Despite a wardrobe full of lovely clothing, Miss Polestar insisted that it was necessary to purchase a new dress for the evening. I have a feeling that her excuses are merely that, and her real goal is to spend time indulging herself to take her mind off things. I cannot fault her for that.
Leaving the ship, we headed out towards the closest of New Atlantis' several mercantile districts. As we walked, it was difficult to avoid being swept along in the hustle and bustle of the city, the walkways crowded with people, machines and humans alike, all of them talking and laughing and buying and selling. It was almost too much for me, though I made it through by focusing on Miss Polestar and the rather… distinctive hat she had picked out for the occasion.
Keeping up with Miss Polestar in and of itself was a challenge. We were accompanied on the trip by Hans, the messenger, who would handle any messages that need to be sent back to MSY Mercury or to Miss Polestar's suitor as they came up, and between the two of us we almost lost our miss in the crowd several times. The four days it took to get here must have made her listless or even spacesick, because it seems like she was attempting to rid herself of an excess of pent-up energy by racing to shop windows or disappearing around corners with nary a thought. Perhaps this is why she wore that particular piece of headwear, as it made Miss Polestar much easier to find whenever we lost track of her.
"Next time, I am going to vork for somebody who ist old or tall… or old und tall." Hans complained, after she somehow managed to escape across a busy street to stare at the doorway of the Stellar Cartography Society's meeting hall. We caught up to her, and I soon noticed the somewhat glum look on her face as we walked away.
"I promised Mother I wouldn't join the Society until I was well and properly engaged. She's really concerned I won't find anyone." Miss Polestar said dejectedly, twirling her parasol idly, the galaxy of holographic stars within swirling wildly. "She worries that I will go haring off on some adventure immediately and abandon my duties if I did so."
"I see." I said neutrally.
"Which, to be fair, I was thinking of doing. She did, however, allow me to purchase a subscription to The Stellar Cartographer's Monthly Periodical Addressed Particularly to Young Ladies of Distinction."
"That's a bit of a handful of a name." I observed.
"Right? At finishing school we just called it the Monthy Periodical." she said.
"I'm not sure that's better. That might actually be worse."
"The girls in the fencing team had a particular sense of humour. Made it very funny the days that new issues arrived. We had our teachers so confused."
We continued a ways past a small public park, where there was something of a commotion and a small crowd gathering. Curious, Miss Polestar drifted closer, and I began to hear the voice of what I can only really describe as a 'Showman'.
"Come one, come all and see the greatest discovery of our times! Be one of the first to witness the unveiling of the secrets of the cosmos!"
Eyes wide, Miss Polestar near shot forward to see what the man had alluded too. Were it not for her hat and parasol I believe Hans and I would have lost her right then and there.
We pushed through the crowd to see what the fuss was about, and on the other side was some sort of grotesque organic husk, preserved in a large jar, wrapped in strips of yellowed gauze.
"You see, here it is! The first biological remains of alien life! So recent, so well preserved! They may be lurking in nearby stars now, observing our every move."
Miss Polestar did not look impressed.
"Excuse me, good sir, but I believe there may be some sort of mistake."
"What do you mean, my dear?"
"Well, that is clearly a half-decayed Atalantean Ray, taken from the seas below, wrapped in gauze and dunked in formaldehyde, isn't it? The tips of the ray decay first and expose the cartilage structure, so it looks like hands."
There was silence in the crowd. Humans and Machines alike looking back and forth between the Showman, who looked somewhat nervous, and Miss Polestar, who was wearing a look most might describe as impetuous.
"... young miss, where do you get some outlandish ideas?"
Oh, she did not like that. I watched with increasing satisfaction as Miss Polestar began to lay into the Showman verbally.
"I could ask the same, sir. This seems like such an obvious scam, and in spitting distance of the Stellar Cartographer's Society even! If you are so confident in your discovery, why not walk another hundred meters and present it? I'm sure they will be impressed."
The showman quickly started packing up, claiming that other systems needed to be enlightened, and the crowd quickly dispersed. Hands on her hips, Miss Polestar huffed as she watched the discredited showman shuffling away. "Charlatans." She said, as if that explained everything.
"Truely, Miss Polestar, you are a varrior for truth amidst a galaxy of ignorance." Hans' voice seemed to have a touch of sarcasm to it, and I glared at him from behind Miss Polestar's back, but she did not seem to notice in the slightest.
"Why thank you, Hans!" Miss Polestar said, stepping lightly back onto the sidewalk. "Now, let's get to shopping, shall we? I think I see a tailor over there…"
We proceeded to the street corner, waiting patiently as carriages rolled by. I wasn't going to have Miss Polestar get trampled under steel hooves in a rush to buy clothing. As we waited, we noticed a carriage doing the same, carrying two older women who were chatting like old friends. Or… perhaps more than friends, it looked like, less friends share discreet kisses when they think nobody is looking.
"Huh. Well, that's the city for you. To each their own, I suppose." Miss Polestar commented, cheeks pink as she looked conspicuously away. The traffic officer halted the flow of carriages and beckoned us across, and a few moments later we stood in front of the display window, staring at the example clothes perched on the mannequins.
"Do you think I would look good in that hat?" Miss Polestar waved toward a hat that made her current headwear look downright austere. Whilst I am no expert in regards to fashion, I thought I had enough of a grasp to make a conclusion in but a moment.
"I think it may be a little much, miss. You don't want to look too ostentatious. Still, I think we should check inside for more… reasonable fashions."
We headed inside, to a cozy little space overflowing with bolts of cloth and half-finished garments awaiting final measurements. The machines working there were only too happy to aid Miss Polestar, quickly ushering her into a measuring room accompanied by a caravan of potential dresses while Hans promptly began whistling and rolled outside.
"Marie, come on. I'm going to need your keen eye." she called over the mountain of fabric. Oh dear. I followed her inside, doing my best to maintain my composure and keep the blushlights in my cheek from becoming a supernova.
Inside, that last task became significantly more difficult, as I was faced with the wholly unfamiliar situation of watching Miss Polestar be undressed by hands which weren't my own. In truth, it was all I could do to simply stand there and offer reassuring noises when prompted while trying to stop my processor from overheating. Alas, my trial seemed without end as Miss Polestar insisted on extracting a verdict from me before discarding any of the garments presented to her. All of this while standing in her unmentionables without a care for proper decorum.
What follows is merely a sample of my replies to many of the rather… unique garments which she tried on, my agitation hidden behind increasingly scathing commentary:
"I'm not sure the colour is exactly a fit for your hair. Then again, I can't imagine many fashion designers practice their craft with complimenting blue hair in mind, miss."
"I suppose in some circles that may be considered modest, but they are not circles I think I can allow you into, lest I meet an untimely end at the hands of your mother."
"Hmm. It is nice, but very… gaudy. Is there something with less flashing lights? You rather resemble a Christmas tree at the moment, and at the very least tis not the season for such festivities."
"Well, the shifting colours does mean you don't have to make up your mind. However, I fear I'm already growing somewhat nauseous, so I can only imagine the effect on human beings."
As the discard pile grew and grew, I found myself increasingly distracted (or perhaps, I was distracting myself) with a long blue and white dress, fairly unadorned and with just a subtle pattern. Miss Polestar soon noticed my attention drifting, and addressed it.
"Oh, Marie, that wouldn't at all work with me, it does nothing for my curves. But... I wager it would look incredible on you!" she said.
"Oh, I couldn't, it's much above my station." I replied.
"Nonsense. Go, try it on! I think I found a dress I like anyway."
One of the tailors led me to another measuring room, where I was subjected to what felt like a whirling storm of colours and cloth. Quick cuts and pins adjust the clothing rapidly, taking shape in the mirror until I could barely recognise the person facing me in the mirror.
The tailor machine shrugged as she showed me the final result, looking a bit apologetic for indulging my miss' strange impulse. There was something utterly bizarre about seeing myself in these clothes, tailored for me as if I were a highborn noble, and not a simple ladies' maid. It was flattering, but also terribly embarrassing.
"Well, that's done. Let's get me back in normal clothes…"
"Marie!!! Let me see!"
Oh dear.
Barreling into the room with nary a regard for decorum, Miss Polestar's eyes grew wide as she took in my state of dress. I remember thinking that perhaps she thought me pretentious or even ridiculous in such obviously ill-fitting clothing, but...
"Stars! Marie, you look so beautiful! We absolutely must get it for you!" I blinked, and my surprise must have been obvious, for Miss Polestar laughed, and seemingly in anticipation of my objection, cut me off. "I shall hear no arguments! You look utterly gorgeous!"
I swear in that moment, my cheeks could have melted from my face; they shone so bright, and Miss Polestar leaned in, in what might have been considered a conspiratorial manner, though I found myself quite distracted by her lips. "But you must promise me not to wear it in public with me, the boys might never spare me a second glance."
"O-of course." I stammered, quite out of my depth.
"Still, it'd be a lovely thing to have when you find a date with some special gentleman! Oh… what do you think?"
She was wearing a positively lovely dress, grey and white, that did some exceedingly distracting things to her chest, in a way that I cannot say was not modest, yet was very much noticeable. Oh, I think I may be a disaster.
"Do you think he'll like it?"
"I can't imagine he wouldn't." I said.
---
We headed back, my new dress in one bag and Miss Polestar's two new outfits (she decided to get that Christmas lightshow dress anyway, for some reason), and then we had to get prepared for the date. The atmosphere of the city was controlled to be a warm, lovely springtime, which meant the outdoor dance they would be attending would be a lovely time.
Unfortunately, it was not the weather that ruined things. As I stood a fair distance away, conscious of the fact that music would soon begin and I would need to chaperon from outside the hall, Mister Parker Fullmore II opened his mouth and immediately sunk any chances of a pleasant evening for my miss.
---
Well… you can't be too quick to judge. You don't want a repeat of the last courtship, do you? People might talk. You need to give this guy a chance. You just need to keep your chin up, laugh at his jokes, and maybe you'll find somebody to love under there. Somewhere.
But he does not make it easy. Why?
[ ] Mister Fullmore II, seemingly because it amused him, manages to offend or otherwise annoy a large number of other dancers, leaving you to pick up the pieces of his social faux-pas. He has no concern for consequences.
[ ] He is simply much too forward. You barely know the man, yet he keeps attempting to take your hand, dances far too close for comfort, and stares without any decorum at all. Positive attention is one thing, but this is another.
[ ] He's just sort of mean. Like, not the funny mean that Marie can be sometimes when people are being silly, but actually cruel. Not to you, but to waitstaff, other attendees, and when talking about people in his life.
What strategy do you turn to in order to get through this wretched date?
[ ] You attempt to distract him with conversation, you hear he is currently studying Old Earth History. Perhaps you could attempt to engage with him on an intellectual level?
[ ] Make friends with another woman there, as fast as possible, and turn this into a double date. That ought to give you a little breathing room.
[ ] Oh, that wine is looking very inviting right now…
