Expositated!

I'm not much of a wordsmith when it comes to exposition. I rely on that fly-on-the-wall third-person-limited view, where the story is told by action and dialogue, without a narrator whispering in the reader's ear.

But sometimes you just gotta prep the scene, especially in first chapters where motivation might be a little fuzzy. Damn. I'm pretty sure it's something I'm not very good at. Regardless, here goes.

A back-handed compliment often given to Carmen Benequista by her enemies was that she won the senior-citizen vote on a resemblance to Sophia Loren, if only the actress had been two f-stops more photogenic.

Sour grapes, repeated by the entitled super-rich, their minions and thought-slaves, unions, associations, financial institutions, industrial conglomerates, the Mafia, the cartels and so forth, ad infinitum.

Because Carmen ran her campaign for President of the United States in opposition to those guys, and if she hadn’t hitched her wagon to Jivada’s technocracy after the Disclosure, she might have been found hanging from an improvised noose in a White House laundry room with an unsigned typewritten suicide note pinned to her nightgown.

And that was still a possibility, Anye-technology fighting drone bodyguards be damned.

Waking up from an unsettling dream under the Presidential Suite’s looming twelve-foot ceilings, surrounded by hideous flocked wallpaper and fragile antique furnishings, Carmen did not feel safe, nor at home, nor hopeful.

She gave the tassel end of a lamp chain a good yank, half expecting to see her valet Pascal leaned against the far end of a triple dresser, asleep.

That’s where he was, although not asleep, a size-one maroli labor appliance, gutworm-tech tentacles spilling out of a waist-high egg-shaped grav-lift chassis, a machine/bioform hybrid out of some ancient AjViduri engineering team’s worst nightmares.

He said, “Carmen cried. This one woke.”

She wiggled out from under the duvet cover. “I dreamed about my deceased husband, speaking to me from the between-life.”

Pascal glided across the room. “Is Carmen sad?”

“It’s been a long time, but I still grieve.” She fussed with slippers. “And the experience reminded me how much I hate being a sixty-year-old widow with no prospects of ever finding a partner.”

He followed her to the bathroom, tentacles quivering. “Is Brandon Lopez not an acceptable suitor?”

“He’s fifteen years my junior.”

“The immortal soul is ageless, timeless.”

“His last girlfriend broke up with him.” She sat on the toilet. “He’s such a pretty man, I thought it might be because he’s gay.”

“Louise Karnak wants to start a family. Neither she nor Brandon is in position to quit a job.”

Carmen gave him the eyeball. “You know an awful lot about a man you’ve met twice.”

“The Oma reasoning engine is vigilant.” Pascal backed halfway to a linen closet. “Has he told you who he was in a previous life?”

“I can’t say that’s something he’d share with me. Did he get his picture taken?”

“He heard a rumor.” Pascal drew a circle on checkered tile with the lower bout of his capsule. “Brandon Lopez is the reincarnation of Mayur Upanaya, a Cadre general on old Vidura remembered by history as a man of many fine virtues.”

“You are such a gossip.” Carmen reached for a primary tentacle. “Help me up.”

“This one speaks out of turn, but only when it serves the greater good.” He tugged gently at her wrist. “He would be a loyal friend, a reliable companion, a fierce protector.”

“It’s a bad idea.” Carmen led him back to the sleeping chamber. “As soon as I break the ice, he’ll cry on my shoulder about his failed relationship with Louise, and I still won’t have a boyfriend.”

“The man is forty-five, fully grown, not fragile.” Pascal waited at the side of her bed. “Will Madame sleep?”

Carmen tucked her feet in. “I’ll try. Thank you for keeping me company.”

He wrapped a lesser ungula around her hand. “As always, your devoted servant.”

She smiled at him. “You’re a sweetheart.”

Pascal replied, “This one knows.”

With thanks to author Karen Norrell, who encouraged me to wax eloquent on Carmen's backstory.