Episode 11
The scene--a stretch of dimly lit, faded yellow hallway, curving up at both ends. Along the length of the hall various people, both human and atevi, have set up makeshift tables of crates and boards. What light there is comes from flashlights and lanterns, and everyone is dressed warmly. Master Mospheiran and Bob sit behind one of the crate-tables, on which are laid out several pairs of socks. Both Bob and Master Mospheiran are knitting with beige yarn.Master Mospheiran: "You know, this is really embarrassing. If anybody from school saw this, I'd never hear the end of it."
Bob: "They're not here, though. On Mospheira it's embarrassing, but up here, it's a valuable skill. This yarn doesn't cost us anything, and socks wear out eventually. Hauling them up here costs an arm and a leg."
Master Mospheiran: "I know, I know. And the yarn was a great idea, I'm still in awe. One hundred percent recyclable, plastic byproduct, warm, soft, and lightweight. And free, for us."
Bob: "Well, it wasn’t exactly an idea. More like an accident."
Master Mospheiran: "Yeah, well, nobody was hurt. Not to speak of, anyway. A couple of stitches, some ice packs, and everyone was as good as new. Well, the shift supervisor was out for a week or two, but she’s fine now. But couldn’t you have settled for a percentage of Mospheiran sales?"
Bob: "Well, see, while I was waiting in the infirmary, it occurred to me--eventually, somebody is going to have to start making clothes up here. Now, Phoenix already makes clothes for herself, but they're not exactly fashionable. And atevi don't want to wear them. We can get some cloth from the ship, but nobody wants to take resources from fueling the ship and rebuilding the station to set up production here. The yarn, see, it's a byproduct, not much extra to make it to begin with, and it makes money. Once the ship is fuelled and more of the station is up, station administration will be more willing to consider other kinds of manufacturing up here. And between your sister and your mother, we've got designs, we've got materials, and we've got a market no one up here but us has made any effort to supply. The socks are just the beginning."
Master Mospheiran: "That makes sense. But the socks are bad enough, without the underwear."
Bob: "Atevi don't want mass-produced underwear. Handmade is the thing. You told me that yourself. And your mom's designs are brilliant."
Master Mospheiran: "Yeah, but making lace is the kind of thing they pants you for, back home."
Bob: "We're not back home. I'm telling you, women will be all over you."
Master Mospheiran: "You've been telling me that. Where are they?"
Bob: "Coming down the corridor right now."
Three atevi women--Atevi 1, Atevi 3, and Atevi 5--approach the table. Master Mospheiran sets down his knitting and rises.
Master Mospheiran: "Good evening, nadiin."
Atevi 1: "Hello, nadi. We have underwear."
She sets a handful of underwear on the crate-table.
Master Mospheiran: "Yes, nadi. And, let's see...seven, eight, nine...and the new ones...." (reaches under the table and brings out more underwear) "...six, seven, eight, nine, and you're all set."
Bob kicks Master Mospheiran. Master Mospheiran blushes.
Master Mospheiran: "Except for one thing, nadiin. You ladies are some of our best customers. We want you to know how much we appreciate your business."
Master Mospheiran reaches under the table again and pulls out three sets of very lacy underwear.
Master Mospheiran: "Now, this isn't what we use for our regular exchange, of course. That's more or less disposable, wear it once and exchange it for fresh ones, nothing special, except it's free for you. But this--this is different."
Atevi 1: "Very favorable, nadi."
Bob: "That's handmade lace, ma'am. My associate here worked on it for weeks. He only hoped you'd like it."
Atevi 1: "How much?"
Master Mospheiran: "For you, nadiin, nothing. As I said, you're our best customers, we appreciate your business. Consider it a thank-you gift. For others, we're asking seventy-five."
Atevi 1 confers with her associates. The three women laugh.
Atevi 1: "And you want, how do you say, we tell our associates buy from you."
Master Mospheiran: "Advertising, nadi. If you like them, and your associates are looking for something nice, for less than they'd pay to have something shipped up from Shejidan, perhaps they would also find this satisfactory."
Atevi 1 conveys this to her associates, who laugh again. She gathers up the underwear.
Atevi 1: "Thank you, nadi."
Master Mospheiran: "No, thank you."
The three women talk some more among themselves, looking at Master Mospheiran. Atevi 1 reaches over to him and puts her hand on his shoulder.
Atevi 1: "You call this?"
Master Mospheiran: "It's a sweater, nadi."
Atevi 1: "Sweater is nice."
Master Mospheiran: "Thank you, nadi. My mother made it for me."
Atevi 1: "I have seen picture. You make sweater with this." (points to knitting needles)
Master Mospheiran: "Yes, nadi. It's called 'knitting.'"
Atevi 1: "You show me. How much?"
Master Mospheiran: "Seventy-five."
Bob: "That includes the yarn for your first sweater and a set of needles."
Atevi 1: "Twenty-five, and I give you coat for your sister. Better than picture."
Master Mospheiran: "It's a deal."
Atevi 1: "I bring you coat tomorrow. If I take off now, I will be, how do you say, undressed."
Master Mospheiran: "Anytime you like, nadi. Let me know when you want to start."
Atevi 1: "Tomorrow. Goodbye, nadiin."
The three ladies turn to go. Behind them is an older, somewhat stout atevi man.
Bob: "Ah, Mr. Bindanda, sir, you've come to see the tomatoes."
The women leave, and Bindanda approaches the table. Bob rises and sets down his knitting, Master Mospheiran sits back down and takes his up.
Bindanda: "You show me now."
Bob: "Of course, sir. The best tomatoes on the station. The best on Mospheira, if you want the truth."
Bob takes a crate out from under the table and reaches for a large pair of scissors. Using the scissors, he begins to pry off the lid of the crate.
Master Mospheiran: "Bob, I don’t think you want to put so much pressure on those while they’re pointing that way."
Bob: "Oh, you’re right. Thanks."
Master Mospheiran: "No problem."
Bob changes the angle of the scissors, opens the crate, and hands a ripe tomato to Bindanda.
Bob: "Try one, sir. They're from my cousin Ted's garden. He always gets the best tomatoes, and the most of them, of anyone in his village. Good enough for the paidhi's table, no question. And a lot better than what you'd get out of Hydroponics."
Bindanda takes a bite out of the tomato Bob offers him and considers.
Bindanda: "I give you one hundred."
Bob: "For the whole crate? Sir, I could easily sell these for three times that. I could have offered these to anyone who came by, and I'd have run out in an hour. But I saved them for you. Now, you and I know that a man of your talent would have no problem making those bland, mushy things from Hydroponics something really special. I bet you do it all the time. But you're not here to buy second-rate vegetables. You're here because you want to give the paidhi the best. Three hundred."
Bindanda: "Two twenty-five, and I give you this."
From under his coat, Bindanda pulls a bundle of shirts with lace cuffs and collars.
Bob: "With all due respect, sir, these are last year's fashions. We'd..."
Master Mospheiran kicks Bob.
Bob: "We'd be honored to accept your offer sir. It's a deal."
They make the exchange, and Bindanda exits. Bob picks up his knitting again and sits down.
Master Mospheiran: "Are you crazy? That's fabric--and not synthetic, either. And real lace."
Bob: "They're the paidhi's old shirts. Not as much yardage. I'm done with this one. Scissors."
Master Mospheiran passes a pair of scissors to Bob.
Master Mospheiran: "Just think how much we could charge for something made from them. More than seventy-five, that's for sure. Atevi 5 would pay three times that for anything that came within a hundred yards of the paidhi, let alone his shirts. And we can get a good picture of that lace and send it down to Mom."
Bob: "Natural fabrics stain worse than synthetics."
Master Mospheiran: (sighs) "Then I guess I'll be doing the sewing. This stuff is too valuable for you to bleed on. Bob, I don't think you want to...."
Bob: "Oh, damn."
Master Mospheiran: "Let me see." (examines Bob's hand) "A couple of stitches, I think. Here."
Master Mospheiran pulls a gauze pad out of his pocket and hands it to Bob, who places it over his injured hand and applies pressure.
Master Mospheiran: "Well, that’s the rest of the evening, then. Wait right there, I’ll pack up."
Bob: "I know the way to the infirmary."
Master Mospheiran: "No, you know the rule. Besides, we’re too close to vacuum, this part of the station."
Master Mospheiran packs up and shoulders their crate of merchandise.
Master Mospheiran: "Let’s go, then. We’ll stop home first, and drop this off--the bleeding seems to be under control."
Bob: "Yeah, it’s not too bad. Hey, do you think Ms. Singh is on duty?"
Master Mospheiran and Bob exit down the hallway.