SC - Futhorkr


Released: 11/12/2019

*Flight from Caliban*

A treatise of historical speculation presented to the 75th annual meeting of the Origin Society of Explorers and Affiliated Organizations, November 2949

Presented by the right honourable Bilfor of Luminaire to the Sub-Committee for Historical Research under annual grant

#48-104


FUNDING PROVIDED BY:

The Arch-e-ologists Guild

with major consideration by

REDACTED

and a grant from

The Treasury of the
Origin Society of Explorers

in addition to generous support by

Origin Jumpworks, gmbh.


A bright, clear aria wavers in the concert-hall;

“over the seas,
and far away,
awaits our home
and a brand new day

sleep now, chi-ld,
safe inside our hold,
no waves will rock you,
no pi-rates bold.

on a sun-bright beach,
someday we'll stand,
and build our future
with new world sand.

we sail for freedom,
we sail for wealth,
we sail for safe-ty,
we sail for our health.

sleep now, chi-ld,
safe down in our hold,
no waves will rock you,
nor vanduul, oft told.

from Caliban we sail,
for life and limb we flee,
our children's children will re-turn...

sleep now, chi-ld,
safe down in our hold,
no waves will rock you,
no dan-gers old.”

A tall man in tails-and-tophat adjusts his monocle and turns his gaze dramatically from the panoramic view-roof of the 890's main hall. He pivots on one heel to address attendees in-the-round, which sets a myriad of medals and ribbons clinking. The mock-brogue affect of his voice borders on the offensive.

“Thank you, my dearrr, for that stirrring rrr-endition of the Futhorrrkrrr Lullaby.”

His voice carries with only slight amplification into every corner of the pregnant silence; seventy-odd of his colleagues wait impatiently for the customary introductions.

“Honourable Gentlemen and Ladies of the Origin Society of Explorers and Affiliated Organizations; I am Apprenticing Chancellor, 13th degree, Bilfor of Luminaire; historian, explorer, imbiber, financier. Surely, my credentials are well known throughout our fine halls, I shall not bore you with their recitations. I come before you tonight, on the cusp of this auspicious new half-century, to relate to you a tale of existential woe. The tale I have for you will set the tone for our next decade of exploration! When you have heard it, you will hardly be able to restrain yourselves from throwing credits at the stage for my next expedition into the Black!”

A chuckle here, a groan there. Somewhere deep in the bowels of the ship a dish clattered, followed by a muffled expletive.

“Be you not hasty to dismiss it, for my tale will frighten and titillate! Entertain and educate! Bewitch, and bewilder!”

“Get on with it!” came a shout from below the main dias. The crowd tittered; the Secretary General tapped his cane for order.

“See, my friends and colleagues? Your excitement for my tale is unrestrainable! I suppose I should cease with the dramatics and let the tale speak for itself.”