'I'VE FOLDED THESE napkins four several ways, sir,' the waitress said in Tolerance Smillen's Eatery on Gentle Row. The customer spoken to looked up from the menu card and smiled.
'Thank you. You've done an excellent job.' He placed his pointed hat on the cushioned seat next to him as if tempting a hilarious accident all Tinkers found amusing in their strangely childlike way and then concentrated his gaze on the list again.
'I heard,' he began.
'Yes?' and the waitress leaned forward.
'The Danger Dolls sometimes like to eat here.'
The waitress straightened and glanced nervously at the counter where the manager, Tolerance Smillen, was busy scrubbing at a stubborn piece of melted cheese which tainted the worktop.
'Let me fix those napkins for you,' the girl said, endeavouring to look busy. Then she lowered her voice. 'Feepal Mindover, she works the later shift from mine, told me she once saw them, all of them, bustling in and ordering all sorts of stuff,' and she nodded knowingly.
'What were they like?'
'Like you,' and the waitress sniffed.
'Like me?'
'Old.'
'I see.'
Here was a perfect example of how rumours frittered away in Poldorama. The Danger Dolls were a once popular team of dare-mongers, challenging each other to various tricks and feats such as canal leaping and roof hopping. Their adventures were broadcast in a series of on-grid shows and then suddenly they stopped, disappeared. This abrupt ending spawned a whole series of legends about what happened to them, why the sudden cessation of dares and of course where they were.
What thrilled the people of Poldorama at the time was they were all local girls. It seemed some cathartic rebellion against the quiet and sensible lifestyle of the land and although authority disapproved, there were many secret admirers who lived vicariously through the Danger Doll ethos. On-grid re-runs helped a lot too.
Tinker Blomp ordered a meal and chewed upon thoughts of such characters coming into being amid such resistance. To wear bright colours was rebellious enough here on the edge of the Blessed Hub, the most conservative part of Poldorama.
Gentle Row was one of a thousand quiet streets that linked canals and roadways across the land, yet the Tinker felt there was some significance in the place as if the forces of doom seemed to watch over it, and salivate.
Thus he was able to observe the very actions of doom from where he sat.
An overburdened lady tottered along by a canal's edge and Tinker Blomp tensed up for disaster was writ large in the air around this struggling figure. She was not alone in the street as others passed this way and that.
A great bag of buns was clutched awkwardly and the pressure on one edge inevitably led to a tear. Out tumbled the round things in no danger of coming to harm, yet in danger of being lost or overlooked.
A girl wandered along the pathway with her father. He was a big, jovial man, sauntering with a pride in existence as if prosperity had been laid on just for him. The girl, with soft blonde curls, looked up to him with heroic pride, until she saw the bakery mishap.
Instantly she left the man's side and scampered to where the lady stood, turning this way and that, puzzled by the unexpected relief from her load of groceries. The girl pounced with a childish glee on the errant buns as they rolled, snatching them up and making a little pyramid where the lady stood. By her gestures she was praising the child for a disaster seemed averted by this prompt and kind action.
Then the girl noted she had retrieved six buns but a seventh was well on its way to freedom as it rolled down the street. Its pace had ensured a straight route but momentum was leaving it and the thing began to stagger and sway. Thus its path curved a little and it turned to the edge of the canal on the point of plunging in to be truly lost in a reversion to moist dough.
The girl was heartstricken and raced as fast as her legs could carry her. The man sought his child, suddenly realising she was not at his side and took in the scene with a deep-voiced shout of surprise. The girl was too late. The bun leapt to its doom without hesitation and disappeared. The girl seemed of a like mind and was about to leap after it on a foolhardy errand but the man, fast for his size, caught the belt of her frock and prevented the rescue.
He lifted the girl up, and even at a distance and through thick glass, Blomp could hear that booming laugh as the man carried his precious cargo back to where a pyramid of buns sat and a perplexed lady stood. He placed the girl upon the ground, raised his hat to the lady and from a deep pocket produced a replacement bag. With tender care he put all the remaining buns within, sealed the bag and returned them to the lady, who, mouthing thanks moved on. The girl seemed perplexed in her own way for as the man clutched her hand so they could resume their walk, she often looked over her shoulder at where the bun had disappeared into the canal. It was as if her failure weighed heavily upon her.
'I'll be blessed,' Tinker Blomp said, finishing his meal and leaving a tip which should allow the waitress to invest in gilt stocks and a comfortable future of ease and plenty.
He departed the eatery and followed the man and girl into a maze of speculation that had him counting his fingers, making faces and eventually coming to a simple conclusion.
Doom truly simply did not stand a chance.
Not with faith in the mix.
Not with hope thrown in for good measure.
And not with a purity of soul so bright it blinded.
