The Last Robotica (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thefolksbetween) wrote2009-05-23 05:10 pm
thefolksbetween) wrote2009-05-23 05:10 pm
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Today was sadly special - George
He lay back in a tub, his eyes staring up at the mustard colored rich looking ceiling. He normally didn’t have the luxury of sitting and hiding in a tub like this. Not normally. This was special.
It was late at night, very late. The darkness had been swarming around outside and lock down had happened. The master was in, as was the family. This… this was a very special day for George it seemed.
Normally he wouldn’t have time to do this. To lay back and use up the resources meant for the others. The hot clean water that was stored and saved for darkness. Normally he wouldn’t take more then a shower when the master was home, incase he was needed swiftly.
But today was sadly special.
Today he was asked to take up the position of lead. The Head Butler of the house hold. He was only twenty two years of age and already he was in charge of over 70 members of staff. In charge of making sure the family was treated how they needed to me. Ordered to make sure his Lordship, the Master of the house got his things in order when his secretary wasn’t around. He worked close with the mans secretary as well, keeping schedules tight.
He had to carry a cell phone around, as most the staff had one or another. It was a big place, and it was easier to keep in contact, but the damn thing was constantly going off.
He was given his fathers room as well. He had always had a tiny room off his fathers room, a room of his own, but now he had his fathers room as well. It was vast, and had a bathroom of his own. He had to admit his father was taken well care of, and never really abused by the Master in any way. But one never abused a most trusted servant, right?
It was an HONOR to be given this title. It meant the master put a lot of faith into him, a lot of faith and trust. His father…
He’d of been proud, if he were alive.
Gregory had passed on just a week before. The house hold had been rather somber, even parts of the family really. The Master even seemed saddened by it, and granted the boy some time off. It was today that he called him in, asking that tomorrow he start getting the staff back in order and making things run right. That he had trust in him, and not to screw it up.
He had one more night to work everything out.
One more night to get the image of his fathers death out of his mind, the helplessness he felt when it happened, standing there unable to do anything to save him. He had one more night to get his act together and not crumble. He had responsibilities now, more so then before.
He had to watch the last act of a possible freedom drift away for good now. This was it.
He felt that sting in his eyes again, knowing he was about to cry, and not wanting to. Crying was for the weak and emotional and he had to be neither. He had to be stronger then anyone else here. He had to be the strong one, that was what his father always said. The butler and most trusted man servant of the house has to be the pillar that held it all together.
It was true too, as this past week the house had nearly fallen down in disarray. There was a small funeral service held for him, the masters family having stepped in to attend as well, and… and…
The thoughts were making his head hurt, his eyes sting. He moved a wet hand over his face, starting to cry, mouth opening a bit to let out a small sound, a squeaked out cry, only to close swiftly and sudden drop under the tub.
Bubbles formed around his nostrils, his eyes closed tight, the tears now becoming lost in the bath water, so now no one could tell he was crying. He couldn’t cry. He lay under the cooling lukewarm water and just drowned out his thoughts. Or tried to. When the swelling in his chest felt far too much to handle, he opened his mouth, underwater and let out a scream. A burning in the chest kind of feel as a huge bubble of air was released, water flooding his mouth. He screamed under water where no one could hear him, for it was so drowned out.
He screamed, till there was water coming into his nose and mouth and daring to drown him. Only for two seconds did he want it to do so, but only two seconds. His father would have scolded him for that.
George sat up, gasping for air, water dribbling, falling from an open mouth. He snorted out water, coughing, gasping for air, and soon pressing his hands over his face, heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. He let out another strangled sob, then another though it sounded more angry then the next.
It was true too, he was sad but also angry. How could he leave him to grow up like this? How could he do this? How…
He sobbed again, rubbing his face, sitting up in the tug and trying to get under control. The night wouldn’t go well, he could tell, but he would permit himself one more night of weakness.
Tomorrow was a new day.
That new day came and he was dressed in his finest. A dark charcoal black suit, a dark gray pin striped vest over a clean crisp white pressed shirt and a maroon tie. The tie was the color of those in charge of the staff. And he was indeed permitted to wear it now. Standing in a mirror he adjusted it, making himself presentable, perfect and proper.
Stepping out, at 4 in the morning, he had already slipped into the role of his father, checking the list of people, making sure duties were listed properly and getting breakfast going (or at least making sure it was going). When the master of the house arrived at the morning breakfast hall, seated and waiting, George was there, void of emotion and holding a tray for him.
“Good morning, sir. You’re paper.” He said, offering the morning paper on the tray. The New York Times as well as the local business journal. “Will you be having coffee or tea this morning.” He knew the routine by heart. His father had trained him well.
“Coffee, Gregory. Thank you.” Came the mans voice, steady and calm, taking the paper with out thought, opening it and looking up the stocks.
The fact that his father name was said had made him stiffen, but he bowed and took off, steeling his heart and mind over this. He had a job to perform, and he didn’t need to mar his fathers name by messing it up.
It was late at night, very late. The darkness had been swarming around outside and lock down had happened. The master was in, as was the family. This… this was a very special day for George it seemed.
Normally he wouldn’t have time to do this. To lay back and use up the resources meant for the others. The hot clean water that was stored and saved for darkness. Normally he wouldn’t take more then a shower when the master was home, incase he was needed swiftly.
But today was sadly special.
Today he was asked to take up the position of lead. The Head Butler of the house hold. He was only twenty two years of age and already he was in charge of over 70 members of staff. In charge of making sure the family was treated how they needed to me. Ordered to make sure his Lordship, the Master of the house got his things in order when his secretary wasn’t around. He worked close with the mans secretary as well, keeping schedules tight.
He had to carry a cell phone around, as most the staff had one or another. It was a big place, and it was easier to keep in contact, but the damn thing was constantly going off.
He was given his fathers room as well. He had always had a tiny room off his fathers room, a room of his own, but now he had his fathers room as well. It was vast, and had a bathroom of his own. He had to admit his father was taken well care of, and never really abused by the Master in any way. But one never abused a most trusted servant, right?
It was an HONOR to be given this title. It meant the master put a lot of faith into him, a lot of faith and trust. His father…
He’d of been proud, if he were alive.
Gregory had passed on just a week before. The house hold had been rather somber, even parts of the family really. The Master even seemed saddened by it, and granted the boy some time off. It was today that he called him in, asking that tomorrow he start getting the staff back in order and making things run right. That he had trust in him, and not to screw it up.
He had one more night to work everything out.
One more night to get the image of his fathers death out of his mind, the helplessness he felt when it happened, standing there unable to do anything to save him. He had one more night to get his act together and not crumble. He had responsibilities now, more so then before.
He had to watch the last act of a possible freedom drift away for good now. This was it.
He felt that sting in his eyes again, knowing he was about to cry, and not wanting to. Crying was for the weak and emotional and he had to be neither. He had to be stronger then anyone else here. He had to be the strong one, that was what his father always said. The butler and most trusted man servant of the house has to be the pillar that held it all together.
It was true too, as this past week the house had nearly fallen down in disarray. There was a small funeral service held for him, the masters family having stepped in to attend as well, and… and…
The thoughts were making his head hurt, his eyes sting. He moved a wet hand over his face, starting to cry, mouth opening a bit to let out a small sound, a squeaked out cry, only to close swiftly and sudden drop under the tub.
Bubbles formed around his nostrils, his eyes closed tight, the tears now becoming lost in the bath water, so now no one could tell he was crying. He couldn’t cry. He lay under the cooling lukewarm water and just drowned out his thoughts. Or tried to. When the swelling in his chest felt far too much to handle, he opened his mouth, underwater and let out a scream. A burning in the chest kind of feel as a huge bubble of air was released, water flooding his mouth. He screamed under water where no one could hear him, for it was so drowned out.
He screamed, till there was water coming into his nose and mouth and daring to drown him. Only for two seconds did he want it to do so, but only two seconds. His father would have scolded him for that.
George sat up, gasping for air, water dribbling, falling from an open mouth. He snorted out water, coughing, gasping for air, and soon pressing his hands over his face, heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. He let out another strangled sob, then another though it sounded more angry then the next.
It was true too, he was sad but also angry. How could he leave him to grow up like this? How could he do this? How…
He sobbed again, rubbing his face, sitting up in the tug and trying to get under control. The night wouldn’t go well, he could tell, but he would permit himself one more night of weakness.
Tomorrow was a new day.
That new day came and he was dressed in his finest. A dark charcoal black suit, a dark gray pin striped vest over a clean crisp white pressed shirt and a maroon tie. The tie was the color of those in charge of the staff. And he was indeed permitted to wear it now. Standing in a mirror he adjusted it, making himself presentable, perfect and proper.
Stepping out, at 4 in the morning, he had already slipped into the role of his father, checking the list of people, making sure duties were listed properly and getting breakfast going (or at least making sure it was going). When the master of the house arrived at the morning breakfast hall, seated and waiting, George was there, void of emotion and holding a tray for him.
“Good morning, sir. You’re paper.” He said, offering the morning paper on the tray. The New York Times as well as the local business journal. “Will you be having coffee or tea this morning.” He knew the routine by heart. His father had trained him well.
“Coffee, Gregory. Thank you.” Came the mans voice, steady and calm, taking the paper with out thought, opening it and looking up the stocks.
The fact that his father name was said had made him stiffen, but he bowed and took off, steeling his heart and mind over this. He had a job to perform, and he didn’t need to mar his fathers name by messing it up.