Entry 850SH17-4. An interview with an Ardoran merchant on the subject of clothing collected in Port Town. Keywords. Adoran. Adori. Clothing and costume. Interview. Material culture. Merchants and trade. Port Taroth. Note. Growing up in Emorain, I naturally found myself often in the company of Ardori. But this Ardoran caught my eye, both because of his personal presentation and the nature of his wear.
He was a clothier, his stall heaped high with garments of the kind preferred by locals in Port Tarot. Moreover, he himself was dressed impeccably. In an outfit of such ornamentation and extravagance, he resembled nothing so much as a finely made patisserie from one of the baker's stalls. It was such a surprise, I felt I must speak to this person before my chance was gone. His name was Henri, and when he heard I had come from Emerain, he understood very well my confusion and interest.
I never used to understand other species' obsession with clothing. I suppose with different anatomies it made sense to wear something. Not everyone can control their temperature the way we can, I know. But I never understood why clothing was so important. Besides, surely it would get in the way, I thought. Our skin displays how we feel, which is very helpful given that we lack many of the features other species use for expression.
You see your sister's skin temperature change, adding in darker swirls, and you know she's worried about something. Hmm? Oh, wouldn't we need eyes to see that? No, no, I say see for ease of communication. Our sensory perception is really quite different. But that does touch upon why I didn't understand clothes. I couldn't see it. I could see other people were wearing something, blocking their heat signatures slightly, but that was it. Then I was assigned to a diplomatic mission with...
Well, with humans, actually. and I decided I should try and learn so I could wear the right thing. And my goodness, the rules you people have about such things. I wasn't ready for all those rules. Take colors, for example. I didn't even know I was what you perceive as purple until I asked for help picking out an outfit and apparently had chosen something that clashed horribly with the rest of me.
And that's to say nothing of the different significance you all read into this type of garment versus that, or how varied these readings are across different cultures. One group of people say this colour may only be worn by those of the priestly card. And then another group say, this colour? Oh no, this colour is only worn immediately after giving birth. It is the type of hat which marks out priests from the laity. As if it were obvious.
I must admit I still don't understand how colours really work. But over time, I have become quite enraptured by the idea of clothing itself. So many of you are having these long, silent conversations with the world just by wearing this jacket or that hat. And I wanted to join the conversation. And it made me realise we have clothing too. No, we don't wear gowns and veils and caps and shoes and trousers and everything else. Or most of us don't, anyway.
But we do adorn ourselves, taking new scents and temperature patterns to suit our needs and desires. And these variations have different connotations. I wouldn't pick a strong, vibrant smell for a funeral, for example. And having my heat swirled the way it is now would be absolutely the wrong pattern for a birthday party. It's so similar to what you people do with your clothing, but still so very different.
And it's simply more beautiful for that difference. It makes me wish I could see all the parts of your culture that are invisible to me, and that you could see the parts of mine invisible to you. that we could share this in some way. 17th Shadok 8.50 continues. Once the equipment and luggage was all loaded, Annalisa invited me to help her set up her laboratory.
It was not that she needed any particular assistance, but I think she could tell I was feeling a little untethered and might enjoy some company. I appreciated the gesture. It was a good opportunity, too, to see a bit more of the Tola. I had assumed life aboard a ship would be cramped and closed. But while the taller is not particularly large, she is clearly not concerned with treating the space she has with any sort of economy.
The walls are high and curved, giving a sense of vaulted ceilings even in the corridor. Brightly coloured tiles mosaic the floors, and there is a great deal of decoration on, well, everything. A cynical interpretation is that this is nothing but money spent for the sake of being seen to spend money. After all, the shelves are not more sturdy for being intricately carved. or the door handles more effective for being shaped like little suns and moons.
But they are beautiful. And I cannot fault anyone for preferring their surroundings to be beautiful. The ship's decks are arranged in basically three stacks. The first, at the back of the ship, starts down at the bottom with storage in the engine rooms, then rises to the cabins and living quarters, and then the communications deck and crew lounge at the very top.
The laboratories are in the middle stack, along with private studies for those scholars who do not wish to work in their cabins. And then comes the observation deck and the flight deck, right in the ship's nose. Anyway, Annalisa led the way to her assigned laboratory, a wide white room with rows of wooden shelves along the walls and a few large, adjustable-height wooden work surfaces in the centre.
Annalisa is a botanist, and she told me about her research as we unpacked boxes of slides, heat lamps, soil analysis equipment, card catalogues, and yes, plenty of plants. Before long, the room was transformed from bright, lifeless sterility into a veritable forest of trailing vines, frothing ferns and glossy green leaves. Do you want to know a secret? said Annalisa with a conspiratorial grin. I'm not even studying half of these. I just like having them around.
I laughed, brushing my finger over the stem of a raucous little plant covered in clusters of shockingly bright pink flowers. The bell-shaped blossoms danced and bounced. and I could almost hear the peal of tiny bells. I like them too, I said. They can keep you company while you work. I was beginning to think that was your job.
Then there really was a ringing sound, a smooth, melodic jingling over the tannoy. It was followed by Aman's voice, asking all hands to please report to the crew lounge for a safety briefing. I cannot pretend I gave the briefing my full attention. It was very long, and Operator Aman's voice is deep and rich and... really rather soporific. It did not help that Hestia kept interrupting, piping up with additional, unnecessary details, often incorrectly, as it happened.
and confusing the matter so much that I think we went over the procedure for emergency disembarkation three times or more, and I am still none the wiser. I did learn that apparently the first leg of our journey is to be very short, just a hop, skip and a jump to a dern to pick up some final supplies at the trade market. I do have a full itinerary showing all the planned stops before Keren, but it is in the bottom of a bag somewhere. Nothing.
There were two people at the briefing who I had not seen before. One wore academic robes and was presumably Dr. Deuteron, having finally arrived some hours after we were supposed to board. She seemed a very calm, confident sort of person, sitting back in her seat with a look of quiet satisfaction and apparently listening to the briefing with interest. Perhaps she is just very good at managing her facial expression.
The other newcomer was in a uniform not unlike Operator Amman's, though his was all one garment and covered in bulging pockets. He wore a tool belt, more a harness, really, the straps hugging his shoulders, and he clinked faintly as he fidgeted. He made no effort to look as if he was listening, and instead stared quite happily up at the light fixture, lost in more entertaining thought.
Apart from the safety information, we were also given a rundown of some basic housekeeping. I was pleased to hear that evening meals will be communal affairs served in the refectory, not the galley as it would be on any other ship. I suppose collegiate habits die hard. Regardless, I was glad to hear there would be time set aside each day for that moment of connection. We will be living together for the next three months or so.
And I hope we can build some sense of community with one another in that time. Otherwise, we will be left to our own devices, though with full access to the ship's supply. I intend to hunt myself down, something sustaining as soon as I am done here. My breakfast with Eslore seems very long ago indeed. I had hoped to get this letter finished in time to pop out to the local relay station and get it sent on to Emorane before we departed, but I clearly had more to say than I thought.
No matter. It will just take a little longer to reach you, is all. In my defence, it has been a very busy few days. I have plenty for the archive too. As well as the account of my sightseeing trip, I am attaching a song I learnt from some dock workers in the port and an interview with a merchant I met yesterday. If every place I visit is as interesting as Port Taroth, the archive will soon be full up.
I have just heard the most tremendous racket, a great banging, clanking noise from deep down below me, shuddering up through the ship. I think it was the Tola detaching from the port. I think we're off. I've just checked out of the window of my cabin and yes, we're pulling away. This is it. I... I'm... I'm leaving. I'm leaving the planet. Oh, I need to sit down. I'm already sitting down. I need to sit more down.
Send my love to everyone at home and know that I am carrying you all in my heart. I will write again from, oh, from somewhere else. Travelling Light was created by H.R. Owen and Matt McDyer and is a Monstrous Productions podcast. This episode was written and performed by H.R. Owen. This week's entry to the archives was based on a submission by The Menagerie, with accompanying art available on our social media accounts.
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