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Finnah reads it too. Birds cannot grin, but she tries.

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"Thank you, Mother. Feel free to send it when I let the time bubble down; I'm not sure what would happen if you tried beforehand."

He traipses back down to start composing form letters for some of the other complaints.

Dear Name of Correspondent: Thank you for your suggestion about Name of Disease. Many people have written me to suggest I eliminate this and other conditions. Here is a list of all the health issues I plan to deal with. They will cross themselves out as they are handled. [miraculously up-to-date list]

Dear Name of Correspondent: Yes, at least one person I know of has contacted the pontiff about me. The miracle workers have discovered that it would be trivially easy to give all vampires infinite lifespans not dependent on their diet, and the vampire we consulted said he would write to the pontiff about it. You and the [miraculously up-to-date number] other people who have asked me about this can rest assured the pontiff has been informed.

Dear Name of Correspondent: Your name and request have been added to the list of people who have written me to ask for magical powers. If and when the miracle workers decide to start systematically fulfilling these requests, you and the [miraculously up-to-date number] other people on the list will be contacted.

Those ones are easier. When he gets around to writing a less rude form response to the letters to shren alyemi, he finds himself reopening the letters in that box and reading the ones he managed to avoid doing more than skim the first time around.
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This one contains psychological speculation that being an infected shren may have damaged Mial's understanding of reality because it must have been very traumatic. That one is writing because she heard from her cousin that there was a last shren, and not only a last shren but a mean shren who was continuing to be a shren at everyone, and she doesn't think that can possibly be right because she met a shren once who was very polite and self-effacing, and does he want to put a stop to this cruel rumor? This one wonders if he's been referred to a good psychologist; the writer's great great great grand nephew has a practice in Daasen. That one read in an old article that Mial's growth was stunted by potions and wonders if it affected his brain and suggests earnestly that the miracle magic seems pretty flexible and maybe it could fix that too.

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Ugh.

Okay then.

He writes this one in Reform Draconic.

Dear Name of Correspondent: You and many other people have written to ask me about being the last shren and whether I might like to stop. I would not like to stop. I am not doing this out of spite or for attention or because of coercion or derangement. I am not being slandered by rumour and I do not need psychological help. I am a shren, and I will remain a shren, by my own free choice. I am a shren and I will remain a shren because I would rather be a shren than a siad. Perhaps you believe no one could possibly want such a thing; perhaps you believe shrens are inferior, awful, degenerate, frightening. I disagree with that opinion. And I will continue disagreeing. And I will continue being a shren.

Ialsafei siahrraki,
Mialavar, the Last Shren


That seems polite enough for his purposes.
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"You're doing very well with the self-control of your obnoxiousness lately," comments Finnah. "Within reason."

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"I'm trying to develop a policy of only being obnoxious to people if they are obnoxious to me first. Or do something really annoying even without quite meaning to, like that guy who wrote in asking me to kill my own mother."

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"He technically didn't say kill, maybe he was imagining you'd turn them into caterpillars."

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"Eliminate by whatever means, then, but he definitely seemed to be implying I should kill them."

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"Yeah. Thanetanik," shrugs Finnah.

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"Yeah. I hope he thinks twice before advocating mass murder to a miracle worker again. I like how Mom went out of her way to avoid implying that I might decide to eliminate all Thanetanik instead."

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"Very nice of her."

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"Anyway. You think I've successfully managed to write a non-obnoxious form letter affirming my intention to continue being a shren, then?"

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"I don't know if it'll shut down people determined to argue with you, but yeah, I don't think it's obnoxious."

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"People who are determined to argue with me can probably be ignored unless they argue themselves all the way to the other form letter."

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"Shrennaki shrennaki shrennaki," snickers Finnah. "Shrennaki."

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"Shrennaki," he agrees. "Okay, so that's that taken care of..."

He looks through his impromptu filing system. "What do I tell the people who are worried about future shren eggs? The impression I get from Lazarus is that he was just planning to leave it up to us locals to cure them as they appear, which is admittedly much more feasible now that siahrs are all immortal. But I'm not sure if I should pester Lazarus about it again, or just assume that he had a good reason and tell everyone that's how it's going to be."
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"Pester him, why not," says Finnah.

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"Sure. Okay, people who want me to solve their political problems should get a form letter, and there should be a generic one for people with non-political requests I can't or don't want to fulfill..."

He drafts those.

Dear [Name of Correspondent]: Miracle magic can do a lot of things, but it can't solve politics, at least not directly. Complicated social problems don't stop being complicated just because some powerful magic got involved. I cannot help you.

Dear [Name of Correspondent]: For reasons of impracticality, impossibility, or undesirable consequences, your request is denied.

"And now I have a reasonably comprehensive filing system and a reasonably comprehensive set of responses. I think we can go back to normal time. And I can send off a whole lot of form letters and then go pester Lazarus."
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"Fun. Pity I didn't get my nap, but I guess this was more interesting."

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"Being the only public face of miracle workers and publicly the Last Shren is certainly not conducive to a dull life."

He miracles all of his magical file boxes up to his room, adds another box for unsorted incoming mail, notifies his mother that he's taking down the time bubble, does that, and then sends off a whole lot of form letters. It goes a lot faster with miracle magic, but it still takes nonzero time and it isn't exactly riveting. Perhaps Finnah will find that she has better things to do with the remaining time until her shift.
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Finnah checks the time and then heads off to work.

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And Mial, once he has sent off all the form letters, sits down and reads the letter from Finnah's egg father. He still hasn't quite decided if he wants to write a rude response, or ignore it, or what, but he has definitely decided that whatever he does about it will be totally insulated from Finnah.

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My letters to my daughter don't seem to be getting through, or if she's getting them, I don't think she's giving them a fair reading.

Whatever happened to Finnah in her childhood to leave her so bitter was not my doing. I hope that since she seems close to you, you may be able to ask her to listen to me; if nothing else it seems it would surely take a miracle. I don't know if you can understand my position without being a parent yourself but I implore you to try. She's my daughter, my only one living. Please.
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Mial considers the letter. He reads it over again. He sighs and writes a response.

Things that have happened to Finnah include you handing her egg off to a stranger to be destroyed. Instead she hatched in a park outside my house when I was a few weeks old. On balance, I'm not really upset about that on my own behalf, but it's inarguably something you did and it does not exactly speak to positive fatherly feelings.

For reasons of her own that I agree are neither your fault nor your business, Finnah doesn't want anything to do with you. I couldn't argue her out of this preference if I tried and I respect her too much to try. I suggest that you stop trying to harass her about it. If you want to have children who will want you in their lives, there are plenty of other ways.


And with that taken care of, he starts organizing all the things he's going to pester Lazarus about.
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It's a day and a half before instead of (more) letters, there is a knock on the door.

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