Artwork by Pablo Scapinachis.
“Father Karrase, it’s good to finally meet you. Your reputation as an astronomer has earned you notice at Sauris and Ornithis University. Thank you for meeting with me and Eben today.” Professor Mortigana extended her manicured, taloned hand to greet him. As a three-foot-tall orange furred Aleph boy, wearing threadbare oversized clothes peeked out from around behind her.
The priest didn’t pause his reading or even look up from a worn, thick, leather-bound book, the pages yellowed with time. “I only take confessions during the hours posted on my schedule. Check there, my child, and I shall meet with you during the official hours. Good day.” The aged Nagulli priest stayed seated at his excessively cluttered desk, his day-to-day vestments showing more wear and tear than one would expect of his station and position.
His response took her by surprise, she had scheduled an appointment with him. Did he not realize what time it was? Or was he simply rude? His office was more like a small closet, books stacked on the floor nearly reached the ceiling. Some stacks encroached on the legs of his chair, making Mortigana wonder how he was able to get up without disturbing the archaic volumes. Astrological charts haphazardly stuck to the walls at all angles, appearing to be moments away from falling to the floor. The smell of stale coffee filled the tiny space. Mortigana began to wonder if the condition of the office, the lack of open floor space beyond what she and Eben stood in, and a clear lack of an assistant, indicated his position in the church. Either way, Mortigana felt wearing high heels to this meeting had been a poor fashion choice this morning. The amount of walking she’d done to find a disheveled Nagulli priest in dire need of a haircut, in a makeshift basement office, with pipes running across the walls and ceiling, was not what she expected. Mortigana’s nostrils flared, as a high-pitched electronic beep sounded behind her.
A small, spherical hover-bot floated into view from behind the Professor, “Father Karrase, I did check your posted hours. I made this appointment two weeks ago. I have made no error in protocol. The programming of a Personal Scheduler Artificial Intelligence Bot, or PS, is 100% accurate for scheduling, or my owner is liable for a refund .” The electronic voice of the Artie is overly loud and shrill in the small office, a stylistic feature many owners chose to modify when they purchased the scheduling aid. Mortigana preferred the default voice to make others uncomfortable with it. Its momentary purpose completed, PS43 hovered back behind Mortigana, unobtrusive and out of sight again.
“I apologize if I’m late, but PS43 is correct. It did make an appointment for me, also the map of the Cathedral didn’t show your office here on sub-basement two, it indicated the third floor, in the back. It took some time, and quite a bit of asking around before we were directed here to your office. Which, I might add, PS43 discovered was listed on the map as “Steam Pipe Junction #27.” Now, since I have an appointment, may we discuss the upcoming Eclipse in what remains of the Fexin system?”
Her taloned hand still extended, awaiting a handshake. Karrase paused in his reading, raised his head to see who was addressing him. She was tall for a Nidinos, a dark gray complexion, dressed professionally, yet not expensively. Her tail curved around her taloned toes, with polish to match her foreclaws. Running his hand through his receding hairline, he placed a bookmark on the page and closed the book. Its title wasn’t a language that Mortigana could read, but the markings of the Church clearly indicated that it was some sort of scripture. Karrase, exhaled a sigh, stood up, upsetting a small stack of books near his seat, and took her hand, completing the gesture of respect.
“Who sent you? Who put you up to this? Was it Bishop Ruhbane? Or was it that oaf, Franis-Bruce, in security? The two of them do enjoy their little jokes.” Releasing her grip, Karasse produced a cloth from his worn vestments, removed his anachronistic reading glasses, and began to polish them. “There are more than six weeks until the Eclipse. I didn’t expect another trolling from them so soon. It was only last week when those reporters from the Hyper-link News Network ambushed me outside of my favorite breakfast place up the street from here.”
“Yes, the interview, that’s how you came to our attention. My previous requests to discuss the Eclipse were rebuffed by the Church, but I must speak with someone about it. I knew you were the man to talk to about such things. I’ve looked into your published research on the movement of planetary bodies, and how it relates to the Vilithic Church. I found mention of a piece you’d written about the destruction of Fexin, and how it may affect the upcoming cycle of the Galactic Eclipse. However, the paper was discredited in every place you published it. Very little evidence of it even exists. I have theories, and I need to discuss them with you. May I have a seat?” Mortigana pretended to gaze about the tiny office, shifted her feet, and locked eyes with the Priest. “Not that there is room in here for a second chair for me to use.” Eben giggled a little bit too loud, as children sometimes do when adults say mean things to other adults.
Karasse blinked away a moment of surprise and returned his glasses to the bridge of his nose. He rapped his knuckles on the volume he’d been reading. Karasse took a moment to compose himself, his demeanor betraying neither shock nor relief, Mortigana could not discern which.
“You’re not here as a joke at all, are you?”