call me maybe [Connecticut Yankee] | Glowfic Constellation

from_scratch

"No, wait, back up, explain the time travel," says Eyndiel.

"The time travel is unexplained to us too," says Cam. "Expect alternate universes."

"...riiiight," says Eyndiel. "Anyway, I can do path-clearing more or less indefinitely with an hour break every twelve hours, plenty of coffee, and my first payment, delivered in advance, being a decent music player and library to listen to while I do it. I don't actually want a houseplant or a demon kitten, I want new-model computer hardware, I can move whatever I don't keep back home, but if this is 536..."

"Demon's from the same year you are. And even if that were not the case you could still just name your models," Cam says.

"Right."

connecticut_yankee

"The vanishing is to make room for an elevated train system. Any place that's been painted yellow needs to have trees removed from above it, blue circles mean holes for supports to be appeared there, and red means the site of a future station. Cleared and dug out enough for a building's foundations, say three feet.
The northward line is the most important. We have maps of course."

from_scratch

"You're going to have to tell me how high you need the line cleared and how deep you want the holes," Eyndiel says.

connecticut_yankee

"This being 536, just get rid of any trees with encroaching branches. There aren't any telegraph wires or anything important crossing these routes that could get in the way.
The holes will need to hold piles, and since we don't have to have people physically dig it anymore...can you give it a good fifteen meters? If you have to pull over to get line of sight, slowing down is fine."

from_scratch

"Sure. And you want all this stuff turned into air, not water or raspberry seeds or anything?"

"If we need water or raspberry seeds or anything we've got that covered," Cam assures her.

She nods.

"You'd also have to avoid talking too much to anybody you meet on the way," he muses. "But refusing to speak at all might look weird. We might want to give you a script."

connecticut_yankee

"If anyone asks, you're on an errand from the Boss and it's part of building a new train line. You'll pass some people claiming to be on the same errand; just tell them you can do it faster and better by some means that's a trade secret but you've convinced me it works. Please don't under any circumstances reveal that your magic is useful for more than digging holes.

I don't expect anyone else will challenge you, but be prepared for bystanders to stare. If the disappearing earth weren't unusual enough, the scooter will be."

from_scratch

"I can do a script," says Eyndiel. "Write it out for me, though, if I have to wing it that's a recipe for something getting miscommunicated."

"Is she supposed to send whatever workers she runs into home or just go past them and do whatever they haven't gotten to?" asks Cam.

connecticut_yankee

"Send them home. It's a bit redundant, but nothing they can do is anywhere near as effective as magic."
Hank puts pencil to notepad and starts writing scripts. The result should satisfy (in increasing length of how hard it could get) the general bystander population, the set of emissaries who went on the now-redundant recruitment mission, and any workers with complaints about being outcompeted. This last gets a line saying that they'll still be paid for that day.

"One more thing. This is the sixth century, and you are going to look like an outsider pretty much everywhere. In the unlikely emergency that you get attacked and have to use magic, it's probably better to defend yourself by vanishing things rather than be revealed as invulnerable. And less unpleasant."

from_scratch

"She might not have the reaction time to do that if a lot of people shoot at her," Cam says.

"I might not," agrees Eyndiel. "One person's arrows, sure, a whole bunch of them isn't going to happen that fast."

"But preferentially vanish weapons rather than let them scratch you," says Cam.

"Sure."

connecticut_yankee

"Weapons, any nearby scenery, an attacker's pants. There are plenty of ways to stop people from attacking you if you pull off an impossible effect and act intimidating. It shouldn't come up, though.
Is there anything else we need to go over, or are you ready to start?"

from_scratch

"Watch the language that sounds like you're offering the task as-is without specs clearly defined," hisses Cam.

"It's his first day, I'm not that much of a jerk," says Eyndiel.

"I'll write it up for you," Cam says, and he produces his computer and starts fiddling with a template of task assignment.

"Oh, hey, you have the brain surgery model," whistles Eyndiel.

"It's fast," Cam says absently as he finishes laying out the task and then turns the display. "Hank, does this look like what you want?"

connecticut_yankee

"Wait, what? You aren't how much of a jerk?" Whatever this is sounds categorically more important than the display.

from_scratch

"She isn't enough of a jerk to smirk at you and step out of her circle on the strength of you asking her if she's ready to start. Which would give any summoner who knew what was going on a heart attack even if she didn't then exploit the fact that you never expressly told her not to turn your guts into bees."

connecticut_yankee

"...oh."
Hank looks at the display and sees a long string of ironclad anti-bee provisions. "Oh.
Um, this looks like it has everything we went over and, apparently, then some."
Focus on business. The near miss will be less terrifying.
"Eyndiel, do you mind if the scooter's cosmetically different, more 1890s-looking?"

from_scratch

"That's fine, as long as it works," says Eyndiel.

"Should it have a giant wheel and a tiny wheel?" asks Cam innocently.

connecticut_yankee

Hank laughs. "I was just thinking of something that looks like it could plausibly be running on internal combustion and made of steel, as opposed to whatever the outside of your spaceship was."
Also, apparently a scooter is like a future bicycle. He already knew that, definitely.

from_scratch

"All clunky and steampunk with visible rivets," suggests Cam. "It can chug and sputter at intervals."

"And I'll take it home and sell it to a museum," suggests Eyndiel, smiling.

"Sure, why not. Any other last-minute stuff to add?"

connecticut_yankee

"Not on the common sense side. The justified-paranoia parts definitely look complete enough, but then I'm used to taking it for granted that employees don't need to be told not to destroy the planet."

from_scratch

"She can't destroy the planet," says Cam. "Or at least she'd have to be really creative. And this will prevent her from destroying things which are smaller than the planet and larger than train-obstructions. If you're all set, you say something like, oh, 'You may accept the terms presented and be on your way' is traditional."

connecticut_yankee

"She can if she—" Hank shuts up.
"Uh, you may accept these terms and be on your way."

from_scratch

Eyndiel bows a little, smirking, and then sets about making herself more presentable.

"I'll go fetch you your things," says Cam, and he steps out of the room to pretend to address a separate demon. He comes back with a boxy scooter made of steel and rubber and leather, unpainted and undetailed. "How's this?" he asks Hank.

connecticut_yankee

"Could plausibly come from Camelot. Not necessarily saying I could build one, but it's 1890s enough that it looks like it."

from_scratch

"I really doubt you could build one. It's battery-powered, for one thing. Eyndiel, copies of your scripts if you need them and some cloud fluff to turn into incidentals are under the seat. We'll show you where to start. Thisaway."

Thisaway they go.

connecticut_yankee

"I mean I haven't ruled out being able to build what this looks like. With an actual internal combustion engine and everything." Hank looks under the seat. "Cloud fluff?"

from_scratch