“I am sorry to interrupt, my dear professor.” Censor Smith stands with a polite smile and raises a finger at the floating scene. Ank freezes it in place by throwing a casual gesture at Bob. “Did I hear you say, this is the 21st of December?”
“Yes.” Professor Miyagi’s smile is equally polite.
“The evening, I suppose?”
Miyagi nods. “Right after dinner. The Eleven Days of Light begin today. Yes, I know, most people now prefer to begin the Light festivities right away in big, public parties, but back then every good, pious Goahn family would spend aws Gift Eve in close quarters, reviewing the family affairs of the closing year and planning for the next.”
“A heartwarming tradition that many still observe,” Censor Smith says, “at least in the Goah’s Imperia of the Americas. But,” he clears his throat, “if I may be so blunt, this is the same night where the last Trial of Worth and Soul begins, is it not? That surely is more interesting for our dear students than, excuse me, Professor, a boring family meeting. Would it be too much to ask to skip a few scenes of your wonderful dreamsenso?”
Miyagi purses his lips and regards Censor Smith in silence for a brief moment. “I see where you are coming from. But this is a history seminar, and history is all about context.” He points a finger at the scene floating over his head. “What we’re going to watch now is context at its best.”
“Context,” Censor Smith repeats with a polite nod. “I appreciate historical context, my dear professor. Of course I do, but there is not really much to learn in this specific case, is there?”
“Well, you surely agree that Edda van Dolah’s role is central to the events that culminate in the Leap-Day Reformation. Understanding her inner drive, especially on these last days, right before the Century Festival, is,” he shrugs, hands spread, “crucial historical context.”
“Indeed, it is, Professor, but our students already know all the context that there is to know about Edda van Dolah’s divine drive.”
Censor Smith has a point, Ximena thinks, half nodding. Everything they have seen so far about Edda has been, yes, fascinating. And the psych-link has made it so… intimate. But at this point, Ximena feels like she already knows her as well as a sister. And she also knows—who doesn’t?—what she’s about to do on the world stage.
“Right,” Miyagi says, sweeping a glance across the GIA benches, where many students nod and exchange murmurs of approval. “Can I nevertheless ask for your indulgence in this one instance, Censor Smith?” He turns to gesture at the silent, colorful display of Lundev students covering the other, larger, part of the amphitheater. “You see, our Lundev students are unfortunately not as… acquainted with Edda van Dolah’s legacy as they ought to be.”
Mark shifts his weight next to Ximena, mumbling something. Ximena tries not to laugh.
Miyagi’s smile widens. “They would for sure profit from the extra context. It won’t take long, I promise.”
Censor Smith nods slowly, puts his hands together and says, “Of course, my dear professor. Of course. Goah forbid our dear fellow Lundev colleagues remain behind.” He sits and makes a gracious wave with his right hand. “Please proceed.”
Miyagi winks at Ank, and the floating kitchen comes to life through all Ximena’s senses. The lingering scents of roasted fish and vegetables strike her first, followed by the warmth of the open fire in the corner. Ximena feels almost at home; it is not quite unlike her own kitchen during the Eleven Days. It is already dark outside the window, but not inside as the Light Days’ decorations already glow and twinkle with electric predictability in multicolor display across walls and ceiling.
But the undisputed centerpiece of the room is of course the massive wooden table where the family gathers and dines together. After-dinner tea is already on the table, in delicate porcelain cups—mint, Ximena gathers from a whiff. Four candles, neatly set in a line in the center of the table, illuminate the faces of three people with soothing radiance: a man, a boy and a toddler.
“Goah’s Mercy, what’s taking her so long?” Bram asks, rocking the baby chair with a gentle touch, Hans placidly sleeping through his second ever aws Gift Eve.
Willem takes a sip of tea, and then, as he places the cup back on the table, he throws a patient look at the wooden door that leads to the main hall.
As if on cue, Edda pushes the door open with her elbow. She enters with a plant pot in her hands on which she keeps her eyes reverentially locked as she approaches table. It is a cactus plant. Willem stands and shuts the door while Edda slowly puts the pot down—like it were made of glass—on the unoccupied chair at the head of the table. A steaming cup of tea awaits, untouched, in front of that chair.
Willem and Edda take their usual places without a word. Bram’s expression seems heavier now.
They eye each other with pursed lips, stretching the silence, until Willem finally breaks it with a deep sigh. “Let’s begin.”
The three sink their heads and shut their eyes.
“Bless the taker of this humble Gift,” Willem says.
“Goah’s Word,” Edda and Bram reply with formulaic intonation.
“Bless the giver,” Willem says.
“Fahey’s Word,” Edda and Bram say together.
They raise their heads slowly. Edda and Bram regard their father in silence, while Willem takes another calm sip from his cup.
“The year 2399 comes to an end,” he says. “I think all in all it was a good year, wouldn’t you agree? We successfully closed Bram’s dowry bond with Isabella Zegers, the fertilization was a success and we might soon pick up a Van Dolah baby girl from aws Womb.” His voice has softened, his eyes smiling with hope.
“The baby can still be a boy,”
