milliways_bar | (no subject)

Anna looks up.

"I haven't actually decided what I want to be yet. This is for school -- we all have to do a science fair project. Though it's not really a show, like a play or something. The things mostly just sit on tables, and occasionally some of them have demonstrations.

"Are you a scientist?

"I'm Anna."

"All the best kinds of experiments have demonstrations. It's much more interesting and fun to do something applied than to muck about all the time in the clouds with anything theoretical," Nick tells her.

"I am, indeed, a scientist." He sketches a whimsical bow. "Nick Sayre, at your service."

Were Anna aware of certain things, she would most wholeheartedly agree with you, Mr. Sayre.

Perhaps at a later date.

". . . I don't think I could get to the clouds," Anna says, thoughtfully. "I'd need a plane. Unless you mean fog, when the clouds are on the ground. Then you can just walk through them.

"What kind of science do you do?

"And you don't have to be at service here. That's what the rats are for. They're really clever and very nice."

"Not too many your age would have the presence to think of fog as a ground-bound cloud," he says, delighted all over again.

Nick reaches for a chair and drags it out, then sits down in it and props his elbows on the table, looking thoughtful.

"I'm a -- well, to tell you the truth I'm interested in all sorts of things about the natural world and how it works, how birds fly and what makes plants grow in seasons in different ways and especially how things are put together and function and get energy, such as lightning-- it's amazing what you could do with that sort of power, if you could only harness it--"

He's becoming more and more enthusiastic as he talks, but finally her last statement catches up with him and brings him to a halt.

"Rats? Come again?"

Anna listens to all this very carefully.

"Have you tried trying a key to a kite? That had something to do with lightning, I think, and electricity. Benjamin Franklin did that."

Anna's never been terribly clear on why.

On the other hand, one thing she can explain is . . .

"The waitrats," she says, waving at one as it goes by. "They serve the food here. And the drinks. You just them for what you want and they bring it. They're really, really smart. They never mess up orders."

"It draws it," he says. "The metal, that is. Attracts the electricity; lightning's made of it, and if you put the metal up where it is in the sky..."

He spreads his hands as if to indicate a point proven, then promptly leans back on the table again and grins at her.

"Really?"

The rat that Anna had signaled scurries over and squeaks, and Nick startles, then looks down at it.

"Squeak?" he tries.

Anna gives him a look.

Seriously, Nick? Squeak? Seriously?

"I think he's new," Anna says, to the rat.

"Could I have some hot chocolate, please?" she adds. The rat nods and then turns to Nick.

"Hot chocolate?" he echoes, surprised.

The rat, however, takes this as an order, nods again, and dashes away.

Nick stares after it, then looks at Anna.

"See, I told you they were smart," Anna says cheerfully.

Squeak.

"Smarter than any other rats I've ever seen."

Nick looks thoughtful for a second, then slides from the chair to the floor.

"I want to ask it something on its level," he explains.

Anna considers this, and then slides down into the floor, too.

"That seems very polite."

"Only fair," he agrees.

The rat, on the other hand, looks a little confused when it returns with a tray bearing two mugs of hot chocolate. Nick gives it a cheerful smile.

"Er, hello -- do you understand me?"

The rat looks from Nick to Anna, who smiles encouragingly, and then back to Nick and nods.

"Of course he does," Anna says, picking up one of the mugs off the tray.

"Great!"

Nick takes the other mug, then holds out a hand as if to stop the rat from fleeing.

"Can you speak? In a language I can understand? Or write, maybe? I'd love to ask you some questions."

"I have paper," Anna says, helpfully.

"But I forgot to get a pencil."

Alas, poor waitrat, you are trapped. Like . . . um, like a rat in a trap.

Or in an impromptu interrogation.

"I've got something, I'm sure I do - I was going to be writing Sam a letter anyway, so--"

Nick digs in his pockets, looking for something that resembles a writing instrument.

A desperate rodent might be able to flee about now, if it were so inclined.

Anna stands to get the paper off the table.

The rat, who will thank the narration not to attribute motives to his actions, does indeed take this opportunity to run away from the crazy people.

"Oh."

Nick looks disappointed.

"... I guess he didn't want to answer questions."

"Well, maybe he was busy? I mean, he is working."

Anna picks up her cocoa and settles back into her chair.

"True. Well, maybe he'll come back on break. I'll just wait a bit."

He shows no indication of getting up, and grins up at Anna.

"He'll have to collect the tab sometime, anyway."

". . . I think it just goes on the wall," Anna says.

She's ten. She really doesn't worry about these things.

But she points, anyway.

"The..."

Nick stares at the tab board for several long seconds.

"That's amazing," he finally breathes. His eyes are alight. "There's so much new here to find out about."

Anna nods.

"And most people here are really nice.

"And the pie is good.

"And there's a whole outside, too.

"You just can't hurt people while you're here. But you shouldn't do that ever, so it's not really a problem to remember, right?

"Oh, and you can't have sex."

In two years, she would die before she said that. But in the here and now, it's just a not particularly interesting afterthought.

"I wouldn't hurt anyone," he protests-- and then breaks off with a strangled noise, and eyes her.

"I'm not sure you should be talking about... well, that."

"I'm not talking about it," Anna says, sipping her cocoa.

"I'm telling you the rules."

She's helpful like that!