Picking the winner of last week’s Blog for an Invisible Bunny was pretty hard. Glenn’s news story about the bailout of Unicorn Industries was a particular favorite, but in the end we had to go with J.M. McDermott‘s sad comment:
I’m going to be sad all weekend because I don’t have a Hobbes. Thanks for ruining my weekend, Fantasy Magazine.
All we can say to that is, “You’re welcome!” and proffer a hope that your winnings will assuage the pangs of your un-Hobbesed existence.
This week, ideas were sparked by the title of this week’s story, Sergey Gerasimov’s The Most Dangerous Profession, got us thinking about fantasy professions. What are the dangerous but alluring professions you’ve seen in fantasy literature – dragon tamer? witch hunter? ghostbuster? What are your thoughts on such matters as hazard pay or vacations? If you could write your own fantasy job description, what would it involve? As always, the comment that is deemed the most entertaining, amusing, or (as evidenced by last week’s winner), the most pathetic. (Just kidding, really.)
I love odd work in fantasy. I love it when people have work that’s outside of the “I’m a Farmer. Now I’m on a quest” milieu. I mean, I know a lot of people need to be farmers, but none of the ‘boy’s destined to be kings’ are even geeks about farming, they just have a hoe and seed montage before the action starts. Farming is specific work with lots of finesse and knowledge.
One of my favorite jobs in a fantasy book was the collectivist builders of the railroad in the “Iron Council” by China Mieville. See, they don’t have enough rails, so people are continually pulling up the tracks behind them, in order to lay the ones in front, and there is a huge amount of effort and labor put into this. It makes it so you have a train that can go wherever it wants. It becomes this amazing metaphor for how much effort social change struggles take, and how that struggle can create something very different.
And, being a China Mieville book, he goes into an incredibly deep and repetitive amount of detail on this process, in an almost hypnotic way, and you can really see it and feel the sweat and strain of keeping the whole thing moving.
I think if I had a fantasy job, I’d want to be there with all the sisters on the railroad.
Ugh, if I had my head on straight I would be choosing the bonbon tester for the Princess, or the attractive young fencing tutor that sweeps the pretty young things off their feet, right? But somehow, the railroad beckons…
As jobs go, I must say that dragon detailing leaves a lot to be desired. The hours are long and the pay is short; and, to be completely honest, there is a social stigma attached to the vocation. I hear about it every time I call home.
“I can’t believe we spent a small fortune putting you through Alpha Centauri University,” my mother always says. “If you were going to wash dragons for a living, you could have dropped out of high school.”
I suppose she has a point, but it wasn’t exactly a career choice. I just sort of stumbled into it. I was always a drifter at heart. When I finished school, I bought a cheap scooter and headed for the next star. It was a nice life. You drift for a few months, take in the sights and meet new people. When the money runs out you stop and find a job. You save a bit of travel cash and fire up the scooter.
I learned early-on that dragon washing was uniquely suited for a man with my disposition. When I hit a new planet, I stop the first dragon I see and ask him where he gets washed. Dragons get dirty and no one wants to wash them. If you’re willing to, you can always find a job; presuming the planet has dragons. If it doesn’t it would hardly be worth visiting.
It only took a year or so to hone my skills and move from dragon washing to dragon detailing. I was amazed at how good the tips are; and that’s always tax-free income. Of course, it is a more dangerous job. Can you imagine polishing dragon teeth? The chemicals irritate their nostrils and accidents will happen. I’ve spent half my life growing back eyebrows.
I gave up drifting a decade ago: getting too damned old to be zipping around the galaxy on a Harley Astroglide. I still detail dragons, though. People tell me that I could do better and I suppose that I could. I have a degree. I could get a job doing whatever it is that Liberal Artists do, but I won’t.
I’ll let you in on a secret known only to dragons and those who detail them. The dragons just love it. It’s a bonding experience for both dragon and detailer. They look at you with eyes onyx black and deeper than space, and you know you have made a friend.
I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding the limelight and I’m very good at that, too. I’m certain that my death will thrust me straight into it. On the day they lay me to rest, dragons from twenty star systems will gather to mourn my passing. Now that’s a legacy.
I read a fantastic book last year called “Poison Study” by Maria V. Snyder. Yelena (the protagonist) becomes the apprentice food-taster for the Commander, and Valek (her instructor) is a firm believer in the “learning by doing” method. So, with a million and one possible poisons out there…Yelena spends a lot of time vomiting. And passing out. And, I’m assuming, having a nasty aftertaste in her mouth – worse than aspartame, I’m sure (blech). Anyway, cool book, cool characters, and interesting job if you have the GI tract for it!
@ Katherine – I agree that the “farmer becomes king” cliche is overdone to the point of mockery. And you’re right, it’s not even like they’re knowledgeable about it – you would think they would be after doing it their whole lives but they’re always so apathetic…
In the 90′s I got to playing with a Hot Corn Popper toy (a rubber suction cup that would jump when turned inside out). The 77th time I tried it it stayed rightside out, and I was folded into it.
I had only been to one ren-fair previous to that so I did not have the skills necessary to become important in the feudal system in which I found myself. I wound up doing okay mucking out the stables for a Duke, but the Princess took a liking to me and demanded I be the one to look after her Pegasus. So I got to go to the capital, but it was a rough gig. I needed a helmet and a bucket light enough to sprint with. A high altitude drop will spread out, but the low drops hang together and once I saw a Pegaflop knock a bull out cold.
Two months ago I was rinsing out my bucket and it popped inside out and here I am.
I’ll have to think on this one, but I’ll throw up a quick thought on the job I’m pretty well sick of —
Innkeeper.
Someone’s always coming into my place, lurking in shadowy corners, and starting fights with heroic patrons. Do you know how many table’s I’ve had to replace after the hero kicks it up into their oncoming foes? Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of wood flooring? And forget about having any breakable mugs in the place. They last about a week, tops.
And if the heroic types don’t get into a fight in the common room, sure as shite someone’s going to try and attack them in their rooms in the middle of the night, leaving broken doors and slashed up bedding.
And hey, goosedown pillows ain’t cheap. If you want to create a fake body shape in your bed as a decoy for the bad guys to hack all up, use your frikin travel clothes or something, okay? Leave my bedding out of it.
The worse, of course, is all the times the Inn has been set on fire, either due to the struggle, an errant spell, or as a means of trapping and killing some hero on the top floor. I have to travel two kingdoms over just to get fire insurance anymore. All the local agents just laugh at me. And of course I lose a ton of money anyway while rebuilding, and convincing the locals to patron come in for a beer again.
Bottom line folks, I’m just trying to keep a clean inn, serve some decent food, and make a living. So if you are on a quest, or fleeing from the forces of evil, might I recommend Olaf’s Pink Dragon Inn two blocks down?
Top ten rough fantasy professions
Medusa’s hairdresser
The guy who has to shovel the gunk out of the corner of the Cyclops eye
Cerberus’s groomer
Prometheus’s buzzard (Liver again? No onions?)
Janitor at the Wizard school (where’d all my mops and buckets go?)
Baba Yaga’s mailman
The sphinx’s plastic surgeon. (I thought nobody would want that nose again, then I met Mr. Jackson)
Manticore manicure
Orc lingerie buyer
Ogre lifecoach
Hey, orcs need lingerie too! And -someone’s- got to do the buying…
Job Posting:
A Quicker Picker Upper – First Caliber
Job Description:
We are seeking a talented, motivated “destroyer” who has shown solid experience in DWD — dragon waste disposal– to join our corporate team. The ideal candidate will possess fleet of feet and at least three years experience in a QPU, first or second caliber, collecting dragon waste, avoiding spontaneous combustible salvos and the ability to withstand lethal amounts of carbon and flammable gases. The ability to work in Haz Mat situations a must.
Compensation:
* Lodging and food
* Three week vacation during hibernation season
* Family compensation available upon accidental death
Job Posting:
A Quicker Picker Upper – First Caliber
Job Description:
We are seeking a talented, motivated “destoyer” who has shown solid experience in DWD — dragon waste disposal– to join our corporate team. The ideal candidate will possess fleet of feet and at least three years experience in a QPU, first or second caliber, collecting dragon waste, avoiding spontaneous combustible salvos and the ability to withstand lethal amounts of carbon and flammable gases. The ability to work in Haz Mat situations a must.
Compensation:
* Lodging and food
* Three week vacation during hibernation season
* Family compensation available upon accidental death
There are slight differences for the Orcish taste. Traditional lingerie has a varied typology including peignoirs, negligees, and teddies. The Orc varieties include Bulge-binda’s, Can-crusha’s, Lump-squisha’s, and Grislies. Where leather is involved they favor it boiled and preferably with spikes. They avoid sheer as it lends their anatomies a resemblance to wrapped hams gone green.
Conceptually Orc lingerie has a tougher job than human because the Orc’s natural state is turned off. Explaining it to them is troublesome too. Upon learning of the thong you wouldn’t believe where Grag embedded his sandle.
Er, make that sandal.
A sandle is the implement we attached to Grag’s sandal to give us enough leverage to pull it out. (Orcs are notorious clenchers).
If you would like to know about Goblin underwear you should probably contact Jim Hines. If he’s not wearing it he certainly has some in one of the pockets of his jacket.
Everyone knows goblins go commando…
So Jim, that teaches me two things:
1. In point of fact, then the Jig is not up, but in fact of point the Jig is down.
2. I know why he gave Golaka’s spoon back, he had nowhere to keep his rod of creation.
(Sorry if this post is too blue, but we are talking goblins here.)