The Painting

Posted on Sun Mar 29th, 2020 @ 1:56pm by Lieutenant JG Matthew Plumeri

2,567 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Episode 106 – Stalemate
Location: USS Endeavour-Deck 17 - Berth 1710
Timeline: MD02 - Very late

[ON:]

USS Endeavour-Deck 17 – Berth 1710

It was late when Matthew got back to his empty quarters. His crewmates were either out, on duty or had other lodgings for the night on Starbase 23. Matt called out, “Hello?” There was no reply. The rooms were empty. Matthew came from the ship’s gym and his green t-shirt, the one from the Starfleet Engineering was wet with perspiration. You know the one? The t-shirt with an image of a Defiant-class ship, phasers red and photons firing that read,

“NX Engineering Project – Peace through Strength”

There was no one to greet him here. “Lights” he said, and some came up. The room illuminated with a warm light. He stepped inside and the door closed behind him. He set his gym bag on the table and stripped off his t-shirt. He dropped it to the floor, and it joined two others already there. He kicked off his gym shoes to his bare feet and got himself a drink from the replicator. Taking a long drink and putting the cool glass to his forehead he went over to the window and looked out. The Endeavour was moored at the docking port. Matt has a view of the internal bay and the worker bee pods that scurried about. He missed seeing the stars. He closed his eyes and set his hands against the transparent aluminum window. It was cool to the touch and perfectly smooth. He wanted, more than anything, to be touched right now. To be greeted with a hug and a kiss. He longed for it. He imagined his girlfriend greeting him now. The hairs on his arms stood up and he got gooseflesh as he thought about her. How she would often silently pad out of the bedroom when he worked late and join him at the viewport back on Galileo. It seemed like such a long time ago now. She would smile, such a lovely smile, happy to see him and come up from behind and encircling her arms around him she would hug him. How he loved that silent communication; together they would be like that for a few minutes. He would caress her arm and eventually intertwine his fingers in hers. How that very simple touch calmed him and reduced the stress of the day.

But it was a fantasy now. And he sighed with a heavy heart.

He took his hand off the viewport and went over to the couch. Feeling the carpet beneath his bare feet felt good too. Somehow relaxing. He emptied the glass finishing the cold water and set the glass on the coffee table. Off came the gym shorts, down to his boxer shorts and they landed in a pile on the floor. Lying back on the couch he covered his eyes with the crook of his arm and let out a long sigh. It was fifteen maybe twenty minutes before he moved again. Sitting up and yawning, he checked messages and seeing none headed for a shower.

It did him a world of good too. In a fresh white t-shirt and red knee-length shorts he came back into the living room. He ate a sandwich for dinner and drank a protein shake before sitting back down on the couch.
He felt so profoundly lonely. He watched a few minutes of the hoverbike races on Titan. Maybe next year he would apply for and take part in the annual “King of Hammers” race on Saturn’s moon Titan. He checked the teams he liked that played Paressis Squares and then watched a few minutes of Zero-G hoverball. But he couldn’t escape the feelings of isolation and disconnection.
Back on Fontalis, isolation and social disconnection were used as extreme punishments for crimes. Fontalan prisoners had sometimes died from being “cut out” of society and connection with other people. Like Humans, Fontalans were “wired” for social connection. It was Matthew’s Human genes that were helping him cope with the isolation he felt aboard the Endeavour right now. He switched off the monitor and told himself to give it time. His first day of duty would be tomorrow and then work would occupy his time. Even so, it still hurt, physically, his heart felt heavy. He sighed and sat back down on the couch. He wasn’t tired yet anyway.

Picking up an oversized book from the coffee table he read the title in Fontalan, “I Grandi Artisti della serie Fontalis: La terza era - Gli inizi dell'impero” on the cover was the Imperial Palace at Serse. He opened it to the bookmark and looked at the paintings in the Art history book. It was something to pass the time while he waited to get tired. He stretched out his legs and put his feet up onto the edge of the coffee table and skootched over to a corner of the couch where it was more comfortable.

When he was younger, he loved going to the “art palace” as his dad would call it. And it really was that. It really was a former Prince’s palace that was donated to the Fontalan people and now housed the massive art museum at the capitol, the city of Serse. He remembered seeing some of these works of art as a kid. They were always fond memories. His dad would say to him, “Get to know these paintings as you would a person. Visit them often. Learn from them.” He could hear his father’s voice. He could remember his dad lifting him onto his shoulders for a better view and having Matt sit there as they walked about.

He turned a page and there it was! One of his favorite paintings! He has so forgotten it too. Matthew sat up a little bit on the couch.

“Pastorale Northern Coast with Sylvan White Deer” by Silesius Amthorini - Third Era – circa 3015-3056

He looked at it and he was transported back in his memory to his home world of Fontalis. Years ago, when he was just a wee kid. His family was there, mom, dad, brother and sister and him; Matt was the youngest. He remembered that they were meeting his mother there. A concert was being given at one of the exhibits and his mother and the other musicians were performing there. They walked into the large gallery and there was a crowd of people already here. The music had already started.

The Federation had sent a group of Human (Terran) musicians from Earth to Fontalis on a kind of cultural exchange mission. These were the people that were just finishing their recital. His father found their mother and the drew close to her. His father kissed her. She was watching a man play the large, black, full-sized concert piano that had traveled all the way from Earth. Everyone was quiet and listened as the man started to play the most amazing and wonderful thing that many had ever heard. Yaniris, Matthew’s mother, drew Matt into her arms and pulled him close and set him on her lap so he could see.

As Matt sat there he thought it was the most magical thing he had ever heard. It was so delicate, so fragile, so beautiful he was spellbound. It was like someone was weaving a tapestry with music! Years later, he would discover that the music he heard that day was from the Earth composer Johann Sebastian Bach. And that music, played so lovingly and tenderly was from a composition, “Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" from Cantata No. 147. It must have been the pairing of the music and the paintings in the gallery, because Matt was instantly transported back to this memory now. The other Terran musicians watched and listened quietly. The whole room held its breath. What was for them “just” another piece of music; was magic for everyone else in the large gallery. The music filled the packed, large art gallery like the light from a candle that grows and grows, illuminating both hearts and minds. And now, sitting in his shorts and a t-shirt years later onboard a starship he was again that little boy, caught in an ecstasy of wonder and loving amazement. The music filled the room with a kind of transcendent awe. Many Fontalans had never heard a ‘piano’ and they were amazed by it. To make any sound at all would detract from the music. It hung there in the air and blessed everyone who could hear it. Each touch of the key sounded forth and filled the gallery with spellbinding sound.

Matthew allowed his eyes to wander into the gallery and as he listened, he fell in love with the sound. The music led him to this painting. It was one of the larger ones that hung on the wall directly ahead of him at the other wall facing them. It was enshrined in an ornate frame. Carved in Fontalan black redwood were figures that hovered all around the edges of the painting. Looking towards the painting and inviting the viewer in too. It was bathed in the brilliant light of the Fontalan suns. It was a landscape. Somewhere on the Northern shores far away from the bustle of the capitol. The northern provinces were filled with mountains and streams, immense solitudes of the wilderness. Places of magic and wonder, a place the refreshed the spirit and freshened the world into smiles.

It was along the coast, a dim tower; ancient sentinel it was. From long ago, from time immemorial it had stood watch on these shores. A green forest was the tower’s only company now. The waves lapped the shore here. The fury of the sea did not rage here. With bowing waves before such grandeur was enough. The painting was of sunset on this shore. The Fontalan suns hung low in the horizon and would soon hide behind the mountains and out of view. The three moons and evening stars, those bright angels of the night, too numerous to count were coming out as the suns laid down their regal crowns for another day. The yellow and orange of the sunlight glimmered on the lapping waters of the sea. The fog and mists from the forest green slowly ebbed and flowed towards the cooling shore. Cooling and slow, they drifted in misty fashion to the shore. The dim tower covered in moss and vines as thick as your leg seemed to grow darker by the minute if you let your imagination free. Soon, it would be treated to the canopy of stars. The great company of the stars at night as her nocturnal cloak blanketed over the world.

In his mind’s eye, he remembered so clearly seeing - - there! Can you see them?! Look now! Just coming out of the forest were the strange and oh so rare silver-white deer. Now a protected species, these animals were as rare as Unicorns! Incredibly delicate and still beholding a majesty all their own. Here, in this painting, they made an appearance. They came out of the green forest heading towards the cool, still waters that flowed from the mountains to the sea. Here, they came, by the still waters and then, fled like ghosts before the day. It was as if the painter had captured a scene with all the brilliance and vividness of a photograph.

How can one say what it is about this work of art that speaks to the soul? For every person it is different. And for many this painting was not their favorite. But, for Matthew, for the eyes of a child in his mother’s lap, hearing such a music as this from a people so far away in distance, yet so close to his heart made the moment stick with him. Yanni squeezed him tight as the man playing the piano played the final notes. Everyone held their breath as the sound evaporated. The echo died away and Matt’s hair stood on end and his flesh tuned to goose bumps. It was an electric moment and he was sure that he would find Humans an incredible and marvelous kind of people. For if they were capable of such a music as this; they cannot be all that bad.

Someone started clapping and the man at the piano stood up and bowed. They continued clapping and would not stop and the man had to come back four more times.

-=*~*=-


Now, back in his quarters, the memory fresh in his mind, he touched the glossy paper of the book. He traced the frame with his finger and for the first time knew why he liked the painting so much. Because it was a moment in time, fragile and precious, just like the music from Bach. The painting is not haughty, not proud or extravagant. It is rather humble. The waves of the sea, they are not enraged. The mountains they lay their glory aside in this scene. The tower ruin, an ornament to an earlier, ancient age. The silver-white deer, rare and untamed. No longer hunted for game, or pride, or vanity. It is, quite simply, the natural world simply being present. Quiet. Calm. Loved. At least, for Matthew, it was that.

Tomorrow, would be better. Tomorrow would be a better day he told himself. Laying back on the couch, feeling terribly alone, he closed his eyes.

“Computer? Play for me the chorale from Bach’s cantata #147, “Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring"? I’d like to hear a piano version please? Computer, do you have any version played by Alon Gold from when he visited Fontalis?”

=A= Affirmative. There is one recording available. Recorded during the Federation Artistic Mission to Fontalis at Il Palazzo delle Belle Arti in Serse on stardate 50668.3. =A=

“Play it” he said. Hoping that, by some miracle, this was the recording he longed to hear.

The audio started and from the first tender notes he knew that this was the recording. “This is the one” he said. “Thank you, Possiamo!” he said. Closing his eyes, holding the book open, he allowed himself this moment to once again be wrapped and suspended in such a sound. It was like a visit from an old friend. It was warm and loving and he didn’t feel so alone surrounded by the music and the book in his lap. He imagined himself on those northern shores and near that tower. He imagined meeting friends there. He pictured, in his mind’s eye, getting close enough to touch the silver-white deer. To dip his hand in the cool water. To breathe in the cool air and relish the fading suns as they kissed his face. And he didn’t feel so lonely. His tenor voice, singing softly the cantus firmus of the chorale he could finally relax. And his thoughts eventually quieted, in time, in quiet appreciation and he fell asleep as the music played.

His hands still holding the art history book held open the page of the painting he loved, there, written in Fontalan script was written:

“Pastorale Northern Coast with Sylvan White Deer” by Silesius Amthorini - Third Era – circa 3015-3056



[OFF:]

LTJG. Matthew Plumeri
Science Officer/Historian
USS Endeavour
NCC-72802

 

RSS Feed