Then the Guests stood and dispersed through the room to approach each chained exhibit. Around and around, they appraised each bound creature with clicks and whispers and impassive, gawking stares. They brought out measuring devices -computerized scanners and thermometers and test tubes for follicles of hair and skin and blood and saliva. The long, malleable strips of measuring tape were wrapped around the bound limbs of each by cold, foreign hands and Jane shifted uncomfortably at the sudden contact. Closer and closer were they studied until the goosebumps on Jane's body were no longer due to the chill in the air but her unease at being handled and poked and prodded like a hamster in a science lab.
A man and a woman stared into her eyes and removed her muzzle to look at her teeth and under her tongue. They measured her muscles and her toenails. They used some kind of device to measure her bones and take readings on her internal organs. They projected a display of her entire digestive system before mapping her neural pathways. She was fascinated for awhile, until the man approached with a scanner and tried to remove her toga from her shoulder. She flinched back. The woman approached with a syringe and attempted to lift up her dress from her knees. The chains on her hands and feet and neck clanked as she fought against them. Then the Keeper beside her lifted a device to her neck. Her mind went blank and she knew no more.
When she next woke, she was back in her cage. At first, she wondered if it had all been a dream. However, the bandages over where samples of blood had been taken told her otherwise. That night, it all did come back in her dreams. Her sleep was full of test tubes and cold hands and quiet whispers. She woke with a start and the feeling that her skin was crawling. She tried to pull her toga a little lower down on her knees and she huddled herself into as small a ball as she could in the corner of her cage.
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Author's notes:
Thanks to all you readers for joining in this journey!
Guest reviewer Abelia: thanks for the review and the encouragement to keep going! You got me motivated to get this one together! :)
