Ethos & Amity

Chapter 2: The Idealist On The Job

              

"Today says scarlet. Right?"

Marvus stood before the long mirror with its flared edges of sculpted black and gold flames, suspended from two metal rods attached to the ceiling. He admired, or rather, questioned, his ensemble for the day. The day. Day One.

"What is appropriate decor for the rest of your life?"

A visual assessment went into full study. Dress slacks, admittedly a deeper shade than scarlet, (might as as well dub it crimson and save some fuss), but the accented chrome chain dangling from the deep left pocket (for the attached billfold, and style) gave Marv's legs a long, sophisticated swing when he stepped. This was good, as Marvus was not a tall gent, barely above 176 centimeters. The socks? Slim, bright scarlet, crosshatch pattern. Not the most ideal fabric for an arctic day, but the demands of business attire outranked the litany of common sense. Marvus wiggled his toes in the socks. Not too tight. Excellent. Moving up the line of sight to the area of doubt; the shirt and its obvious close binding. Silk, since it came to the Tetrarchy twelve years ago and created a new industry boom, lowered the price of such goods and engendered a plethora of designs. Marv preferred ones that showed off his hard work at athletics. After all, it was hard to convince others that the 'lonely historian bookworm' engaged in freerunning during his rare moments of spare time. An amazing set of abs made the argument for him. It was the sole habit from childhood, when he and Jonn used to jump the many high railings in the Complexes, that Marv used for enjoyment and stress relief. But, what would Archivist Harvest think of his showing off? He didn't seem to mind at yesterday's post-hire briefing...

But he spent a considerable amount of time in the talk glaring at Marv's abdomen.

"Right. Substance over style in this case. First impressions. Well, second, anyway."

So, he removed the tight athletic top and wandered over to the walk in closet for a variant design, less constrictive, more studious. As he walked, Marvus pressed the digital button on the wall to turn on the viewer. His was a simple design, a flat oval screen imbedded in the wall, around 150 centimeters long. Best get the day's weather and burghal news along with a shirt.

"...a massive undertaking indeed, but the Observatory Wing of the Artisan Houses has completed its twenty-year assessment of Ring Theory. For those who might not have kept up with the study, or its concurrent project, Vernal Moth One, Ring Theory is actually an old concept developed back two centuries ago during the initial Age of Powered Flight. Vendig Reddsift, inventor of the first flying machine formulated this theory, believing that we could one day inhabit the asteroid belt around the Moon, as frequenting the Moon itself would be much too volatile. Over the course of time, scientists added many and varied ideas to Reddsift's dream, but the main one to stick came with the formation of the Aubade Kinship: solar sails..."

Marv chose his shirt as the report went on. He picked the kind tucked in and requiring a belt, which for an extra three seconds caused an emotional uproar that the slacks would have to change as well. But he remembered the plain red belt with the sliding clasp, no buckle, and all was right again. The shirt, a pullover of loose scarlet silk, had three buttons at the top and a high rounded collar. Once tucked in, it enhanced the sleek sides of his figure, while presenting the appearance of a man who gave a care about his chosen profession. Off and away from the bedroom Marv moved and stood over the spotless white counter in his minimalist kitchen, gazing into a blood red coffee cup full of that bitterblack drink from the ferrous meteoric nation of Yu-Tal-Uz. The best coffee came from there, hands down.

Black. Cherry. White. Circle. Rectangle. Confined cup. Open countertop. Such sharp distinctions. Perfect divisions between shapes and hues. Art at home.