“Welcome to the Rotunda, sir? Did you have a preference, or would you rather peruse?”
Jovan takes a deep breath and looks around. He glances at the patient attendant from the side of his face. “I think I better take a walk around.”
“Very well sir, take all the time you need.” says the attendant, smiling, as she turns to the next arrival.
Jovan turns around. He’s hesitant, but he knows he has time to make up his mind. There’s a sadness to him. He has to find his way in this new location. There’s so much unfamiliarity. One of the traits he wants to deal with is the pretense and obstinance. In a brand new, strange place, he figures it’s a good spot to learn to absorb, and be grateful.
Scanning the vast, open streetscape, Jovan sees strangers, most of whom are in the same situation he is. They walk, look around. Some of them stop and speak with attendants. The help is diverse. Some are vendors, some are town workers, sporting brooms and dustpans, or window washing equipment. These are people who may have some insights, since they’re obvious locals.
There is another set. These are interesting characters. They wear long coats, and wear wide brimmed hats. They walk with their heads back, and their chests out. They smile widely, and they don’t wait for people to come to them. They address the scene something like barkers, or criers. Sometimes they’ll walk up to a person to offer help, or friendly conversation. Jovan is puzzled. He doesn’t feel acclimated. He feels a tap on his shoulder.
“How are you sir? Is there anything I can help you find? Are you looking for someone, or some thing?” Jovan turns around to encounter one of the fellows of long coats. “Well, I don’t know what my assignment is, I haven’t been given any orders, or a contact. I’m kind of pantsing it, I guess.”
“Ah, I see… I see. Well, who was the last person you spoke to before you left? Did they give you any instructions?” The kindly coat man asks.
“No, no.” Jovan says. “It seemed like the usual activity, nothing really comes to mind.” Jovan answers.
The coat man responds. “Nothing comes to mind… sir?” He raises an eyebrow, tilts his head, and looks around the rotunda. Jovan mirrors the man’s examination of the scene. It’s mostly people who seem to be in a similar circumstance. They appear unprepared for their surroundings as well.
Jovan looks down at his watch. The hands have stopped. He looks up at the man, whose eyes are not glaring at Jovan, but they are wide, as if to suggest something. “I need time to think about this.” Jovan says.
The man of the long coats, tips the brim of his hat and lowers his head.“Very well sir, take all the time you need.”
483 Words
Check out my new podcast. I interview writers, and we try to figure out where the hell stories come from. New Episodes every Monday. Episode 004 this week.
The premise for The Arc of the Bard, is that the phenomenon of original thought is fascinating and mysterious. Storytelling is a facility of that phenomenon. Artificial intelligence compiles data and calculates previously existing information. But what is the origin of human thought? Where do stories come from?
