adifferentlife | Not all research [[Kaine]]

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Not all research [[Kaine]]

The library has turned into a wonderful resource for Sybil. Always an avid reader, she's discovered the books there are the best way to catch up on all that has happened in the years since her own time and the time most people in Darrow are from. Her choices that day aren't all for research, copies of the first two Anne of Green Gables books, A Princess of Mars (which had a rather scandalous cover), and The Primrose Ring. All books of her own time and all for comfort, to help offset the history books she has piled up on a table.

Her true delight was discovering that the library has phonograph records. She looks through the titles recognising so few. Finally she pulls out Gershwin and Billie Holiday almost at random. American composers and an American singer. It suits, she thinks, with all the Americans here.

Content with her finds, she settles back in at the out of the way table she's picked, determined to skim through the 1940s and 1950s before the library shuts.

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I've spent more time in the library the last few days than I ever have before. I'm looking for anything that might give me a clue about this place. I've been piling up a lot of information but the more I have to sort through the better idea I can have of what this place is.

I almost don't notice Sybil until I'm almost on top of her. She's impossible to miss, what with her clothing and her general way of carrying herself but I'm so lost in thought that I didn't notice her until I almost walked right by her.

I would have kept going too except I was so surprised that I called out her name like an idiot.

Had he not said her name Sybil wouldn't have glanced upward, used to the coming and going of the other library patrons. Seeing him though causes her to flush, her cheeks a dark rose even though the sun here has brought some colour to her rather pale skin. The last time she saw him was under a set of rather unusual and improper circumstances, and as much as she might never admit it, she has found herself thinking about his somewhat undressed state in a manner that was entirely unbecoming of a lady.

"Kaine," she squares her shoulders, telling herself that she has faced worse and that her embarrassment would seem silly to him. "You are well?"

It's a reminder of that night, and she rushes for something else to talk of, "the library has records. Thank you. For the phonograph."

"Oh. Ah. I'm glad you liked it," I say.

The phonograph hadn't been easy to find, but once I thought of it I couldn't shake that it would be the perfect way to show my appreciation. If she was getting records here that at least meant she was interested in using it, right? That made me feel better about going with that instead of something like flowers that seemed more traditional.

"I thought, I don't know, it's not as good as modern music players but I figured it would be something... familiar."

She's stood as he spoke, thinking it rude to stay seated if he was standing. Hands folded together to stop from fidgeting, she nods, "it is familiar. We had one much like it at Downton, and I appreciate that. You know that you didn't need to get me a gift? My helping you, I did that because it was the right thing for me to do."

It hasn't come out quite right, she fears. Sybil only wants to ensure there's no expectation with what seems to her a rather lavish gift.

"I know," I say.

I could tell that she was that type of person fairly quickly after first meeting her. She was the sort of person I would never really be like, she was a good person. It made me feel especially bad about putting her in the position that I had.

"Doesn't mean you don't deserve it."

It takes a moment for her to decide, considering him carefully. But, in the end her decision is to go with her instinct and to ignore the many social rules she's learned from her family. Social rules, she is discovering that are as often antiquated and silly as the laws that disallowed the vote for women.

"You are kind," she motions to the other chair at the small table, asking him to join her. "Would you like to see what I've picked?"

I feel like something significant just happened, or at least something that I am completely unaware of. I'm not very good with people to begin with but Sybil confuses me more than most. I'm not sure if it's just her or the time she's from or what but most of the time I don't understand her at all.

"Sure," I say, stepping over to the chair. I feel like I should wait for her to be seated first, that seems like the polite thing to do and I figure for her I can make at least that much effort.

"I'm not real big on music though. I don't know many artists."

"If you don't know many you still know more than I likely do," she says with a smile and a laugh in her voice. These are the things it is easy to tease herself about and so she does, all part of trying to stay in a good humour in the strangest of circumstances.

Sybil sits and slides the two records over. The Gershwin seems to be a collection of songs along with Rhapsody in Blue, and the Billie Holiday album was live at Carnegie Hall. "I remember my mother telling of us Carnegie Hall. They were building it when she moved to London, I would love to see it."

"It's nice."

I'm not really an architecture buff, although I can appreciate a nice building. Maybe, given enough time, that sort of thing will do something for me but I doubt it. Art speaks to your soul and I don't have one.

It makes me wish that Sybil weren't stuck here though, that she could go see the hall for herself. What use is being stuck in the future if you can't see things you couldn't in your own time?

"It's just south of Central Park."

"Is it? I wonder how it compares to Hyde Park. Of course Grandmother would say it could never, but she is awfully set in her ways and I don't believe she thinks many good things come out of America." Her own mother was sometimes excepted from that generalisation, but only sometimes. Such was Violet Crawley's way and her opinions.

"The Gershwins are from New York as well. I've never heard any American composers, not of symphonies."

"It's not that popular of a format these days."

I have no idea what would be the modern equivalent. I don't know much about symphonies but I know it would be in injustice to compare it to a pop song. As much as Sybil might not know about the modern world, I'm equally lost when it comes to her world.

"Movie scores are long, instrumental pieces," I offer. "But don't know how many will be on records."

"I like popular music too," she insists, not wanting to seem a snob who only likes classical, symphonies and perhaps opera (the latter which she'd never had a taste for). "Irving Berlin, Gilbert and Sullivan, some of the songs that were coming out now with the war on were lovely."

"No," I say with a bit of a chuckle. "You don't like popular music. You like classical music."

It's amusing that at one point, those types of things were considered pop, things that perhaps your parents or grandparents disapproved of. By today's standards they were considerably tame.

"But trust me, today's popular music is terrible and... trust me, not something you'd want to listen to."

"Classical music is Mozart and Bach," she insists still, her nose crinkling in disagreement. "It's lovely to dance to, and nice at a concert, but it isn't popular. It isn't the songs people sing."

Though, she imagines he has a point. The music that Sybil loves is classical practically, a bit like herself. "I saw a few albums that I wasn't sure about. I thought I was being adventurous enough with these choices."

"I think you made good choices."

I also know absolutely nothing about music, but I at least recognize the names so I figure that's a good sign. Plus, I imagine she has pretty good taste in general.

"Things that are really good and not just fads stand the test of time."

She's pleased by his assessment, strangely so. The approval of those outside of her family or work never meant much to her, but with so much in flux here perhaps the approval of a friend has risen in importance.

"Do you know I'm reading about the 1950s now. Past the war," who's existence saddens her deeply but she cannot express why to anyone, not and have them understand. "How different it seems it was in Britain and America at the time. So much rebuilding and lost at home."

That sort of change is hard for me to remember. I don't have any "when I was a kid" memories to go by to think about how the world has changed. I know it's not the same as when I was first created, but it seems that I've changed more than the rest of the world.

I can't imagine how jarring the change is for Sybil. You think the world is one way and the next day you find that it's all changed.

"Been making your way through history?" I ask. It seems like a smart thing to do. "What's the best change you've seen?"

"Women having the vote," she says it without hesitation, excited still that it came to England only a year or so after her departure. "The fact that our rights are more established, that we no longer need to depend on our husbands for things."

To think, a decade later and it could have been Mary inheriting Downton. How quickly things changed. "But the fight starts all over again, doesn't it? In America?"

She turns the book to face him, an overview of segregation. She's never thought of this, never so much as met a coloured person though she has caught sight of a few in London. "It seems unfair that anyone should be unable to represent themselves."

"Weird to think that's something you had to fight for."

I'm guessing there's a lot of things I would take for granted that would have seemed hard fought for her. To me, women voting seems like it would be ridiculous not to have. Even in the modern world they have to fight for equality and that's stupid.

"Or we're still fighting for it. Ignorance takes too long to correct."

"I often wondered what would happen after the war. Would society change so much?" She meant her own level of society and her life. "Our classes depended on those willing to serve us and it seems such a waste. Who needs a half-dozen maids in one house? All that empty space and so many wounded and hungry, unable to find work. It's sad."

"Doesn't change too much."

Maybe it's because I'm not from that time or place, but I don't exactly see a lot of differences. Poor people still work for rich people and are treated like shit by them. Not that her family necessarily treated the maids poorly.

"Sure the poor have more rights and opportunities, but if you didn't employ those maids, what would they do for a job?"

"Hmmm," it is a point and something she's argued with both Branson and her sisters. Those arguments never turned out the same way, and rarely had Sybil been on the same side even. "There is no easy answer, is there? I can only think that they shouldn't have to work the hours and live at our whims."

"They shouldn't be considered lesser people for it at least."

Social justice wasn't really something I ever got involved in. You'd think being a clone I'd be very concerned about what my rights were, but I knew better than anyone what I was and what I deserved.

"And just when you think you've got some of the answers figured out, something new comes along that confuses things."

"It is never simple. I think-" she frowns, pursing her lips as she considers what to say, "I think that is what my father tried to impart when we discussed these things. Not that I agree with him all the time, but I start to see some of his points."

It wasn't the easiest of admissions, making her miss her family that much more. She pushes away the history books, done with her reading of real world events for the evening. "Would you-" She pauses again before continuing, wondering what has made her so forward. Loneliness, she thinks, she doesn't want to be apart from the few people she knows quite would. "Would you care to walk me home?"

Sometimes I wonder what Sybil is thinking during those pauses. There's probably some sort of social boundary she's crossing by even talking to me, a Lady talking with just a common person. I don't think she thinks she's superior, but I imagine that social boundaries are hard to cross even when you know they shouldn't be there.

"Sure, not a problem," I say. It's what I do, right? Watch over people and protect them so it's the least I can do for a friend, or someone who is at least friendly to me.

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