Around him was the collection of Mr Nathaniel T Bliss. The cabinet of curiosities his wealth had, and continued to accumulate, according to his, sometimes fickle, sense of beauty. His representatives scoured the country, buying and selling, and then sending their best purchases to be assessed by the curator of the cabinet - Jackson Taylor. He then presented the most desirable of these, for the approval of Mr Nathaniel T Bliss. There were clearly defined guidelines for him to follow. When first employed, he carried the typed list in his journal, but after five years, they were as familiar to him as the names of his children.
1 Age. Nothing made within the last 30 years
2 Condition. Wear through use is permitted, but not careless damage or unsustainable deterioration. IE: damp/insect infestation/fading/decomposition.
3 Beauty. The artifact must catch the eye and hold it.
4 Size. Is immaterial, though objects for transport IE: boats/automobiles/motorcycles must be scrutinised by Mr Casey Vernon.
5 Price. Immaterial
6 Upon receipt of an unknown object, research can be undertaken, by request, at the Museum of Anthropology. Contact Mr John Lambourne.
7 The first duty of a man is to think for himself
Initially number seven had proved something of a confusion for Jackson. Surely every man thought for himself? How can it be considered a duty? And slowly, under the probing and constant questioning of Nathaniel T Bliss, he began to double check his facts, started to doubt his decision making, and found himself gazing at number seven for reassurance.
Jackson smoothed down his hair and straightened the buttons on his vest. He was standing attentively beside the table, in the entrance to the museum with its totem poles, and Eskimo clothing, its statues, and purses, and weapons, and shells, and just abut anything The Representatives of Mr Nathaniel T Bliss could reap a commission on, should it gain entry into the collection.
Jackson heard footsteps. Towards him marched Nathaniel T Bliss, with Mrs Bliss on his arm. She walked gracefully, wearing a grey twin set and white pants. He was tall, had recently shaved off his beard and moustache, so the skin at the edges of his face were strangely pale. He had quick eyes and the curt manner of a man of success.
"Jackson." He called all his employees by their first name, but it was no gesture of affection. His wife Barbara, how she wish she could have held her maiden name, nodded in response to Jackson's welcome.
"What have we this month?"
"A comb sir tortoise shell, nicely decorated."
Good, good." Nathaniel T Bliss, picked up each object as it was described, and passed it over to his wife.
"A game, sir, played with stones on a wooden board, using these carved holes. We believe it had rules something like chequers."
"More research needed before it goes on display."
"Yes Sir. This is.."
"Is this a music box?" Barbara opened the mahogany box, and turned the key. The tune echoed around the room. When it finished, Nathaniel T Bliss asked what the tune was, and Jackson had to admit he didn't know.
"It is beautiful." Barbara commented.
"The tune or the box?" Nathaniel asked, turning it in his hands, unconvinced. "Does it have age?" Jackson replied that he was unsure. "It's been repaired at some point." His voice held all the concerns of a man who sees no value in the object before him.
"I thought of all the people who must have owned it. No-one has thrown it away, in fact they've gone to the trouble of restoring it. For them, though it is only a mahogany box, with an unknown tune, it was worth keeping." Jackson explained. Guideline number seven, he would have added, if he had the courage. Nathaniel considering this, he turned the key again, speaking even as the music played.
"You like this tune?" He asked his wife.
"Oh yes, it reminds me of something, I don't know. Maybe it was something we heard on a visit to the theatre dear, it's charming." Nathaniel thought a moment, and then relaid the box on the table.
"More research for that too. Without categorising the tune, this box doesn't mean anything to me. But both you and my wife like it, so there's something I'm not hearing. Who knows maybe it's a lost Beethoven sonata?" He laughed and Jackson smiled indulgently, but hesitatingly.
"The comb, the game, this skin painting, the clock, all the rest I like." He extend his arm to his wife, and she slipped her hand where it belonged, and they turned and left. Jackson surveyed the table. He was glad Mrs Bliss had liked the music box, she'd saved it from 're-assignment'. He waited until he heard the outside door close, and then he turned the key and closed his eyes, the better to enjoy the tranquillity Nathaniel T Bliss had no feeling for.
(For Part One see 'Madigan')
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