The URIEL Christmas Party

Michael

My proposed invite list is the Club plus Andrew, Viv, and Rose.

And +1s (Mary-Lynn)

Terence is likely having his own Solstice jam up at Druid Heights with drugs and drum circles and such; Viv may stop by there afterwards if anyone wants to come.

Some background color for the weekend before Christmas, 1973

[CBS 9:00] Movie: The Chairman (1969) W: Ben Maddow D: J. Lee Thompson With Gregory Peck, Anne Heywood, Arthur Hill, Alan Dobie, Keye Luke, Conrad Yama. A Nobel Prize winner, en route to China, is assigned to obtain there the secret formula for an enzyme that permits crops to be grown almost anywhere, thus holding world political domination in the balance.

[ABC 10:00] Food: Green Grow The Profits ABC News examines "agribusiness", the increasing involvement of big business corporations in the production and marketing of food. Roger Peterson, Dick Shoemaker and Bill Wordham report.

US Top 40 Singles Week Ending 22nd December, 1973

And what were the SCA/Renaissance Pleasure Faire nerds doing around Christmas in San Francisco? Well, this, on New Year's Eve.

Also, The Sting drops on Christmas Day; The Exorcist drops the day after.

Throughout the month of December—after returning from Utah and South Dakota respectively over Thanksgiving—Archie, Jo, and Roger begin making plans for the move to LA. As mentioned, we'll have dedicated private jets to get us back and forth between the Bay Area and the Southland as needed under the new scheme, but Archie, Jo, and Roger will likely need to find new digs in LA (and maybe, just maybe, a new '74 automobile for each of them to use while in LA). Archie's work with the folks at TCI cable and some of the embryonic satellite TV industry will lead to URIEL's Southland offices; I'm guessing we don't want to take over the positively grim and haunted Lookout Mountain facility as our primary HQ but we can claim it as one of the URIEL LA facilities for media storage, secret planning, etc.

Mitch likely will have made a couple of trips to Shasta in December, beginning to make inquiries, Serendipitous and otherwise, to find a physical location for a new home and a new school, and looking to recruit teachers from among the New Age types who are hanging around Shasta. Trips to try to begin to "disinfect" them both of the Comte meme.

Marshall and Sophie will work on the URIEL North move logistics: getting all the confidential case dossiers, Renshaw machines, etc. to our new San Francisco offices, which will be URIEL North Central. Sophie will use the extra space at Livermore—the old cube farm, etc.—for MORE BOOKS. Our library will expand and Sophie will be queen of the roost in Livermore. Also, given our reality shard hoard, it would make sense for us to get a very loyal SANDMAN commando unit on site at Livermore to act as guards.

Job offers can start to go out in mid-to-late December to folks we're looking to bring onboard, at whatever level of recruit we're talking about, either full Sandmen or friendlies. And of course we can talk about those relocation offers at the Christmas party. Terence McKenna is up at Druid Heights on the evening of the 21st and there is a solstice happening going on, hosted by Alan Watts and other Druid Heights habitués, if people want to stop there after the Ransoms' gathering. That's my setup for Christmas!

Oh, I almost forgot, Rose and Charley: Charley's initial suspicion, coldness, and "I'm just going to go back to the lab and back to work" around her mom started to melt a little bit after Charley accompanied the Ransoms back to Salt Lake City for Thanksgiving. Throughout December, Charley's been getting both some mediated quality time (with Viv in a therapeutic setting) as well as time with Rose one-and-one and with the Ransoms.

Leonard

As a reminder, Jocasta is renting her old place in the East Bay to Rose. She's bought a new bungalow at 16763 W. Sunset Boulevard in the Pacific Palisades neighborhood of L.A. She's also going to rent out a small storefront, under the cover of a used bookstore with a large occult section to keep reference materials close at hand and to keep one eye on the local weirdo community; but its real purpose is an office to put people at ease...and a large and well-stocked back room for black bag jobs. It's in a small, older strip mall at 7019 Reseda Boulevard in the Valley. I think she'll hold on to the zippy little Javelin for now.

The bookstore is called the Light of the Lodge, after early SoCal mystic/kook/theosophist Katherine "The Purple Mother" Tingley.

Michael

It's a rainy early evening in San Francisco on Friday the 21st of December; the Christmas decorations are up all over Pacific Heights and most of the good people of the tony district are done with their jobs for the rest of calendar year 1973 on this merry Friday evening. Some are headed to San Francisco International this very evening to begin long Christmas visits with relatives, other well-to-do families from Pac Heights might be heading out to Utah or Colorado for Christmas ski trips, but many folks in the City this Friday night are doing last-minute Christmas shopping at the retail outlets on Market Street... or in "hippie" shops in the Fillmore.

The Ransom home is set up for an intimate Christmas gathering; nothing as meticulously-planned and wide-open invitation-wise as the traditional annual Fourth of July celebration. This party is just for the folks at Archie Ransom's "workplace" and their family members... a workplace that is about to change in some very fundamental ways. For the past six years, Archibald Ransom has been a member of Project SANDMAN; for the past five-and-three-quarters years, he has lived here at 2604 Pacific Avenue and commuted out to Livermore. But come the new year, he and some of his colleagues will be taking over operations down in Los Angeles, and Archie will become a man adrift.

Melanie agreed with Archie that with Jane finishing high school and applying for college this year (Cal-Berkeley, USC, and UCLA are tops on her college list) and Eddie, who already has documented trouble fitting in socially, now a sophomore in high school, the best thing for the kids would be to remain here in San Francisco for at least the rest of the school year. Melanie and Archie figure for the next 5-6 months, Archie can "commute" between LA and SF; this "new" job has seen clear to giving Archie access to a private jet for him and his coworkers to be able to work out of Northern and Southern California equally if necessary. Archie will catch flights most Monday mornings down to Hollywood–Burbank Airport from SFO and return Friday afternoons, weather- and schedule-permitting.

In any event, with the Livermore crew from the past year splitting up it seems, it seemed appropriate to bring the team together one last time to chat about the coming year, the new assignments and projects, and generally just make sure we're all on the same page as to what our agendas will be in 1974. Given how Archie "levelled" with Melanie about his job having to do with intelligence back in late July, and that most of the party guests are URIEL members or friendlies, if at a certain point, Jane and Eddie got bored hanging out with the grown-ups and Melanie was in the kitchen taking care of the Christmas refreshments, we could set up a "zone of exclusion" with NLP to allow the party guests to speak freely.

(I would imagine Genevieve would bring her husband Charles, because more protective coloration means more opportunity to split off the URIEL folks into a little conversational group of their own.)

Brant

"My father used to love to tell stories about her performance at the Hollywood Canteen. How she made the boys cry — these corn-fed boys from Alabama, you know, about to be shipped off to fight the 'Japs' in the South Pacific, homesick and scared." Marshall says quietly to no one in particular.

Michael

Andrew Krane, early to all parties that anyone bothers to invite him to, stands at the Ransom family hi-fi, looking through all their Holiday 45s after having taken Marshall's request for a little Judy. "I prefer Sinatra's version on the whole... but she really was the consummate performer." Andrew's wearing a reindeer sweater that Viv gave him as a holiday goof back in '62 after she and Charles had moved back from Boston. "Got Hollywood on your mind tonight, Doc?" Andrew keeps his voice low, even with Melanie, Charles, and Viv in the kitchen. "I hear there are big things afoot, and they involve LA."

Leonard

Jocasta breezes into the party right on time, figuring she has plenty of opportunities to adopt the fashionably-late L.A. lifestyle ahead of her. The cool weather and rain keeps her out of the slight sundresses she's favored since buying her little beach bungalow but she's outfitted herself in Classic Jocasta Mode one last time.

"No shop talk yet," she scolds Andrew. "Plenty of time for that later. More than enough. For now it's Christmas, and, inspired by our mutual friend Viv, I have come bearing presents." She hoists a big Army duffel onto the couch and unbuckles it. "I might as well give you yours first, though. Since you've been so nice even after I pushed you around the first time we met." She fishes around in the bag and comes up with a stack of magazines tied together with string, some dating back to 1952. "I got a pile of these recently. Put out by a handful of Theosophists in Pasadena, of all places. Maybe you'll find some inspiration." She gives him a peck on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Andy."

Michael

Andrew chuckles to himself, thinking back to six months ago and the crazy way he met all these people. "Well thanks, Jo. I'm guessing you won't find this hard to believe, but getting familiar with the metaphysical landscape of Pasadena actually sounds like my idea of a very fun time."

Leonard

"I don't find it at all hard to believe," she laughs. "Dr. Redgrave, something for you." She hands him a ceramic sculpture of a bodhi leaf. "I found it when I was in the jungle a few years ago. Maybe it's an ancient artifact. Maybe it's a cheap souvenir. But I know how much you love a mystery. Mo phat, Marshall."

Brant

Marshall takes and examines it with a smile. "Dhanya vad, Jocasta. Very kind of you. It'll look great in our new office downtown."

Leonard

Jocasta leaves the gents to talk alternate realities and wanders into the kitchen. "Hello, Melanie," she says when she spots Archie's wife. "I, uh, I got you something." There's something low and respectful in her voice as she places two thick hardcover books on the counter. "I know you don't need any help in the kitchen -- goodness knows, I've had your cooking — and I feel a little, well, strange giving a woman a cookbook. There's so much more to you than that. But, well, there's so much more to her than that too. She worked in intelligence during the war, you know. Or maybe you didn't. And..." She pauses for an awkward moment, seeming flustered; her defenses are down when talking to someone who's in but not of her world. "I used to be married. And her books taught me to cook. I didn't make it work. And you did. In this...this world. I know how much all of this disrupts that, and makes it hard. I'm sorry about that. But...this is not me asking you for forgiveness, or friendship. It's just me saying that I admire the hell out of you. Pardon my French."

"I, uh, don't really know what to get kids," she adds. "Jane and Eddie are gonna have to settle for these, I'm afraid. And maybe a couple grand in their college funds." She hands over an envelope with a sheepish smile.

Michael

"Carolyn, I..." In a flash, with this little monologue, Jo's Empathy tells her that it seems like Melanie understands Jo on a deep level, one she's never had occasion to up to this point. All those months of being Charley's "tutor," then the realization after Melanie and Archie's heart-to-heart that those weird people at her husband's work are probably also intelligence agents, then putting two and two together on Jo/Carolyn's whole thing, have all suddenly crystallized. Maybe it's realizing that Jo almost had a life just like hers but somehow it all ended up so different, maybe it's all the time that Charley has been spending with her mom since Thanksgiving, maybe it's the imminent change in her own life with Archie's LA office and Jane going off to college soon, maybe it's merely being maudlin around the holidays—which she has been since Charlie died—but Melanie sheds a few tears as she looks down at the two Julia Child cookbooks.

"This is so thoughtful. Oh, please excuse me," she says, wiping her eyes as quickly as she can. She then straightens up and speaks in a lower, quieter tone. "'Intelligence during the war.'" Melanie passes her hand over the covers of the two cookbooks. "I've been thinking a lot about the things we sacrifice for the greater good lately. I've been thinking about family, too... and growing older." She looks over to Archie holding court with Charles and Viv (and anybody else who hasn't piped up yet in this scene). "Cooking," she laughs, shaking her head. "Soon there's going to be nobody to cook for here. I suppose I never really thought about it, because motherhood keeps you so busy." She looks over at Charley, probably in the TV room watching Christmas specials with Jane and Eddie, pondering Charley's recent bonding with the mother she thought she'd lost... and what that might mean for her. "Before you know it, they're all gone, off living their own lives. I never even thought about my own mother in that regard, but seeing her over Thanksgiving..." Melanie purses her lips, as if she's remembering a fight or some kind of conflict, inner or otherwise. "Ah, listen to me. These are lovely, Carolyn, thank you. I love her TV show, she seems like such a card. Maybe with the kids off eating at their friends' houses all the time and with Archie away, I can get a little more adventurous in the kitchen!"

Rob

Actually, I think Archie is not yet holding court, but is instead late to his own party. He was supposed to fly in from L.A. this afternoon, but he's putting in long hours and even private jets get delayed, so he arrives home after dark, not for the first time this Fall. He comes in the front door frazzled, his briefcase in one hand, two shopping bags of hastily purchased and not yet wrapped presents under the other arm. "Hi honey, I'm-- oh gosh, everyone is here!" He puts on his game face, big smiles for everyone. "Well, ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!" Comes straight over to Jo and Melanie, gives his wife a hug, a sincere apology, and a 3/4 true excuse, making quick eye contact with Jo over the remaining 1/4. He scans the room: are the kids here? "Ok, just let me stash this loot and freshen up and I'll be back down in two shakes of a lamb's tail." And then he's gone again, up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Leonard

“I hope you get something out of them, Melanie,” Jocasta responds. “And I hope you know that this life can be lonely, but you’re never alone.” Pouring a cup of Melanie’s tasty Christmas punch (but silently wishing it had a snoot full of vodka in it), she calls to Archie as he dashes away. “Don’t disappear, chief,” she says. “I got something for you, too.” (edited)

Michael

Andrew picks up the needle and drops it on this stone classic.

Melanie

Charley and Eddie are glued to the T.V. watching this

Leonard

Jocasta sneaks quietly into the living room, hoping not to break the spell of the charming animation. "Hey, Charley," she whispers. "Sorry to interrupt, but I got you a present. You're a tough kid to shop for, you know. I almost got you a miniature Winnebago before I met with Johann Xanten and he recommended this. I'm sure you could have built one yourself, but hopefully you'll have some fun with it." She slides a cardboard box with Japanese printing on the label over to where Charley sits on the floor. "Merry Christmas, Charley. I'm sure happy to have got to know you."

Michael

The next person to ring the Ransoms' doorbell is Charley's mom, Rose Nichols. Over the past six weeks or so, she's been subletting Jocasta's place in Albany while Jocasta has been jetting around to South Dakota and Los Angeles, attending therapy with Viv solo as well as with Charley, and trying to prepare for the guest lectureship and research position that SANDMAN wrangled for her at the Berkeley anthropology department. She clutches a paper bag with a bottle in it as a party favor (Jo's wish to have a little something stronger than punch might be fulfilled) and while she's been over here to the Ransoms' several times over the past few weeks to pick up Charley and get to know the Ransoms, she still seems a little nonplussed at being included as part of this weird extended family. Awkwardly, she says hello to Melanie and Genevieve and Charles in the kitchen, and then makes her way to the TV room to sit with Charley. Once she gets there, she sees Jo. "Oh, hello! And hi sweetheart." She kisses Charley on top of her head and peeks at the import Theremin in her lap. "Oooh, that looks fun. I know you're probably excited because all your favorite electronic composers use them," Rose says to Charley, "but for me, that's the sound of the creepy horror and science fiction movies I used to go see back in high school 'n' college. The Day the Earth Stood Still!" Jo notices how Rose has gotten a handle on Charley's hobbies, her likes and dislikes, in a very short time since her rejoining the real world and being reunited.

Melanie

Charley's eyes light up at the site of Jocasta with a gift in hand. "A theremin!! I LOVE it!! It's my favorite; its sounds are so beautiful; thank you, Jo!" Charley squeezes her tightly before retrieving a colorfully wrapped LP-shaped gift. "Here Jo!" (When Jocasta unwraps her gift, she finds this.)

Leonard

"Aw, Charley, this is wonderful! How did you know I'm a fan?" Jo coos. "Probably because you've been in the car with me a few dozen times. Well, I love it. Thank you so much," she says, returning Charley's tight embrace.
"Hello, Rose," she replies to the former Agent RAVEN. "Good to see you. I hope you two are settling in at my old place. Too big for me, but just right for two, I'd think." She glances at the Ishibashi box. "Sorry about that. I hope it's not like buying a toddler a drum kit."

Melanie

“Hi Mom! Listen to this!” Charley has already figured out the theremin and has been “entertaining” and not “annoying” her brother with it. Hearing the debate between the two from the kitchen Melanie suggests that a “Christmas song might be nice” so by the time Rose has arrived Charley has learned to play “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”.

Michael

(Canonically neither Roger, Mitch, or Mary-Lynn have arrived yet so feel free to save gifts for when they do)

Leonard

Jocasta leaves Charley to bond with her mother and glides, accompanied by the eerie warbling tones of the theremin, over to Viv. "Hello, Viv," she says, and shakes Charles' hand. "Charles. I don't think we've met before, it's a pleasure." She opens her duffel again. "I don't think I ever properly thanked you for your lovely gift, Viv, and I feel really bad about that. I was, uh, in a bad place then, and I apologize. I hope this is a sufficient apology. It's a first edition." She hands over another thick hardback. "Charles, I'm afraid you'll have to settle for a dinner invitation for the two of you some night."

Michael

Genevieve looks at the copy of The Iron Heel. Intensely. She then looks up at Jocasta, or, more accurately, a space two or three feet above her head. Then out of the kitchen, in the direction of the Ransoms' front door. She gulps audibly and pauses, maybe, a little too long. Charles (who greeted Jo with jollity and a hearty handshake) looks over at his wife. "Hon? Is something the matter?" "Jo." Viv's faltering smile returns to her face in a flash as she takes Jo's gloved hand. "Oh. Oh, I'm fine, Charles. Would you mind getting me a little jot of punch?" Charles walks away, after putting a reassuring hand on Viv's shoulder. "Jocasta, thank you so much. You have nothing to apologize for, first of all. Second of all... yes. This book. One of the very first pieces of es-eff I ever read, in fact. What a gorgeous edition." She locks on eye contact with Jo. "A real piece of [Danbe word meaning "fate" or "destiny"]. I'm going to put this in a very safe place." Apropos of nothing, Viv says, "Mitch will be here soon," in a slightly distant, slightly dissociated way. Jo's Empathy clearly tells her this book has Viv a little spooked for some reason; it's not just the shock of seeing one of her very first scifi novels given as a gift. Curious.

Leonard

"You're more than welcome," Jo says warmly, but fixes her eyes on Viv's. "Are you okay? You look a little green. [We can speak freely]," she whispers in Danbe.

Michael

Genevieve, equally low and surreptitious, says, "I'm all right. [No danger, it's just... interesting.] Later, when Mitch gets here. Oh! There's my drink!" Charles edges back into the circle with Genevieve's punch. "Thank you, sweetheart." She kisses Charles on the cheek. "I love seeing Santa pulling presents out of an Army duffel bag," Viv says to Jo, putting the conversation back on trivial Christmas party terms. "Although I have to wonder if Archie is upstairs right now changing into a full Santa outfit. Oh, Jo, I meant to ask... are you going to go to Alan and Terence's solstice thing at Druid Heights later tonight? I only ask because that's not really Charles's scene and I could use a ride if so."

Charles, sheepishly, kind of shrugs and grins as if to apologize for the fact that drum circles, taking mushrooms, and/or talking about the metaphysics of cometary visits and eclipses aren't quite his scene.

Andrew takes the opportunity once Charley is done with her impromptu Theremin concert in the TV room to switch things up and put an LP on the turntable. Side B, track 2.

Leonard

"Hmmm. Well, ending up at a party with drum circles and entheogens is exactly what I would expect to end up doing on Christmas, and Marshall has said we should be doing things differently. But if I don't go, is it really me? These are the questions I dread asking Terence McKenna," she smiles. "We'll see where the night takes me."

Jocasta steps onto the leafy front porch of the Ransom residence for a much-needed smoke. Having copped a j before coming over, she feels a little light around the edges, and finds herself humming one of the old kalandas she remembers fro childhood.

Michael

(Heh, I was gonna have Viv ask about Jo's Greek Christmas traditions but then you had to go and drop Jack London on me. )

Jeff

"Jo, hi."

Michael

Mary-Lynn says hi to Jo, kisses her on the cheek (no hug given her hands are full), and sidles by Jo into the house. "'Scuse me, I got a bunch of stuff for the kitchen and under the tree in here," Mary-Lynn says holding up a big handled shopping bag, "I'll let you two catch up out here and have a smoke."

Leonard

Jocasta taps a cigarette out of her holder and hands it over to Mitch. "Mitchell, how are you? It sees like forever since I've seen you. How's things going up on the mountain? And how are things with," she looks back at the kitchen, "Mary-Lynn? Was she sick recently or did I dream that?" She hoists up her duffel bag, fishing out a gatefold double-LP. "Before I forget. Merry Christmas."I went to Aquarius and asked the guy...well, basically, I asked him to give me something that would be the opposite of what I would listen to, but more like what someone I meant to be you would like. Once he stopped trying to hit on me, he sold me this. I have no idea if it's good or not, but it...vibed like you."

Jeff

Mitch stares at the album cover in blank confusion for a couple of seconds, then suddenly grins. "Oh, wow. Wow. Shit. Craig. Craig actually got this out? That's great. I've got to hear this —" Mitch grabs the LP and takes a step towards the Ransom door, then stops. "Oh, probably later. They've probably got Andy Williams on in there... Wow, thanks, Jo. I should... I'm going to stick this in my car, so it doesn't get damaged, okay?"

Leonard

“It’s yours! Do what you like with it. You can even tell me what it sounds like someday,” she smiles.

Jeff

"Well, thanks. Shasta's coming along — when are you heading up? I still need to introduce you to Jiyu."

Leonard

“I have a couple more boxes to tick off down here but I should be able to come up by the new year. I’m excited to meet with her,” Jo replies. “I could probably use some time up there, too, just to relax. Been in a lot of hotels and offices lately.”

Jeff

"Good, good. That's good. Time..." Mitch trails off with a shrug. "We've got a lot to do, not enough time to do it, but you gotta catch your breath from time to time."

Leonard

Jo takes a long drag on her smoke. "What's that movie with Bogart where they say 'time is a crook'?" she asks no one in particular. "Anyway, whatever I can do to help, you can count on me, Mitch. All the time I'm out there now, I'm still not sure if we're doing the right thing, or if there is a right thing, you know? But I feel like at least maybe we're doing our thing now. For better or worse."

Michael

Viv pops into the living room, goes up to the Ransom Christmas record box, flips through a few of the LPs and then, with a look of delight in her eyes, takes this one over to Andrew, whispering to him which track to play.

After Andy Williams finishes up, the sounds of this song start up. Viv returns to the kitchen, hugs Charles from behind, and Charles turns around and smiles down at her, holding her close. "God, Viv..." Charles smiles, looking quite choked up. "Tommy, our boy, loved this album... and the TV special. We played it so much that Christmas it came out," Charles says as a matter of explanation to Melanie and the other folks still in the kitchen.

Viv adds, "We've seen Vince's band play, oh, half a dozen times or so, isn't that right, Charles? An amazing musician and bandleader."

Whenever Jo and Mitch come back inside from their smoke break, Genevieve will be waiting to chat, having broken off from the Melanie-Charles-Mary-Lynn conversational bloc in the kitchen. "Merry Christmas, Mitch," Viv says. After some welcome pleasantries, Viv says, "I wanted to show you what Jocasta got me," she says, handing the first edition of The Iron Heel to him to look at. "I felt a... connection between it, you, me, and Jo as soon as I unwrapped it. Like it was something that was going to involve us all deeply and play a role in our lives at some point. Not this particular copy of the book, mind you..." Viv sort of uncharacteristically drifts off for a moment, as if she's concentrating again. "It's hard to explain how the fate sight works and feels, but it's more like the story—the narrative itself—is going to draw the three of us in. I don't feel any other strong connections to the other members of the team, but there are faint wisps of fate linking Archie, Marshall to it as well. Maybe Roger and Sophie, but the vibes are pretty weak there. I'm guessing I won't be able to say more until they show up in person."

Viv continues, giving Jo and Mitch plenty of opportunity to speak up. "Have either of you ever read it?"

Jeff

"No, I've never..." Mitch stares at the cover for a few seconds. "Wow, I should. I'd never heard of it."

Leonard

"I never read it. I read London's stories in high school and college, of course," Jocasta answers. "My dad loved him. When his parents immigrated here, he didn't really feel at home but always wanted to be...αμερικάνικος. He said London felt like America to him. But this one...I only heard about it. I just saw it at City Lights and, it felt like you, Viv. Maybe it felt like all of us."

Jeff

"The roots of ess-eff go deep in the Bay Area and northern California. This London novel, and his The Scarlet Plague, about a post-apocalyptic America dealing with the aftermath of a global pandemic in the year 2013. Of course you know all about A Dweller on Two Planets and how it ties into Mount Shasta lore; that was even earlier: Frederick Spencer Oliver wrote his first draft of the novel when he was only 20, in 1886. But unlike Oliver's... adolescent imaginings of an Atlantean theosophist paradise under the mountain, London's speculative work was always vitally and currently political; every dystopia he imagined had the roots of a socialist utopia somewhere within. And with him, are the roots of every political future history in English-language speculative literature, from Huxley to Orwell to... well, Krane and Abeille," Viv says. "The Scarlet Plague and The Iron Heel were both big influences on my Tur(n)ing Point trilogy."

"Anyway, the vibes I caught tonight seem to hint at one of the bigger things I've begun to realize in the past six months since my world opened up on a new level, which is that California is where people try to dream the future. Some of those dreamers are Cassandras, warning us against doom, doomed to be ignored in life." Viv holds up the Jack London book. "Others pen their own futures and try to write those futures into reality, able to see the larger narrative and steer it to their preferred future." Viv signs "O-Z-Y" in ASL. "And then of course there's whatever we're going to try doing from here on out. Collaborative speculative fiction becoming reality, maybe?"

"If this book was thrown in our way as a Cassandra—'watch out for the iron heel of fascism,' that sort of thing—I doubt that's the only level on which we're meant to understand it. Anyway, Mitch, you're free to borrow it and read it if you like, and if you get any deeper understanding of it, I'd love to hear it."

At this point the doorbell rings and Melanie welcomes Sophie to the party. Sophie's brunette locks have grown back significantly in the past three months or so since her return, so she's beginning to ditch the Kim Novak-as-a-blonde-in-Vertigo look, but her hair is still short, and she's teased it into a pixie cut, covering her scars as best the length can. She carries a pastry box and a bottle of Drambuie. "Cheers, everyone!" she says brightly. Seeing Jo, Mitch, and Viv clustered around a book, she of course gets curious at what it is.

Leonard

"Cheers, Sophie! You've got just what I need," Jo says, pouring herself a healthy glass of Drambuie. "I wasn't sure if we'd see you tonight, but I'm glad we did -- I have something for you." She pulls another flat LP out of her duffel bag, now diminished and collapsed, with only a few items left in it. "I kept thinking about that story you told me. About that little girl and the terrible king who ruled her land. How brave she was, and how she kept hoping even though so many wicked people were loose in her kingdom. And it reminded me of others in the neighboring kingdoms, and how they suffered too, and the ways they tried to keep up hope themselves."

As she hands Sophie the record, something flashes across her mind again, something she hasn't thought about in over eight months: Hitchhiker murders. She files it away immediately -- not tonight, not at a Christmas party -- but this time, in a part of her brain that holds things to be dealt with soon.

Michael

(reading about this now, holy crap)

Sophie spends some time looking over the French import LP, reading the intensely personal liner notes from Messiaen on the back discussing the historical and personal straits under which he devised this quartet. She translates, "One understands easily that under such circumstances," Sophie gives a meaningful look to Jocasta, "I did not address the cataclysms and monsters of the Apocalypse, but rather its silence in adoration, its marvelous visions of peace. Why this choice of text? Perhaps because in times of total... stripping of the self, we revisit the key concepts that determine our lives; that said, this text summarizes everything I hope for, everything I have loved, everything I continue to love." "Thank you, Jocasta." Sophie stares into the middle distance for a brief moment before returning eye contact. She puts down the LP and gives Jo a sudden, heartfelt hug.

Jeff

"Oh, Drambuie, cool." Mitch knows better than to look in Melanie's house for a liquor cabinet with scotch to mix it with, so has a splash on the rocks and sips it slowly.

Michael

"It's a Christmas tradition back home," Sophie says. "On the rocks is a bit bold for me, I'm going to see if I can knock up some cider or egg nog. Happy Christmas, Mitchell." Sophie smiles warmly and heads to the kitchen.

Rob

Archie comes down the stairs — from the bedroom? from the puppet attic? — looking more relaxed. He hasn't changed into a Santa suit, just done the standard Mr. Rogers: taken off his tie, changed his jacket for a light blue cardigan, his dress shoes for sneakers. He's now dressed like Bing Crosby about to invite David Bowie in for some caroling.

He heads to wherever the kids are first, to hug them and ask how their week has been.

Hearing A Charlie Brown Christmas, he smiles and-- "We know, Dad!" Jane shouts before he can say a word. "It was an ad for Coca-Cola."

"I was going to say 'a delightful ad for Coca-Cola'," he offers lamely. After some time with the kids, he pours a can of ginger ale over ice and joins the grown-up party.

Leonard

Jocasta, now a few Drambuies in, visibly perks up on seeing Archie come downstairs, but approaches him with uncharacteristic sheepishness. "Hi, chief," she says, giving him an even more chaste kiss, self-conscious for no reason. "Can I pull your coat for a minute? No shop talk, I promise."

She'll pull him aside — not in the kitchen or in the living room, now filling with their comrades and families, but somewhere else, somewhere with a respectable privacy: the front porch, or out back in the yard, under the awning as a light, chilled mist of rain blows its way towards the Bay. She's either unable to put off smoking anymore, or she really needs a cigarette, as she lights up a Slim with an apologetic look.

"What a year, you know, boss?" she says with a laugh. "Look, I don't want to take up your time as a host. I just wanted to say that through all of this, and me the way I've been," she continues, gesturing broadly with the cherry of her cigarette at the world and the world behind the world and very especially at herself, "It's been hard for any of us to trust anything. And you...well, thank you for trusting me, Archie."

"I got you something. I'm not gonna lie, it took me a good bit of looking and more to find this. But I did, and...I wish I'd been the right age to watch your shows, and not just the commercials. But this, I remember. From when I was a kid, no older than Charley is now. It was just gathering dust in a warehouse out in the Valley. Didn't seem right. Anyway, I hope you like it. Merry Christmas."

She presses a medium-sized wrapped paper package into Archie's arms. The package has an ornate wooden box inside, decorated by hand-painted flourishes in a turn-of-the-century Vaudeville style. In the box is an old comic book, published just before Arch was caught by those boys from the Korean People's Army. There is also, seated on a glittering cardboard throne in the opposite part of the box, with a few tears in his flashy costume and a little bit of wood dust, but intact and somehow still commanding -- just awaiting a new day with new words in a new voice — is Foodini the Great.

Rob

Archie is genuinely moved. He chuckles at first, to lighten the moment, but is honestly a little choked up. "Oh, gosh. Oh, golly. Will you look at that?" He turns the puppet over in his hands, holding it very gently, probing the controls but not actually putting it on his hand. "Isn't that something."

He looks up at Jocasta. "Jo, this is..." He lowers his voice a little on "Jo," but he's not going to spoil the moment by addressing her as "Carolyn." "Thank you. For this, for everything." A beat. "'What a year' is right. I mean... jeepers." He gestures, like she did, at the enormity of everything, and laughs at the inadequacy of his ability to convey it. Then he puts one hand on her shoulder. "But trusting you, Jo, that's no challenge at all. I sized you up the first day I met you. You're a rock. You might not believe it, but you are. I don't know where we'd be-- where I'd be, personally-- without you."

"And I'm sorry if I've been, ah, mulish about the security stuff down in L.A. I know it's important, and I know you're just doing your job. It's just... isn't it nice to forget the cloak and dagger stuff for a while, to pretend we just work in show business?"

He turns back to the puppet, looks it in the face as if he's about to speak to it. "'Foodini the Great,' ha ha. We should introduce him to Houdini--I wonder how they'd get on."

Then, out of the blue: "Do you think I should... get rid of the puppets?" He asks lightly, but holds Jo's gaze as he does. "I mean, it's a little funny, isn't it? A grown man talking to puppets like I do. Sometimes I wonder if it isn't time to, you know, put away childish things."

Leonard

Jocasta looks out at the night sky, tugging occasionally on her smoke, a long time -- too long, almost, long enough that someone who knows her might think she's spaced out and forgotten the question. But just before an awkwardness descends on the porch, she turns back to Archie.

"Yeah. It is nice to forget sometimes, to sort of...play at having normal lives. Being like we would have been, without all this. It's funny, we're not just fighting a war anymore...we're planning what the world will look like after we win. It's a thrill. But it's a burden too. And I think...how war makes people hard. Artists, I think, especially. Some of us are made for this. Some of us...had to be made into it, and it meant taking a lot away.

Here's what I think, Archie. I think that we forget -- that maybe we've been made to forget -- that voices, good and bad, can come from everywhere and anywhere. From us, from the Enemy -- but also from the spirits, from the earth and sea, from our own minds and spirits. From puppets. From God." She looks at Archie with different eyes, out of any hierarchies, with nothing in her gaze but empathy. "I think I'd trust your judgment more than, well, almost anyone's. And I think if you think they're not valuable to you anymore, you should set them aside. I know the first time I saw you with them, it was weird, in all the senses of that word," she smiles.

"But I also think if they still mean anything to you, and if what you hear from them is wisdom and not temptation -- and that's why I say I trust you to know the difference -- then I'd say no one should turn off a channel of communication that's still broadcasting good information."

Rob

Archie takes this all in, nodding seriously. Then, out of the blue: "Do you ever think about getting yourself off the, all the, you know, the drugs?" But then he seems to feel he's crossed a line, and he fills the silence before she can answer. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that." (Not clear whether he's referring to what he just said about the puppets or about Jo getting off drugs.) "I, I can't quite shake the feeling that something is... ending? Like this could be the last time that all of us will be together."

He laughs at himself. "Silly."

Leonard

"Hey, hey, chief," Jocasta responds, her voice edged with both kindness and maybe a little desperation. "There's nothing silly about it. I don't think this is the last time we'll be together, but I feel that same sensation these days. This is a big transition for all of us, and maybe it really is the end of something. A chapter. A...way of being. I feel it all the time. I miss shooting the sh...the breeze with Mitch and Roger. I miss Marshall, even. I miss that broken-down old couch at Livermore. And," she adds, her voice breaking a little, "I miss Charley. And I don't think any of us miss her like you do, especially since you're not seeing Melanie and the kids as much. It's completely understandable, feeling this way. That's not Jocasta Menos, with her decorative little psych degree, talking. That's your friend, Jo.

"But...while I don't fully accept or understand Mitch's conception of the Club, I think he's right that there's something special about this configuration. We've been bonded together in a way that won't easily be lost, Archie. And if an end is coming for us...whether it's just an end of this way of being, or the end that waits for us all, then we're all going to face it together. And I don't know how, exactly, but I also think that that end, even, isn't the end. I think you believe that too."

She swirls the last of the Drambuie in the festive green-and-red glassware that Melanie picked out, and swallows it down. "As for the other thing...I think about it, yeah, Archie. I think about it every fucking day. Pardon my French. It's hard on me and I don't know what it's doing to me, to my...my health. It's like, there's a funnel in the top of my skull, and every night, I try to cram the whole universe into it. I worry about the speed more than anything. But...it's also what lets me see things the way I've come to see them. It lets me talk to the spirits. It lets me feel for people so deeply. It's...a gift in a lot of ways. And as long as it keeps being that special gift, it's hard to tell myself not to reach for it. Like a puppet, you know?"

Rob

"Like a puppet," Archie repeats. "Yes, that's fair." He waves Foodini's arms a little, bobbles its head. "And, 'no one should turn off a channel that's broadcasting good information.' But if the intel isn't good, or if the price ever gets too high: well. Things can change, I guess is all I'm saying. We can make changes."

He looks back into the house, seems reluctant to return just yet to the noise and bustle of the party. Then he says, a bit of a non sequitur: "It might just be the holidays. That feeling like something's ending, I mean. That old holiday melancholy."

"That's why that Peanuts Christmas show was such a hit, you know: it's sad! Folks don't want to admit it, sponsors don't want to admit it, but the holidays are sad. They're supposed to be. 'Days of awe and repentance.'"

He snaps his fingers to signal an idea. "Remind me when we get back to L.A.: sadder Christmas shows." And that seems to break the spell, for him at least, of whatever this moment was. He nods his head towards the house, puts on a cheerful grin. "Guess I'd better get back to it."

Michael

As if on cue, just as Jo and Archie head back inside, the next song on the hifi, selected by Andrew, begins:

Rob

(In our current local game, the one about a now grown-up Scooby Gang of former meddling kids returning to their haunted hometown, my friend Bill deployed a beautiful needle drop Monday night: it was a historical flashback to the American Revolution, with General Washington and his men on the run through the snow, starving, freezing to death, and finally deciding to make a deal with Dark Powers for the survival of the republic - and the song on the soundtrack was Darlene Love - Christmas (Baby Please Come Home). Maybe you had to be there, but it was really terrific. The ironic juxtaposition worked so well it made me think it must have been in a movie or something, but if it was I can't think of it.)

Michael

(That is awesome.)

Now that things have gotten a little more merry with the addition of a drop of booze, as Archie and Jo come back inside, Charles and Viv and Sophie have by this point gone into the living room to hang out with Marshall, Mitch, and Mary-Lynn. Andrew, having taken a break from DJ duties for a little bit, is monologuing a tiny bit in the middle of the room; Viv (and maybe Charles a little bit) has a familiar "oh brother" look on his face, as Archie and Jo enter mid-Andrew-theorizing, in a piece of synchronicity with Archie's recognition of Christmas as a "sad" holiday.

"So Christmas, the Yule festival, right? The fires of the hearth at their lowest: Midwinter, the solstice... my opinion is that mythically it's just as spooky a time of year as Halloween, Samhain, what have you. Maybe even more so! We don't so much have this tradition here in the States anymore, but in Britain? The ghost story and the Christmas story are co-equal. M.R. James!" Andrew says triumphantly. "Back me up on this, Ms. Edelstein."

Mmm, it's true, we Brits love a good spook story 'round the holidays. But of course the winters here in California are so much more... forgiving than one at 52 degrees latitude. Eight hours of daylight. They can be grim times," Sophie says, briefly sliding back into her old forbidding and foreboding mien.

Jo and Archie both (as well as Marshall) can sense something else is up with Sophie with Empathy/Sensitive. She's distracted; when Jo and Archie came in the front door, Marshall saw her ears perk up; Jo and Archie can see she's a little distracted as she looks to the door to the Ransoms' entry hallway. I would like to give each of you three (Leonard, Rob and Brant) an Empathy roll (Jo and Marshall: 16, Archie: 13) to see if you can puzzle out what has Soph so distracted at the moment.

Brant

>>SUCCESS by 4

Rob

>>SUCCESS by 5

Leonard

>>SUCCESS by 10, CRITICAL SUCCESS

Michael

So after her initial round of hellos and bonhomie, Sophie has seemed distracted. Nothing huge, of course, just little hitches in her body language and eye movements. Nothing that an ordinary observer might pick up on, and made far more complicated for the folks who've known her for years by her new, more outgoing persona built at Granite Peak. But it is there. And it's those infinitesimal looks to the door that give it away. And it's not paranoia or social anxiety, wondering who else is going to show up because everyone is here bar one person. Sophie is quite clearly anxious—or excited, or impatient, some combination of those feelings—for Roger to show up. [Leonard, for Jocasta's crit, I'll send the extra information via DM.]

Leonard

Jocasta waits for a little lull and beckons Sophie to join her over by the hearth for a drink.

Jeff

Mitch continues to make small talk. This doesn't seem like quite the right crowd for spurious Tarot readings but he has the cards in his back pocket.

Michael

Sophie will break off from her being asked to weigh in on British seasonal depression and ghost stories to have a natter with Jocasta. In the meantime, Genevieve sidles up to Mitch. "So. Mitchell. Two questions. First, will you and Mary-Lynn be going up to Druid Heights tonight for Alan's solstice ceremony? Jo said she's a 'maybe' and Charles isn't going to go, so I could use a lift. Plus I know Alan would love to see you again. He's sincerely a changed man after our... intervention."

"Second. I've been hearing rumors about your plans up on Shasta, putting things into place to put together a school... and I would love to offer any help I can on assembling either a curriculum, a staff, or both. I have some very good friends in progressive education that I could bring together. Of course there's no pressure; if the plans you're making need to be more sui generis, I understand that completely. I think it's a genius idea, by the way, the school. What may seem to some like a mere drop in the bucket—working intensively and carefully with small classes of pupils—can have the most outsized eventual holistic impact on... well, everything and everyone!"

Leonard

Across the room, near the crackling fire, Jocasta — who is visibly tipsy by now — looks at Sophie with what she hopes is a serious look.

"Sophie. You have to know by now that I have...that I really respect you. And I want you to be happy. Maybe that's a foolish wish for any of us in this, this outfit. On top of that, goodness knows I know how ugly it can get to fratermine, to, uh, frater...to mix work and personal life in this job. I am in no position to give anyone advice about anything in that arena. I got, I got stories. No happy endings. Maybe it's a genre that's better off without me. But also I trust you, and...people want to be free."

She stops looking at Sophie for a strange second, seeming to look through her to the stone and the fire and to some moment in the future, or from another world. "People want to be free," she repeats quietly.

Trying to claw through her Drambuie haze, she unfolds something she had in her back pocket. It's her last gift of the night. "I got this for Roger. He's not here. I don't know where he is. Probably off doing something decent. He's the best of us, you know? In a lot of ways. He has a vision of right and wrong, of what's real, that I think none of us can approach. Anyway. This was supposed to be for him but the more I think about it, I think maybe it should be a gift for you. Or the two of you."

She hands Sophie a colorful printed program, with two tickets tucked inside it. "Should be fun. Sorry it'll be so loud. See if you can find somebody to go with you." She gives Sophie a tired, sloppy, warm embrace.

Jeff

Does Mitch know what Viv is talking about? Has Mitch been invited to Alan's thing? But as to her second topic, Mitch is a little diffident; he's never tried to start a school before and on the one hand welcomes input such that he doesn't make any rookie mistakes like forgetting to install bathrooms or anything, but on the other hand he wants to take a sort of minimalist zen approach to structure, so as to enable synchronicity as much as possible.

Michael

I think this is probably the first formal invitation to Alan's and Terence's solstice/comet-viewing party that Mitch (and Mary-Lynn) had received; I had envisioned Genevieve as the sort of messenger for the invites being extended at the URIEL party. I'm sure Viv can sense Mitch's diffidence on the second offer, and she'll probably just leave it with a statement of, "If you do need advice while you're working on the school, my line is always open, just give me a ring, okay?"

Jeff

"Heck, I'm sure whoever you choose to recommend will turn out to be just the person we need."

Michael

Pivoting off of Jocasta's critical Empathy roll (and the resultant bonus to Jo's Detect Lies), Jo's able to witness and interpret several emotions playing across Sophie's face in response to this gambit: the initial, very brief shock that somehow Jocasta knows; then the relief of Jo having managed to take her aside, away from everyone else to keep all of this candid, even in Jo's intoxicated state; then recognition that Jo is trying to slip her a "ringer" in terms of a way to contrive to go on a date with Roger; and then, quite plain sadness at what Jo said about her own life, as she realizes that Jo probably wanted to go with Roger to the speedway.

The new Sophie is more prominent emotionally now, all that distant, thoughtful weirdness about the sadness of the depths of winter gone. "Hmm," Sophie says, looking at program and tickets. "You know, I have this new life now," Sophie says, looking Jocasta right in the eyes. "I thought I could do some things differently. And then we—URIEL I mean—end up suddenly becoming bigger, with more responsibilities, and suddenly everyone is getting ready to go off to all corners of the state. If you had asked me before... before my time away, if I would have liked to have Livermore all to myself, just me and the books and the terminals... oh, gosh, I would have loved that." Sophie smiles creakily. "But now, knowing I'm going to be on my own is... well, it's so hard to take, somehow. Another irony of this job, and my life."

Realizing she's talking around the root of the issue here, Sophie puts aside all circumlocution finally, looking at the program again. "Jo, I really don't think it could ever work with him and me. I wonder if it's just me throwing myself at some sort of... vague attachment I have, to how kind he was to me when I was getting ready to go away back in July, when I thought I might never come back. I may be blowing it out of all proportion. And you and he have... you have so much more in common, I'm realizing." Sophie sips at her cider; her voice was becoming husky and raspy. "Don't ever think you're not worthy of it, Jocasta. Worthy of happiness, companionship... love. The fact you'd offer something like this to me, to make such a sacrifice," she pushes the program and tickets back into Jo's hand, "well, it makes me think you're the righteous woman in front of King Solomon, willing to give up the chance at love and happiness to someone else. And so you deserve it." Another deep, soulful look into Jocasta's eyes; Jo can't help but sense how different Sophie sounds and feels now, but in an odd way this emotional intelligence and complexity still feels very much her, like it was somewhere inside Sophie all along.

Bill

Very late in the evening, a disgruntled Roger rings the doorbell at the front porch. He has two poinsettias in his arms, one heavily crushed, and he's looking over his shoulder as Melanie opens the door. He turns back, he takes a second trying to smile. "¡Felices Fiestas!, Melanie. I am so sorry to be so late." He turns around and waves to a police officer watching the door from a cruiser parked in front. "Would you do me a favor, and wave to the kind officer who gave me an escort to your door, after a brief misunderstanding?" Once Melanie gives a small wave to the cop, Roger relaxes a little, and finally honestly smiles. "These are for you, beautiful hostess. I apologize for the state of them, and for the fact that I'm going to have to turn right back around and leave you for a bit. But I necessarily left some things in my car, because of a slight misunderstanding. I'll be back in five minutes. If I'm not, well, know that I'm trying to get back as quickly as I can. And maybe mention to Jocasta that a call from Padden and Hall might be needed?" Roger nods, turns and walks slowly off the porch and down the street. The cruiser starts up, and follows him. (edited)

About six minutes later, Roger is back at the door, a larger box filled with poinsettias and some bottles at his feet. As Melanie opens the door again, she sees the cruiser taking off. Roger is more smiles now as he lifts the box. "Could you help me with the doors? I hope I can save the rest of these flores de Nochebuena. Maybe a little water in the kitchen?" (edited)

Michael

Melanie, upon realizing a similar deal happened the last time Roger was over here to visit during daylight hours, sees what's happened and her face crumples. "Oh... oh, of course, Roger, I'll take the best care of them I can," taking the poinsettias to the kitchen (and finding a high shelf for them that the cats can't get to).

Roger can feel the white guilt pouring off of Melanie for yet another hassle from the SFPD; but with the entire (white) city on edge thanks to the racially motivated killings (including two just last night in Portola and the Panhandle and city elderly commissioner Art Agnos last week in Potrero Hill) that have been going on since October and intensifying in the past couple of weeks, Melanie supposes on some level internally... "well, they 'had' to do it." Melanie gulps and sighs and makes sure Roger is comfortable before he heads into the living room to greet the rest of his co-workers.

Roger, for his trouble, has now gotten his FBI ID checked by the Man and has received in exchange a fancy little "check card" that shows as a law enforcement officer, he's been cleared from being a suspect despite being a Negro between 20 to 30 years of age in a white neighborhood.

(They weren't called the Zebra murders quite yet; that wouldn't happen until January when the task force was assembled.)

Bill

“Don’t worry about it. I think of it as a lesson for the season: God wants us to remember the lowly, like his Son was born.”

Roger gives a slightly different summary once he’s in with the Club, drink in hand. “My tradecraft is slipping. I should have assessed the ground, put the right pose together from the start. All this travel back and forth— I’ve definitely bit off a lot more than I can chew. And ¡ayiee! Mi familia. Crashing at my cousin’s in East L.A. is even more distracting. All the little favor exchanges. Helping with his parade float. Going on these terrible double-dates. I feel split four ways, like I’m being pulled apart by horses.” He stops and catches himself. “And all the complaining! I can’t stop myself.” He does.