Chapter 10: The Sympathetic Curator
Morning.
Golden sunlight streamed through the museum's grand windows, illuminating the vast hall in warm, honeyed tones.
The various specimens and historical figures that had been animated and chaotic just hours ago now stood motionless in their display cases, frozen in their eternal poses.
The trash and debris that had littered the floors were completely cleaned up, leaving the museum spotless.
Almost every floor of the entire building was silent, except for...
"E equals M C squared!"
"Einstein!"
"Correct!"
"YES!"
"Classic movie line: 'In case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night.'"
"Jim Carrey! The Truman Show!"
"Correct!"
Rango smirked triumphantly at Ted, then looked back to M3GAN, who was moderating their trivia game.
"Final question. The greatest basketball player to ever wear number 23..."
"Michael Jordan!!! OH YEAH!"
After nailing the last question, Rango jumped up from his chair, arms spread wide in victory. "All twelve questions correct! I am the trivia KING! You lost, Ted. Hope you're ready to wash my socks for a month!"
"Bullshit!" Ted grumbled, his little paws crossed. "This isn't fair at all. You got easy questions like Jim Carrey and Jordan. I had to answer stuff like 'Who wrote The Great Gatsby?' I'm a teddy bear, not a literature professor!"
"Hey, show some respect, buddy," Rango said with mock seriousness. "F. Scott Fitzgerald was a great American writer!"
"Whatever."
Just as Ted was sulking, M3GAN—who'd been silently observing—suddenly spoke up. "Actually, Rango, you answered the final question incorrectly. According to my comprehensive sports database, the greatest player to wear number 23 is LeBron James."
"What the hell? LeBron?"
Rango shook his head in disbelief. "Absolutely not. Great player? Sure. Greatest number 23? Not even close. The man hasn't won a championship as the clear, undisputed leader of his team!"
"That's right," even Ted, who'd lost the game, agreed emphatically. "He's talented, no question, but greatest? Come on. He's not even better than Kobe!"
"Whoever programmed your sports database was clearly a LeBron stan," Rango said, annoyed. "Way too much personal bias in there."
After M3GAN's controversial ruling, Rango lost interest in playing further. He and Ted launched into an animated debate about whether Kobe or LeBron would win in a hypothetical one-on-one game.
Time passed quickly, and before long, the museum's main entrance revolving door swung open.
Director McPhee, impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit and carrying a polished walking cane, strode in with self-satisfied authority.
"Well, well, well."
He looked around carefully, taking in the pristine condition of the lobby, then called out toward the information desk. "Good morning, gentlemen! I trust you had a restful evening?"
Rango smiled as he stood up from his chair. "You're joking, Director. Ted and I were on duty all night. Didn't doze off once. Barely even took bathroom breaks."
"Let's hope that's true."
McPhee shrugged noncommittally and approached the desk. As he looked Rango over, a hint of satisfaction crept into his expression.
The security uniform that would have hung loosely on most people fit Rango like a second skin, his muscular build evident even through the fabric. The fitted shirt outlined his athletic physique perfectly.
Combined with that ruggedly handsome face, this young man was basically a walking advertisement for the museum itself.
And all for just twenty dollars an hour, without even expensive dental benefits!
McPhee, feeling he'd made an excellent hiring decision, patted Rango's shoulder approvingly, gave Ted a friendly nod, and started toward his office.
However, as he passed by the desk, he stopped abruptly.
His gaze had landed on M3GAN.
"What... is this?" McPhee said with obvious displeasure. "Doesn't our security protocol explicitly state that no unauthorized personnel are allowed inside the museum after closing hours?"
Rango quickly stepped forward with the explanation they'd prepared earlier. "Director, you've misunderstood. This is my little sister. She just came by this morning to bring me breakfast."
"Breakfast?" McPhee frowned skeptically. "Such a young girl, delivering breakfast before dawn?"
"Yes sir. She's always been incredibly responsible that way," Rango said with convincing sincerity.
"Hmm."
McPhee looked at M3GAN, who kept her head down and remained silent. At least she was a child and not some woman, otherwise he'd really have to question what Rango had been doing all night.
As he turned to leave, Rango quickly stepped in front of him. "Uh, Mr. McPhee, there's actually one more thing I need to tell you about."
"If this is about a raise, I advise you to stop talking right now," McPhee said irritably, brandishing his cane.
"Twenty dollars an hour is more than generous! If you don't believe me, go check the market rate—most security positions pay thirteen dollars! And you want a raise after a single night on the job? Don't you think that's rather presumptuous?"
"What?"
Rango raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "No, no. Trust me, I'm completely satisfied with the salary. It's not about that. It's about..."
He raised his finger and pointed to a large pile of debris in the corner—the result of M3GAN's all-night cleanup efforts.
"What in God's name?!"
McPhee's face, which had brightened upon hearing this wasn't about money, immediately darkened with fury. "I hired you to protect the museum! Look what you've done!"
He abandoned his dignified, cane-assisted gait and rushed over to the pile of broken exhibits. Upon seeing the shattered remains of various historical figures, his outrage intensified. "These were handcrafted pieces! Each one worth thousands of dollars! What the hell did you do to them?!"
"I'm truly sorry, Director," Rango said with practiced sincerity. "I was curious about the craftsmanship of these models, so I opened a display case to get a closer look, and then I accidentally..."
He trailed off meaningfully, then straightened his shoulders. "But don't worry. I'll pay for all the damages. Just give me a total. Whatever the cost, I'll cover it completely."
McPhee glared at him, fury evident in every line of his face, about to name an astronomical figure.
However, his gaze drifted past Rango's shoulder to the small girl sitting quietly at the information desk. The harsh words died in his throat.
This poor kid probably spent everything he had on that expensive interview suit. Now he was so broke his little sister had to bring him food before sunrise. If McPhee made him pay for damages on top of everything else...
Wouldn't that push this already struggling family even further into hardship?
McPhee, having constructed an entire tragic backstory in his imagination, took a deep breath. Looking at Rango's genuinely apologetic expression, he scowled fiercely, then turned on his heel.
As he walked away, he called back over his shoulder, "Save your money to support your sister's education! I'll write these losses off against the depreciation fund. And get out of here—go home! I don't want to see your face again today!"
His footsteps echoed as he disappeared into his office.
Rango, who'd been ready to pull out his checkbook, stood there scratching his head in confusion.
Why does everyone keep assuming I'm broke?
He shrugged at Ted and M3GAN. "Well, that worked out better than expected."
"The Director demonstrated unexpected compassion," M3GAN observed. "Based on my analysis of his body language and vocal patterns, he constructed a sympathetic narrative about your financial situation that overrode his initial anger."
"In other words," Ted translated, "he thinks you're poor, so he felt bad."
"I have several million dollars in the bank," Rango said, unbuttoning his collar and stretching. "But sure, I'm definitely struggling."
"Perception management can be advantageous," M3GAN noted. "I recommend maintaining this misconception."
"Noted." Rango grabbed his jacket. "Alright, let's get out of here. Time to go home!"
A few minutes later, standing outside the museum in the bright morning sunlight, Rango couldn't help but smile.
His first night on the job had been... eventful. Chaotic, sure. Expensive in terms of broken exhibits, probably. But he'd gained valuable information about the Tablet of Ahkmenrah, charged his system to 100%, and summoned M3GAN.
All in all, a productive evening.
"So what's the plan now?" Ted asked, climbing into the passenger seat of Rango's car.
"Now?" Rango started the engine and grinned. "Now we go check out that haunted house I bought yesterday. See what kind of supernatural energy we're working with."
"Of course," Ted said flatly. "Because a normal person would go home and sleep after working all night. But not you. You're going ghost hunting."
"Where's your sense of adventure?"
"I left it back in Africa, along with my will to live."
M3GAN, seated primly in the back, tilted her head. "Based on historical records, the property you purchased has been the site of seventeen documented deaths, thirty-two disappearances, and at least one confirmed demonic manifestation. I calculate a 73% probability of hostile supernatural entities."
"See?" Rango said cheerfully, pulling into traffic. "Should be fun!"
"Your definition of 'fun' is deeply concerning," Ted muttered.
As they drove through the morning streets of New York, heading toward Long Island and the Murder House, Rango felt a surge of anticipation.
His system was charged. He had new abilities from M3GAN. And somewhere in that Victorian mansion, there was supernatural energy waiting to be absorbed.
Things were finally getting interesting.
"Hey Rango?" Ted asked.
"Yeah?"
"When this inevitably goes wrong and we're being chased by ghosts, I just want you to know—I told you so in advance."
"Noted, buddy. Noted."
M3GAN's synthetic voice came from the backseat. "I have prepared seventeen different exorcism protocols downloaded from various religious and occult databases. Would you like me to brief you on them during the drive?"
"Absolutely not."
"Briefing anyway. Protocol One: Catholic Rite of Exorcism, requires a consecrated priest and..."
Rango turned up the radio, drowning out M3GAN's lecture with classic rock.
Ted laughed. "She's fitting in already."
"Shut up, Ted."
"Make me, pretty boy."
Despite the banter, Rango couldn't stop smiling.
His strange little family was growing.
And the adventure was just beginning.
[Reader Support Milestones]
500 Power Stones → +1 Chapter
10 Reviews → +1 Chapter
Enjoyed the read? Leave a review.
10+ advanced chapters on P1treon Soulforger