48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 17: Julie

While I realize he's referring to Hong Kong, I have already picked up from somewhere that Manilla (and the rest of the Philippines) and the island nation of Sri Lanka also consider themselves Pearls of the Orient.

I adopt a sympathetic tone and ask how "his house" is doing. I am looking for any fiscal problems, but he begins moaning about all sorts of physical problems. The offices are all cramped, the computers are from medieval times, the upholstery in the auditorium hasn't been changed since he doesn't know when, the box office staff is probably selling tickets on the side, and, of course, the roof leaks. Not a word about the stage, the orchestra pit, or dressing or rehearsal rooms for the performers.

I murmur appreciatively and ask about these other items. He shifts position, gives me a sharp look, and says something about "they're always complaining about everything anyway."

Butterfly manages to ask about the coming season and I get a different perspective on this Opera Boss.

"Oh, this season is all buttoned up. Next season is almost all set, just a few contracts to haggle over. I've got a real sharp kid who knows a bunch of agents and he manages to line up the top talent for our productions. Still, it's sort of crazy to try to set a contract for who's to sing on a certain afternoon or evening three years ahead. Who knows if they'll get hit by a bus or go down in a plane crash before then? Still, it's what my Mistress wants, so that's what I give her."

Butterfly and I seem to have made a good impression, because we have no trouble getting the Opera Boss to recount tale after tale of woe from "his house." Along the way, he lets drop that, at least, he doesn't have to actually be at any performance, so he doesn't have to "dress up" except for the Gala each year. Since his Mistress likes to be Mistress of Ceremonies for that evening, he doesn't even have to say anything all night.

Something reminds me that I have a schedule to keep, and so I rise and thank this Opera Boss Slave for his very comprehensive presentation, perhaps a bit too effusively. Butterfly ushers him out and I check the schedule, finding I haven't even used all the time allotted to this institution.

The remaining institutions are all small and the times shown are short. The pattern is looking complete, but I want to check with Empress' body slave for any further insight.

She returns, simulating fanning herself as if from an overheated environment, and grinning. I grin back and ask, "Butterfly, we didn't use all the time we had on the schedule, and no other institution has so much time allotted, and your Mistress really likes opera, and that guy really doesn't seem like he likes opera. I'm beginning to sense a pattern here. Empress really wants me to take on this Opera, doesn't she?"

Butterfly falls into the kneeling Position One and looks at me with clearly innocent eyes. "Please, Ma'am, this slave couldn't presume to speak for my Mistress."

"OK, let me rephrase that question. From as much as you've learned about your Mistress and the twerp who was just here, do you think your Mistress might not mind seeing someone else in the opera job?"

Now, Butterfly's eyes light up and he mouth moves into a grin. "Now, this slave is just about certain about that! Mistress never explained 'twerp' to me, but I've figured out it's not a good word."

"Right on, Butterfly! Now, if you'll just call the others on this schedule and let them know we won't need to visit with them, I'll get ready to try to talk your Mistress into letting me try the Opera job."

Butterfly nods and clicks on a bunch of icons at the workstation, typing a sentence or two for each one. In moments, the schedule goes blank. I get the idea that those other institutions are probably not worried — or surprised — about the cancellation. Butterfly suggests that we "give them back the office" and offers to show me the Empress' gardens. Each of the previous slave reports had mentioned a trip to these gardens, and I'm interested to see what might be special there, so Butterfly takes my hand again and we go off to explore.

The garden is delightful. Trees and shrubs mark off patches of lawn, bunches of flowers, and masses of herbs. Butterfly has Chinese names for most of the flowers and an occasional herb. I recognize just one flower, the spikes and trumpets of foxglove, the plant from which digitalis is extracted. One of the partners took this medicine and he had it growing at home, with some color photos in his office. Each trumpet is deeply colored, and a mass of spikes makes quite an impact.

I'm not sure whether asking Butterfly how she came to be in the Empress' service is proper slave conversation, but her mention of being purchased from "the slaver" could be an open door, right?

Right. Butterfly re-arranges herself on a carved wooden bench and tells me she was a young child in a small town in one of the Former Soviet Republics when her parents sold her to a slave caravan that made regular stops in their town. It was a commonplace event, she assures me, because every family in town was poor and besieged with extra mouths to feed. The caravan took her to some bigger cities where she was sold to one family or another, usually for about a year at a time. One family was in international trade, and they taught her English so she could answer the telephone for them. Whenever the slave caravan came through, she was usually sold back to them with her new skills bringing the family some profit. The slavers were generally harsh but not brutal, and she seemed proud that she had learned enough tricks to deflect most of the punishments that were routine. She was particularly proud that she had never had to suffer the bastinado. Igor had told me about that particular rite, and I knew enough to congratulate Butterfly on her skills.

"Well," she muses, "some of it may have been skill, but I'm sure most of it was just good luck!"

The Empress sweeps across the greensward and Butterfly and I slip easily into the kneeling Position One. Empress takes possession of the bench with a small wave of her hand and smiles at us. "All right, then. I see you have made your decision, Julie. What are your Plans?"

Plans? I haven't asked her about the Opera, and haven't gotten my Master's approval, and haven't had a look at the place or the books, and she wants Plans? And I can hear the Capital P in her question.

Butterfly comes to my rescue.

"Please, Mistress, Julie and I were just turning over some early ideas. The Opera Boss Slave told us that this season was, as he said, 'buttoned up,' and next season was in hand by one of his boys, and pledges from the recent Gala took care of the budget. We're not familiar enough with the institution's long range plan so that we can move on it."

This girl picked up more than just English working for all those families across Asia! I just manage to notice that Empress hadn't asked what institution I wanted and Butterfly's referred to the Opera Boss Slave, as if Empress already knew what I was going to discuss. Again, I suspect that this woman is way ahead of my Master and me. Her next statements prove it.

"Well, of course, my dear. When all those e-mails cancelled the appointments after the Opera, I called your Master and confirmed your selection with him. Of course, he's delighted you chose such a prominent cultural institution for his attentions. And the Mistress who has been 'holding the fort,' so to say, is pleased that she can return to the equestrian world she prefers.

"Your Master is arranging a dinner for Friday evening so there can be a formal transition. I think you should spend tomorrow at the Opera offices to get familiar with the permanent staff, especially the 'boy' who seems to be doing the contracts for next season. Then, a day or so with your Master to develop his Plans and introduce them to all the players. That should make for some fine conversation Friday evening. Do you have any questions?"

Questions? She's just bypassed the multi-stage presentation I was trying to put together. I'm feeling like the old saying "Up the estuary without visible means of propulsion," although I learned it using less elevated terms. Fortunately, my Inner Goddess reminds me of the phrase Pat has taught me that slaves can always use.

"Please, my Empress, it shall be as you desire."

I'm not fooling anyone. Butterfly barely manages to suppress a giggle and Empress nods, waves, and says, "Yes, of course, my dear."

She turns to Butterfly and issues orders, among which I recognize getting me to someone called Jason to get started on the Administrative Academy course. I am more pleased to learn that I'm to have dinner tonight with the current crop of Academy students. You know the rule about a slave gets told what she needs to know when she needs to know it? I'm hoping that dinner will be that time for me!

* The Imperial Cane and Strap Company, Ltd., of North Yorks, England is a real enterprise, whose products are known, and respected, throughout the world. Its website is easily located and well worth your perusal.

End Note: Julie seems well on her way to an official imprimatur, right? Well, let's see how she does in her next few "tests." Your authors hope to have them ready in just a week or so.

J Spe