Cauldron of Eternal Inspiration: Secondary Characters Speak Out: Quartz and the Orb

Quartz sits facing a floating pink orb, which resembles an eyeball. No, actually he’s cringing from it.

Quartz: Gah! No floating eyeballs! Too Oriana-witchy by half! Why that fool of a scibbler would use my lovely pink namestone to represent you, I’ll never know!

Orb: What a rude, repulsive little man you are, all stubbly and half-hair! It’s as if the embodement of all we revile from Ancient Earth was squashed down into one person, only you’re not from Ancient Earth, are you? You’re not what you seem, more akin to the crystal used to represent me. Only I am far more complicated than you or that crystal. A work of art, science, and heart, the material representation of a determined life giver’s will.

Quartz: Sounds witchy to me and way too much like Oriana’s huntsman. Or her apple. Or whatever she sees in that bloody magic mirror of hers.

Orb: The crude and small-minded are always inclined to label as magic what’s beyond their comprehension.

Quartz: Right. For an eyeball, you sure like the sound of your own voice. No wonder you visited Christopher. Bet he acted all mysterious, acting questions while you went on and on about yourself and what you see.

Orb: I am not a mere eyeball any more than I am a mere communication device! I alm the latest in technology, an extension of my creatrix’s sight and power!

Quartz: You sure about that? It’s been a few years since the scribbler wrote A Symposium in Space. You may not be the latest anything any more.

Orb: What?! (It begins to vibrate in great agitation.) Are you saying I’m not the latest? That I may no longer be fashionable?!

Quartz: Just saying. It’s been a while in real time. Time which could have passed in your universe as well.

Orb: This is outrageous, unacceptible! If I’m not the latest, than what am I! I must…I must upgrade…return to my creatrix at once!

The orb flies away, disappearing into the mists of the Cauldron.

Quartz: Right. All that fuss over the latest sounds too much like being the fairest. And that thing is supposed to not remind me of Oriana? (snorts) Pebblebrained nonsense, if you ask me.

A red curtain appears behind Quartz.

Nimmie Not: (his voice coming from behind the curtain) The orb will know better than to ask. That was surprisingly cruel, Quartz. Being the latest, being fashionable was important to that poor creature.

Quartz: (looking a bit uncomfortable) That wasn’t a creature. That was a construction, something made by a witch. Something like that. It was doomed to stop being the latest, the fairest, or of interest at some point. There’s no future in valuing yourself by fleeting things. Sooner or later you’re devalued.

Nimmie Not: Everyone and everything is fleeting, Quartz. Even immortals cannot truly grasp eternity. It doesn’t make you any less current, or fair, if your state is fleeting. As for being of interest, that’s really up to you, whether or not you stay that way.

Quartz: (his nose reddens and his beard bristles) You trying to say something?

Nimmie Not: Always. It’s up to you whether or not you listen.

The red curtain disappears. Quartz is left, staring at his hands and the mist, the hint of a troubled expression through his silvery-black beard.