Exposure
This is chapter 76 of The Matriarchy, a serial fiction novel on FITK
Mary was going through the adoption material which she had received from her stepmother when she got an email notification on her laptop. It was Hilmar, in Iceland, who was the head of the new/old religion and was also the publisher of Emily’s spells in app form.
Spells in song
Hæ Mary,
Here is a link to a song that has been going viral. It has one of the spells from your book embedded in the chorus. Should we be allowing this? I can see it backfiring on us. Will you Skype me tomorrow at 2200 GMT?
Hilmar.
Mary replied:
Re: Spells in song
Not much we can do, if we try to control the spells, we'd just come off as another power-hungry religion. If anyone asks about it, just say that it is an ancient text. Which is true. I'll Skype you then.
Mary
Sean came in just as Mary hit ‘reply.’
“What went down with the lawyers today?” said Mary.
“The Regelind real estate will be fairly easy to deal with, a broker can handle all the details of the property. Emily’s paintings should be here Friday, we can store them in Emily’s old apartment—I guess that’s only fitting. There are other artworks and documents coming as well. You might find them of special interest.”
“I might, especially if there are some of her spirit drawings,” said Mary, “Do you have any ideas about what you might want to do with the canvases?”
“I do. We’ll have to have a look at them first, of course, but if they are as good as I think they are, and we can place them in context with her contemporaries, and get a major gallery on board, I think that Emily will finally be able to get the recognition she deserves,” Sean said, “And… it will give me something to think about other than myself.”
“Still having ambivalent feelings toward your inheritance?” asked Mary, “After all you been put through I would think that any Karmic debt you may have had in the past has been repaid.”
“I shouldn’t let it bother me, I know,” said Sean.
“Well, fate has dealt you a strange hand, but look at it this way: outside of the nasty fact that you were nearly killed, your dealings with the Senator and Billy in Iceland gave you a son and brought you closer to me. And in the end, of course, it’s all about me, innit?” Mary laughed. “The whole affair with The Brotherhood brought Emily back and even helped your Aunt Tina find love and now you have a daughter on the way and you’re married! To me!” Mary was laughing now, “Don’t let the money turn you inside out. It will probably be a while until you can collect anything anyway.”
“At least a year, if everything goes alright.” said Sean. “You know lawyers.”
“That will give you plenty of time to deal with Emily’s art. I think that having a retrospective of her work is a great idea. I’ve looked at some of the art books that she bought. She put post-its throughout all of them, noting those people she knew when she lived in New York in the 20s and 30s. If you get the right experts behind this, people who can connect her to the Modernist movement, it could explode. If there is more Matriarchy material in with her art that’s even better. Hilmar emailed me just before you came in—one of Emily’s spells has been put in a pop song which has gone viral. Emily’s efforts in preserving the old spells will have just as big an effect in the new/old religion as her canvases will in art.” Mary paused, then said: “Everything will be alright.”
At the office of techcreeper.com, there was a rare editorial meeting going on. Denny Orlean, CEO and founder, was speaking to a group of a half-dozen reporters:
“As you are all aware, I abhor face-to-face meetings, they’re a waste of time and usually degrade into petty sniping and backstabbing—in other words, my standard operating procedure. Everything is so much nicer when I don’t have to stand up in front of you all, smelling the fear you exude. But the Carroll-Robinson story is so big, with so many players and so many angles, that I think we’ve got to hash out some ground rules. I want some real, meat-world interaction on this before we begin. Am I making myself clear?”
Murmurs of assent swept the conference table.
“Good. Now Elly and Dick have been working on this since the ‘Billygate’ affair broke three years ago. They did the story on them that we ran last spring. You’ve each got a folder with the outline of the story, and each of you has a list of leads for your specific angle. The story was effectively killed in the run-up to the election. It has had a few flare-ups since then, as well as some private investigations, but nothing that has captured the imagination of the general public. I want each of you to spend at least a couple of hours a day, in addition to your regular assignments, pursuing this story until we’ve got enough material to create a multi-part exposé and a book and a film deal. We’re going ride this gravy train to the top. Pulitzer level. Any questions?”
Back at the apartment, Mary’s phone began to chime.
“It’s Jo,” Mary said to Sean before she answered, “Hi, Jo. What’s up?”
“Mary, can you come over?” said Jo, “I need to talk to you.”
Fiction
