Mass Effect: Transcendence

Sublimare

Sublimare 

by writeowl 

The buildings of the Presidium jutted out into the waterway; silver stalagmites that appeared to climb above some of the greenest plant life that Garrus had ever seen. Snaking through the crowd, he followed behind the rest of the team, watching Liara's blue crests weave through the mass of people on the walkway. An asari and her young daughter bumped into him, laughing and clutching yellow playbills in their hands.

He forced his way further through the crowd, catching up to Liara. Motioning toward one of the theater-goers, he asked, "Do you see those things they're all holding? What in the world is that man on the front of them wearing?"

Liara strained to look. The playbills displayed an image of a man in black robes; a long, thin sword at his side. He was laughing and fanning himself with a giant green folding fan. "Those are playbills they're holding from a theater performance. If I remember my culture studies correctly, he's wearing something from human culture called wafuku." She pointed to the billboard above the theater. "It's from The Mikado."

"What's it about?" Shepard asked.

"I think it's a rather dark but witty comedy," Liara purred, "it grapples with the strain of tradition and patrician ideals of honor while mocking the very philosophies that the characters deem so important, contrasting the themes of death and cruelty in complete farce. "

Garrus stopped. He looked at her, a blank stare on his face. "So what does that mean, in non-anthropological terms?"

"It means that death is a big joke," she replied dryly. "Anyways, it's an operetta by the humans Gilbert and Sullivan," she continued.

"Gilbert and Sullivan," Shepard mused. "Mordin's favorite."

Liara nodded, trying to hide her laughter. "He was surprisingly, uh, musically ambitious."

Shepard grinned. "You mean you didn't like his singing?"

"Well," Liara deliberated, "It was...an acquired taste."

"I didn't mind," Garrus said, "and I don't even like theater. What was that one he was singing for me before...'For He Is an Englishman.' Always made me laugh with that one."

"That's from the H.M.S. Pinafore," Liara interjected.

"No, I swear it was from the other one. You know. The one about duty," Garrus argued.

"I thought they were all about duty," Shepard argued back.

"No, they're not," Liara chided.

"I still think it was the other one. Pirates and duty and all that nonsense," Garrus muttered.

"Honestly," Liara huffed. "Still, if I could have seen Mordin performing anything, The Mikado would have been it. I can just picture him singing 'Three Little Maids From School' in falsetto. It would have been quite charming, actually." She laughed.

Garrus held his forehead as if in mock pain. "Look, like I said, theater, or poetry, or whatever, really isn't my thing. This conversation is giving me a headache. "

"That's a shame, Garrus. You're missing out on so much culture," Liara said.

"Thanks just the same. But if you're looking for some kind of culture-appreciation victim, let me know. I have a none-too-short list of people I'd be happy for you to torture in my place," he said.

Shepard slipped past the edge of the crowd and behind the theater. She turned, nearly tripping over someone. He stood there, half hidden in the shadows, leaning patiently against the wall. Watching, as if he was waiting for them.