The Nomarque Mint

[Taxhavn]

Mr. Disabod Bane, Master of Merchantry for the Nomarque Mint, implores you to read the OP in full before commenting or requesting an audience at Barrister Row. We cannot possibly be held responisble for the amount of scorn he may pour on your flagrant preposter if you make the mistake of attending our premises ill-prepared.


What do you give the man, woman, or person of indeterminate gender who has everything? The gender-irrelevant child who is outrageously spoiled rotten? The anthropomorphic creature in your life who wants for nothing?

Therein lies the clue: give them Nothing^TM.

Working with our colleagues at the Enness-Asyluumanic Regional Aerospace & Cosmological Hub for Exploration, we import harvested pure vacuum from the very outer limit of the exosphere around 9,880 kilometres straight up from Taxhavn. This is the Essence of Nothing: and we encase it our finest precious Adamant sphere right here at our famous mint in Barrister Row.


The Nomarque Mint of Barrister Row, St. Bernadine, Taxhavn has produced the rarest and finest precious objects for over five hundred years, with the great and the good numbered as our loyal clients (well, more great than good, considering the budget required to become a client to the Nomarque Mint). Our name is a byword for quality beyond measure and social status beyond stellar. Royal families, sainted icons, insane despots, beauties incomparable and the shallow spouses of ridiculously overpaid footballers are among our historical clients who have delighted in our products at the expense of their native annual GDPs. Countries have fallen for the want of a Nomarque Diamond Crown; classic novels and multiversally-known films have been born out of the romance of a Normarque Stone; wars have been started and ended using Nomarque treasures. The history of the world is written in the margins of the Nomarque sales ledger.

It has been twenty-three years since the last issue of the Nomarque Mint. And now, at last, we present our finest creation to date: Orbis Vacuume, the latest in a legendary line of Product N^o.1s by the world famous Mint. 134.373924 millilitres of purest hard vacuum encased in a 3mm Adamant shell of 65.4mm diameter and an impossible 103.36% purity; nowhere in the entire multiverse will you find such extraordinary refinement, polished to a near frictionless 0.1255mu.

And, naturally, it is beautiful beyond any useful scale of measurement.

As with any Nomarque Mint product, the new Product N^o.1, Orbis Vacuume, is a serious investment in resources, skill and dedication by the jewellers, metallogists and buffers of Barrister Row. Accordingly, to acquire Orbis Vacuume - made to order on complete transfer of funds - will require a serious investment on your part in an appropriate currency, which Mr. Disabod Bane will be happy to discuss. Of course, if you need to ask the price, as with our standard trading policy, you are not worthy of the product. Again, Mr. Bane will advise.

Allow us to introduce Mr. Disabod Bane, Master of Merchantry, Gentleman of Barrister Row, Most Influential Shopkeeper of Taxhavn, Book-keeper of Nations, and the man you will need to convince of your suitability to enter the famous Register of Approved Clients, reserved for only the most extraordinary people of the multiverse. If there were such a thing as the Illuminati (we seriously advise not making such a reference if you don’t want to get laughed out of Barrister Row) then it would be, by comparison to the Register, the secret meeting of children in the treehouse at the bottom of the garden to discuss Enid Blyton, red and black ants, a quest for buried treasure at the end of the rainbow, and a bold plan to make an orange-skinned wighat the King of The Hill.

Mr. Bane will happily discuss the workings of the Nomarque Mint, the process for application, the expectations of the Mint in terms of proprietry, character, financial liquidity and community standing. He does not approve of letters of application but will expect a meeting of interesting minds. He is awfully discerning. He is tyrannically discerning. He is the gatekeeper of a glittering, bejewelled paradise and it is only through him that one has any hope of reaching the mythical realms of the Register of Approved Applicants. If one is lucky, and Mr. Bane does not instantly disapprove, one might be handed a filligreed envelope, in which is an expensive card of the Mint complete with an embossed marque of Nomarque, dressed with Red Mercury leaf and containing short instructions for the procurement process of Product N^o.1, Orbis Vacuume.

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Only good RP taking account of everything in the OP here will win over Mr. Disabod Bane. How? I’m entirely open to any manner of RP that is creative, funny, and adventurous. Hidden within this OP are lots of clues as to what might and what probably won’t work. Mr. Bane may be withering if he doesn’t approve. Only the brave (not to mention preposterously wealthy and fun to read about) might earn themselves the right to purchase Product N^o.1, Orbis Vacuume.

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Successful applicants to ownership of Product N^o.1, Orbis Vacuume, will be listed here in due course.

[Taxhavn]

[Taxhavn]

[Taxhavn]

[Taxhavn]

[Taxhavn]

[Ximea]

Nomarque Mint
Barrister Row
St. Bernadine
Taxhavn

Two individuals sat within the office of Mr. Disabod Bane. Only one of them was Mr. Disabod Bane. The other was, he hoped, about to walk home with a beautiful, perfect, outlandishly expensive Orbis Vacuume. He was not, but for this single, fleeting moment, he could admire one of them in person; Mr. Disabod Bane kept one in his office to show prospective buyers, because what fun is being exclusive if people don't appreciate what they're being excluded from?

The man, who was most definitely not about to buy the adamant sphere full of vacuum, admired his reflection in its immaculate, polished surface. That is to say, he admired his reflection before perplexing at the reflection of a stately raven that he suddenly noticed behind him, standing on the back of his chair.

The raven, for its part, hopped down from the non-buyer's chair onto Mr. Disabod Bane's desk. Completely unmindful of the minor scandal its very presence caused, it hopped with aplomb to the edge of the desk, opened a drawer with its beak, fished out a small key - a key that, while understated, nonetheless signaled immense wealth and taste - and departed through an open window.

The man who would be customer was taken aback. Was this, he wondered, part of the vetting process? Would his reaction dictate whether he would return home triumphantly, sphere in hand? He opened his mouth to deliver what he hoped would be witty commentary on the situation.

Alas, no one will ever know whether his commentary was really all that witty, because at that moment, the door was unlocked from outside and opened. In stepped a man rather ludicrously costumed in a black Howie coat, with black gloves and boots of Moroccan leather - and most outrageously of all, the mask and hat of a fifteenth-century plague doctor. He carried a lacquered black cane which he did not allow to touch the floor, and he held up one hand.

"No need to stand up," he said, and he half-bowed. "Doktor Wunderbar, alcoholic omnipotent plague doktor of the Scientific Technocracy of Ximea." To emphasize a particular fragment of that introduction, he produced a silver hip flask etched with a biohazard symbol, and offered it first to Mr. Disabod Bane, then to the increasingly uncomfortable man who was beginning to understand that his lot was to leave this office empty-handed.

"You've no doubt guessed why I've come," the Doktor said, pulling up a chair and seating himself. Next to him, the luckless prior aspirant to sphere ownership noted that he had only observed two chairs in the room before that point, and both had hosted derrieres for the past half-hour. "I should like to own a genuine Orbis Vacuume. The existence of such a thing tickles my taste for the whimsical, the outlandish, the audacious, and the absurd." He leaned forward. "Ximea, being a nation of mad scientists, was built at least in part upon those selfsame principles." Leaning back, the Doktor put his silver flask to the underside of his mask's beak and knocked back a swig.

"You are perhaps by now wondering what I have, or what my nation has, to distinguish us from...well..." he cast an apologetic glance to the side, where a sweating man was now feverishly working out a way to excuse himself without casting away his dignity entirely. "If you are wondering, then I've wasted my time, and I should look for a more worthy purveyor of baubles. That said, you are always welcome to request a personal tour of the Meatlands, or of our Procyon Complex for the reanimation of the recent dead - two locations which fill me with particular national pride."

Doktor Wunderbar put away his flask and again leaned forward. "But before you respond, I have two questions for you. First, what is there to satisfy me that your Orbis Vacuume contains genuine natural vacuum, taken from the distant heavens above, and not merely produced with some common industrial pump? Not that I would ever accuse you or the illustrious Nomarque Mint of adulteration, mind you, but provenance and documentation are essential for a discriminating collector." Doktor Wunderbar leaned back, nearly put his feet upon Mr. Disabod Bane's desk, and thought better of it. "And second, have you considered encapsulating even more exotic vacuum, perhaps from the surface of some distant moon? Such an exclusive item would intrigue me greatly."

Yon stately raven returned from the window whence it departed, and it dropped a familiar key into the Doktor's gloved hand. Doktor Wunderbar gently placed the key upon the desk. "I believe this belongs to you, by the way."

[Taxhavn]

I recognise this is a significant gravedig (in temporal terms) but I appeal to mods to show forebearance; in my defence I am the author of the OP and this post is in response to a still-active nation, Ximea. I hope also you agree that the following post is in keeping with the theme of the thread and consistent with Ximea’s post. My intention here is to bring this idea back to life as the first step in Taxhavn’s participation in GE&T.

Pre-emptive message to Dexterra - see above!

There was a long pause.

Disabod Bane finally returned to lucidity at the chiming of the shop door bell as the previous customer, a chubby orange-looking fellow with wild hair and a sheepish upside-down mouth slunk out of the Mint empty-handed, having abandoned his dream of being one of the true multiversal elites and hailing a taxi back to Blackacre (probably reflecting bitterly that he may as well keep spending his money on golfballs, golden elevators, cheeseburgers and Moltovean escorts. At least she respected him. If he paid her enough. He had the money and it didn’t seem to be good enough for the perverts and dunderheads of Barrister Row, so why not?)

“I’m terribly sorry, Doktor Wunderbar,” said Disabod, somewhat obsequiously, “just for a moment there I was completely in another world. Now where were we? Ah yes - providence. Did we really harvest the vacuum in the exosphere? Firstly, of course, you have my word for it. Now, had this been anyone else but your highly distinguished self - for example that strange orange man with the tiny hands - I should have the doorbell ringing with your removal for wanting anything more of me. But the cost of doing business with the very elite of elites like yourself is of course the hard work we must do to earn your entirely discerning discernment. So let me add some further reassurances, if I may.

“Product No.1, like all Nomarque issues, comes with our unimpeachable Bond of Guarantee printed in our own 98.7% alloy standard platinum leaf on gold-infused parchment harvested from the last Ginko tree of the Great Dàguó Deforestation Tragedy, sealed with the stamp of Nomarque on a wax emboss, imported from noble Sakura where it was boiled out of the belly of Mœbius Duck, the famous giant sperm quail, gods rest his rendered beak… never will we see the like again, what with the Sakuranese having hunted them to extinction… Further I should point out the wax is of course coloured by the blood of a horribly executed dictator, recently overthrown. A further certificate supplies full identity and DNA analysis for said dictator - poor chaps, those dictators, always ends badly I think, wouldn’t you agree Doktor?

“Finally we also provide, on a diamond encrusted USB stick, a 16K ultrasupra high resolution video selfie from cosmonaut Stan Lightweek as he steps out of his Tesla Milkfloat at 9 kilometres with a vacuum harvesting fishpole to collect the very nothingness in the orb which you will own, subject to clear funds and of course approval of your good character.”

At that very moment the facsimile machine began it’s musical recombobulation with an urgent message for Disabod. Excusing himself, he quietly read out the printed message, only slightly mouthing the incoming message as he passed over the words on the roll of paper.

“And that’s your character reference, Doktor Wunderbar, all perfectly above-board and, as one surely expected, positively glowing. We do find here that the bottom line of one’s current account most recent bank statement is most illuminating. Really very illuminating indeed.

“Now, on the matter of a more… exotic… vacuum in which you express an interest. Naturally here in Barrister Row we like to think that our vacuum directly overhead is the absolute best vacuum one can buy, of course. But if you do have a particular request, given the quality of the reference I have just received and the size of the bottom line, we can arrange to send Stan wherever you think fit, subject to travel expenses. Delivery may be somewhat delayed, but as I am sure you will agree, if it’s worth waiting for, then it’s worth waiting for, what?

“Would you care to proceed with the sale, sir? Stan is out the back right now, I can have him giftwrap Orbis Vacuume of the overhead variety? Or should I send him off to procure something a little more… out of the way?”

[Ximea]

Doktor Wunderbar watched the disgraced ex-customer (and disgraced ex-many things, really) shuffle away. He waited patiently for Mr. Disabod Bane's answer.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Seeds germinated and grew into vibrant flowers turned toward the life-giving sun. Leaves took on the fiery colors of autumn and fell from their trees. Animals birthed and nursed their young. The aged fell to sickness and predation. Snow accumulated in deep, dense banks over dead underbrush, and snow melted, nurturing grasses and mosses with cold, clear streams. Tides continued to shape the coastlines, eroding stone here, depositing sand there, as they had done as long as there had been a sea. Earth continued its eternal path around the sun, as the sun continued its path around the center of the galaxy.

After an interminably long time, Mr. Disabod Bane seemed to snap out of some internal preoccupation. He excused himself and addressed the Doktor's prior questions.

Doktor Wunderbar listened as Mr. Disabod Bane elaborated on the proofs and tokens of authenticity about which he had inquired. He nodded in approval; he had, of course, expected nothing less from the Nomarque Mint. "Satisfactory, most satisfactory," the Doktor exclaimed, punctuating this statement with a sip from his flask. "Indeed I daresay you have even increased the exorbitant rarity and exclusivity of your product. For while supraterrestrial vacuum had been, and remains, what drew me to your office today, certifying it with such irreproducible materials imposes a scarcity on this intangible commodity that even the cosmos themselves did not." He chuckled. "Alas, dictators by contrast seem to grow on trees these days, do they not? But I respect that touch. The blood of a leader overthrown violently might be taken by someone with a particular sort of sentimentality as a warning against hubris and the desire for incomparable wealth and power. Nonchalantly incorporating it into the accompanying documents of a product that proudly and triumphantly exclaims those characteristics of its owner makes a mockery of such warnings; it is an exquisite and delicious irony and a re-affirmation of that very hubris."

Doktor Wunderbar took another swig. "Hubris is very important to me."

Mr. Disabod Bane, having perused the Doktor's character references and pecuniary details, continued. Beneath his mask, Doktor Wunderbar began to grin as Mr. Disabod Bane seemed to offer him the choice of a "standard" Orbis Vacuume, already an item of extraordinary rarity, or a bespoke sample of vacuum from distant and untrodden (figuratively speaking) regions of space.

"Mr. Disabod Bane," Doktor Wunderbar said to Mr. Disabod Bane, "have I given you the impression that I meant to leave today without vacuum to call my own? Tsk, what an embarrassing error on my part. I should like both, if you please - Orbis Vacuume today, and at your convenience, something from beyond Earth's gravitational influence. Ximea can provide you with aeronautical or spaceflight resources if that would in any way expedite the process." The Doktor took one more swig, more to let that hang in the air than to wet his gullet. "And since you asked, perhaps that second object could be giftwrapped? As of now, I don't know where it will come from, so it will after all be a surprise to me."