FRANK: Rogue-D.O. Rodeo.
MORTIMER: That’s it! We’re the Rodeo! The East House Rodeo.
MEL: Before we go off on a tangent—
TRISTAN: Officially we don’t even exist.
REBECCA: Mel is bringing this up because our daughter and grandkids want to come for Easter.
TRISTAN: Oh.
MEL: That’s not a problem, Tristan. DODO allowed family into parts of HQ for the Halloween parties, for Pete’s sake. In fact—
TRISTAN: Yes, parts of the building. There have to be off-limits parts of East House. Definitely the basement.
REBECCA: If our granddaughters are told not to go into the basement, I assure you they will go into the basement. If they are told not to mess around with the cables in the dumbwaiter or the computers in their mother’s childhood bedroom, they will most definitely—
FRANK: They’re curious that way. I like to think they got it from me.
TRISTAN: This building is legally the East House Trust—
REBECCA: Yes, and the two trustees raised their daughter in it, and their daughter is coming home for Easter.
MEL: Speaking of people coming to visit, Tr—
ERZSÉBET: Where will she stay, since Mortimer has taken over her bedroom with his computer paraphernalia? I am in the guest room.
TRISTAN: If we have to send you to a hotel, we’ll make sure it has basic cable. Let’s schedule a dedicated discussion about this tomor—
ERZSÉBET: I have a large collection of literature which I spend most of my free hours reading, and it will not fit in my suitcase, so you cannot ask me to leave. Mei East-Oda and her girls will have to stay with Melisande, who I believe is not yet living in sin with—
MEL: Why is everyone talking over me today? Tristan, just so you know, that sister of yours? She’s probably coming to visit.
TRISTAN: What? Why?
MEL: Because you invited her.
HANDWRITTEN IN RECYCLED-PAPER DIARY
BY ROBIN LYONS
JANUARY 6, NEW YORK CITY
Note to self: Stop bumming cigs from the Weird Sisters, it’s obv not just tobacco. Although that hardly explains what happened last night.
So last night was closing night—big deal for me because it’s my last show before I’m done here. It’s been hecka fun playing Lady M, but what I’ve loved most is: What are the odds that identical triplets would all be in the same program? So of course the director cast them as Macbeth’s three witches! They look amazing onstage together. Their running joke is they claim to be descended from a real-life witch, so they’ve been channeling their ancestral witchiness. And that was a fun joke until tonight.
I’m watching from the wings like I usually do, so I saw the whole thing. They prance out onstage together in their sexy red robes and they say, “Double, double, toil and trouble / Scorch their minds and raze the rubble”—
—and then the one empty seat in the front row bursts into flame.
I’ll just repeat that for emphasis, because WTAF: IT BURSTS INTO FLAME.
Everyone screamed, and people to either side leapt away, but one guy got embers on his coat and one woman’s cheek looked like it had a serious sunburn. Then, as if that wasn’t weird enough, the fire suddenly went out, even faster than it started—there wasn’t even any smoke. It just left a small circle of burned upholstery and foam in the center of the cushion, about as wide as a coffee cup. Smelled awful.
So of course we stopped the performance to help those two, and then security didn’t want us to resume until they figured out what had just happened, but after an hour they hadn’t found anything, and finally they let us start again from the top of act 4. The rest of the show (including the repeated bit with the witches) was normal . . . but wow was that freaky. What a weird way to end my time here. The triplets were like, “Ha, maybe we are witches!” but not like that was a good thing.
Afterward, the triplets and I smoked whatever it is they smoke, and I got pretty paranoid, but the more I think about it, that reflects what I witnessed and not what I inhaled.
And now to confirm my suspicion that we’re all living in some alternate reality, I just got a special delivery of booze from my brother, Tristan.
Post by Rebecca East-Oda on “General” GRIMNIR channel
DAY 1987 (6 JANUARY, YEAR 6)
I am posting this in my capacity as Secretary and Trustee of East House Trust.
Mel and Tristan will recall that in order to facilitate cash flow in the salad days of DODO, five years ago, the following events took place:
Mel went back to DTAP 1640 Cambridge, stole a copy of the Bay Psalm Book, and buried it in a cask. After we dug it up in the present, we created East House Trust as a shell company through which to receive the great deal of money brought in by auctioning off the book. Frank and I were made the trustees, and at the time we set up certain bylaws about how the money would be handled. Some of that money, of course, was spent to move DODO along to the next step, but plenty of it remained within the trust, where it has been quietly growing at about three percent for the past five years.
I have been keeping records for East House ever since, filing taxes, keeping documentation up to date. I considered dissolving it last fall when Frank was moved to emeritus status at DODO, but then Gráinne made her move, and things got interesting. It is because of things getting interesting, and all of our leaving DODO in a hurry, that I am now creating this memo.
The black mark attached to all our names by Blevins makes it impractical for any of us to return to normal civilian life to earn a living. Therefore, it now makes sense to use the East House Trust for the needs of Rogue-DODO, as it is out of the purview of the Department of Diachronic Operations. Below you will find the ongoing expenses and some proposed new ones. I’m not including dollar amounts in this draft, as some change seasonally and some are quarterly or annual. Please comment and amend.
CURRENT, ANNUAL
Utilities (electricity, propane, landline, cable)
Taxes
Upkeep (plumber and electrician on retainer; yard work; cleaners)
RECENT ONE-OFF EXPENSES
Bio-containment expenses: shower stall, hoses, sterile soap, robes, towels, bleach, new washer/dryer
Needles and surgical thread, bandages
Mini-fridge (for storing inoculant)
Glass plates and wax (for storing inoculant)
All expenses related to maintaining new basement ODEC, as well as setting up system for GRIMNIR; all cables, extra electrical pack, etc.
Equipment and software for trip-wire alarms (actual and digital)
Large quantity of canned foods, bottled water, and Soylent, because some of us are concerned Gráinne or Roger Blevins will try to poison us
PROPOSED NEW EXPENSES
Further security measures such as an infrared live-feed camera, mirrored film for the windows, etc.
Cable bundle for Erzsébet’s bedroom TV
Sustenance salaries to allow full-time staff to stay housed, fed and clothed, and insured. This refers chiefly to Mel and Mortimer. Frank and I are all set; Tristan, I assume, has some kind of something from ten years of military service (but if not, put him in the Mel-and-Mortimer category); Esme, Felix, and Julie are taking outside jobs for now and keeping at a deliberate distance.
Salary with health insurance to attract new DOer
Thoughts? Amendments?
—Rebecca
Reply from Mortimer Shore:
Hey, Rebecca, cable bundles are way old school, we just stream stuff. Erzsébet, what are your favorite shows? I’ll see who delivers them and order those. Also, I think we need a better backup generator. The one you’ve got down there looks pretty wonky.
From Erzsébet Karpathy:
I don’t know what you are talking about. I am spending my time reading literature. You have not lived until you have enjoyed Ferenc Molnár in the original Hungarian. Please put some money aside for my literary indulgences, unless you are too poor, in which case
I will accept a library card. DODO was always generous with my monthly allowances.
From Tristan Lyons:
I second Mortimer re: backup generator. Also, training expenses, once we’ve figured out how to train without DODO’s resources. Mel and I did it under our own steam those first few times, but I almost bought it in a swordfight in 1601 because I wasn’t trained properly. Let’s brainstorm what those expenses will be.
From Mortimer Shore:
I have a sweet deal for space with a HEMA group I practice with in Waltham—you and I can spar, Tristan, but also, I bet some of them will be totally into coaching newbies, no questions asked.
From Tristan Lyons:
Great. Also, Rebecca, can you tell us what kind of assets we’re working with?
From Rebecca East-Oda:
I meant to include that earlier. There is approximately $7.3 million in an income fund with three percent yield, giving us about $250K/year. After expenses, that should fend off starvation and servitude for those without other means.
From Mortimer Shore:
“East House Trust: Where Socialist Theory Meets Black Ops Magic.”
From Melisande Stokes:
Not socialism, just pragmatism. Thank you, East House Trust.
From Mortimer Shore:
But are we calling ourselves East House Trust? That lacks pizzazz. What happened to Rodeo? I always wanted to join the rodeo.
LETTER FROM
GRÁINNE to CARA SAMUELS
County Dublin, Vernal Equinox 1606
Auspiciousness and prosperity to you, my friend!
I’ve had a think about the best tales to tell you, for to compel you to join my desperate cause. But I’m writing this (in seventeenth-century Ireland) even as I’m making your better acquaintance (in twenty-first-century America), and until I’m dead sure of your character, I must be cautious.
So, for the moment, I will allow this much: ’tis a three-pronged approach I’m taking, to the saving of magic. I’m a keen learner and sharp as a serpent’s tooth, but not omniscient, and my infernal foes outnumber me. I must be going about this from many angles all at once.
The first and second prongs are of a kind: undoing those things of a technological bent that led to the erosion of magic. I’ve one scheme under way already that interferes with a certain infamous photograph and another that interferes with a natural philosopher.
Meanwhile, however, is the third prong, and ’tis most urgent and most significant to you, Cara. Here ’tis:
I allow that I risk making a right mess of things. As cocksure as I be regarding my own original thinking, sure now I also recognise, from pained experience, how very large the world is and that I haven’t a handle on all of it yet. (Soon, to be sure! But not yet.) Therefore, in case I flounder in my efforts, I must ensure that you, and others of our race, may take up the torch and continue the cause without me if need be. Thus, I’m off to imbed the most potent of all magical spells into a piece of literature so renowned that it will survive even Armageddon. A cockroach of literature, is what I’d call it. With such fierce magic imbedded in it, then even if I perish before my work is done, you and other right-minded witches may find its wisdom hiding in plain sight. ’Tis like taking out travel insurance before a pilgrimage, so it is. ’Tis not at all in my nature to be cautious, but the supreme urgency of the work requires it.
Therefore, soon as I’ve finished penning these lines, ’tis over the water I’m headed, to inscribe that powerful verse—the very words I used to destroy Frank Oda outside Kyoto—upon the original parchment of the Literary Cockroach. Once I have accomplished this, then no matter what befalls me, my great work may yet continue.
And there’s a second benefit to this cautionary undertaking. Imagine that in the future, my efforts begin to take effect, and magic begins its slow, unsteady return to potency . . . it is possible (so goes my theory) that if a witch encounters the written charm, and recites it just as my other efforts are bearing fruit, then there might be just a spark of magic extant in the modern world—outside of an ODEC. As the powers of technology begin to weaken, even subtly, then a wee zing of magic might burst through. Not in any reliable way, of course, at least not yet. But enough for me to measure: Are my efforts rippling across the multiverse, or no? If I place the charm in easy reach of future witches, and they recite it, and there be any evidence of magic coming from their recitation . . . that means I am doing it right!
Careful and canny must I be, regarding these operations, to prevent the Blevins from sensing what I be up to. A bit of a nuisance is the Blevins, surely, but I’ve yet to determine how to manage DODO without him as my “front man.”
In the name of our Lord’s mammy, I wish I hadn’t ever clapped eyes upon Tristan Lyons. Or that if I had, he’d at least kept his clothes off himself a bit longer.
So off I am now to the Old Smoke across the water. When I return here next to write, may I have a fine story to relay of my successes, to show you the merit of my efforts!
HANDWRITTEN LETTER ON RECYCLED PRINTER PAPER
FROM ROBIN LYONS
TO MELISANDE STOKES
DELIVERED TO A TEMPORARY PO BOX
RECEIVED JANUARY 8
JANUARY 6
Dear Mel (if that’s your name),
HA! I didn’t even know Tristan had a “friend,” that’s so typical—in fact, chances are you’re just a coworker laying down a backstory to cover up some covert thing he’s doing. That’s why I’m writing this in a form that you can burn without leaving a digital footprint (see, Tristan, I pay attention).
Although actually a techie friend of mine says they now scan every single freakin’ piece of mail that comes through USPS, so oops. My bad. Next time I’ll go with telepathy.
I don’t know specifically *who* Tristan works for, but I have my suspicions. The thing about my big bro is he’s totally lawful-good, so I know he’s pursuing truth, justice, and the American Way, and I do love him for that old-school ethos.
ANYHOO: Thanks for overnighting the Yggdrasil, that was super sweet of you, I’m genuinely touched that Tristan remembered my Scandinavian hooch fetish. And I bet his invite was your idea, because Tristan has never once in his life suggested I come for a visit. Hope you weren’t intending it as a polite gesture that I’m supposed to know enough to politely decline, because I am not polite and I have no intention of declining. So: Sure! Thanks! It would be cool to meet you if you really exist. I totally get that you need to put me up at a hotel, and that’s a fab graduation gift. The 12th sounds good. I will check in later on, via your possibly bogus email address.
And again, seriously, thank you for the Yggdrasil. There’s only one place you can buy it in Boston, so now I have a general sense of where you hang out. I promise not to tell the bad guys.
Cheers,
Robin
Post by Dr. Roger Blevins to Chira Yasin Lajani, DOer Lover Class, on private ODIN channel, DODO Headquarters
DAY 1988 (7 JANUARY, YEAR 6)
To: Chira Yasin Lajani
Re: New DTAP assignment
Chira—
We are pulling you off the 1097 Antioch DTAP and reassigning you to DTAP 1397 Ascella in the commune of Florence (Firenze). A Forerunner is already breaking trail, and HOSMA will be sending you background material later this morning. This should be a quick turnaround, just a few hours on site, but it is of an especially delicate nature, which is why we’re not posting the change. Do not discuss with any coworkers. Because of the time-sensitive nature of this DEDE I’m canceling your personal leave day tomorrow.
Specific DEDE assignment to come.
—Roger Blevins
PS: Thanks for your good work and loyalty over the years. And congrats on your recent citizenship! I’m sure your siblings will get theirs soon, not sure why there has been such a bureaucratic tangle with that.
Post by Mortimer Shore on “General” GRIMNIR channel
DAY 1988 (7 JANUARY, YEAR 6)
Hi all, Chira just c
alled me on a burner phone and here’s the transcript—our first real-time phone transcript—thanks, Freya!
CHIRA: . . . I was supposed to knock over some beer in a mobile brothel during the First Crusade, but then I received a private message from Blevins reassigning me to this new DTAP that I am not supposed to mention to anyone, so I figured I better mention it to you.
MORTIMER: Good figuring.
CHIRA: They are Sending me to 1397 Tuscany, to an estate near the little hamlet called Ascella, just outside Florence. My DEDE is to free a Tartar slave woman. She’s recently arrived from auction in the Black Sea, and I have to come to her in the night and put her on a wagon headed toward Milan. A Forerunner is already there doing all the groundwork. He will tell me when and where to encounter the cart and what I need to know about the driver, and so on, but because he is male and the slave is female, they want me to be the one to spring her. And I think they feel that if we’re caught, since I am Lover class I can distract the men, but of course they cannot say that in any official correspondence.
MORTIMER: Right. Um. I remember your personnel dossier and I think it specified that you were not somebody to send on a mission requiring stealth or to rural settings.
CHIRA: Yes, I was surprised by this assignment. Blevins mentioned in the postscript about my brother’s and sister’s legal status. This is significant in light of his telling me not to mention this to any other DOers.
MORTIMER: Ugh. Yes. Sorry, I know that’s an Achilles’ heel. How are your sibs anyhow?
CHIRA: Good, thank you. Dhakir is captain of his basketball team and has finally discovered girls, and Aliye is waiting to hear from MIT. She’s a little cocky about it, but I think she is a shoo-in.
MORTIMER: Captain? No way! He’s gotta be the shortest basketball captain in eastern Mass.
CHIRA: Low center of gravity and springs in his feet. Also, we make weekly sacrifices to the devil on his behalf. That helps.
MORTIMER: Ha! Okay, so you’ve been put on this DEDE that doesn’t fit your skill set, and the safety of your dependent minors is being threatened. To me that says Blevins is depreciating competence in favor of compliance.
Master of the Revels Page 4
