Much Obliged (*Secret Society Explanation*)

In which our Hero takes a child grown to a camp that doesn’t exist, to do nothing at all, why do you ask?

I took a little time off on Friday and took my car out for a spin. Put more miles on it in that one trip than in the previous three months I’ve had it. Then again it’s spent most of those three months in the garage so… there’s that.

But I turned on the GPS, finished setting up my phone on the car, cut my finger on a hanger, and headed off to a not specifically secret ceremony by a not particularly private organization. (I can’t help but think of Crowley from Good Omens, An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards).

Coal’s school is covered by Camp #####, where as I’m from Camp ###, and it was fascinating to me to see the divergence in traditions. (Camp ### is around 90, Camp ##### is just a hair over 50, so it’s not like they have had that much time to diverge, I guess it’s just personality.) They’re a little more self-aggrandizing, and a little more pompous. And a lot less organized. And really crappy story tellers. 🙂 They did a presentation to provide a bit of background to the ritual. In poor order, and with curious emphasis (“And he moved to America, still mustached.” Really? Someone thought a particular man’s facial hair was relevant to our society? Because.. no. No it isn’t.)

Coal asked me, as we waited, if the ceremony was really boring. And yeah, it is, at some level. I told her that it very much depends on the person. It can be very significant, or it can be very silly. And you may not know your answer until later. And after, she asked me why I kept laughing through the presentation. “Still mustached,” I explained. Among many many other things.

And then everyone headed to the prepared chamber, because it feels strange to call it a gymnasium when the windows are all blacked out against bystanders, and the floor is covered. But having been here before, I knew what I was looking at, and I’m very much pleased that Coal was okay with me not spoiling any of it by telling her what I noticed.

A nice touch I don’t remember from my own ritual, nor when I attended Happy’s ritual as a presenter, was that we were explicitly made honourary members of Camp ##### for the duration of the ritual. I liked that touch. I liked the recognition that we might have come from other places, but that we were all a part of it.

We were actually invited, us presenters, to join our candidates on the line. And part of me wanted very much to do so. But it was Coal’s moment, not mine, and I’ve already made my obligation. So I took a chair on the sidelines and just watched, and listened. And smiled. I felt like I was in the right place.

At the appropriate moment, I put the iron ring on her finger, and said the words. I didn’t think to shake her hand at the moment, because the ceremony wasn’t done, but then I saw other people doing it and felt badly for shorting my girl. On the other hand, as I was taking my place, I couldn’t help but reach out, and just stroke her shoulder with my finger as I grinned at her.

As seems to happen, many of those kids forgot the instructions at the beginning pointing out that the ring was not the end of the ritual, and were called back to their formations. (Heck, half of them were clearly oblivious to what was right in front of them.)

I found her in the crowd after the ceremony and shook her hand to congratulate her. (And I gave her the pen and she was wonderfully excited). And then I sent her off to get ready for her formal, and I headed home.

One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them,
One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

“Gold is for the mistress — silver for the maid—
Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.”
“Good!” said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of them all.””
— Rudyard Kipling, Cold Iron

*Edit*

Coal is my cousin, who is completing her engineering degree. As a Canadian engineer about to join the work force, she was invited to accept an obligation to a standard of conduct, as a tradition intended to inspire a sense of pride and responsibility. It’s something akin to the Hippocratic oath that some doctors undertake, except that it’s not an oath but an obligation. (Which is a clever bit trick. You can break an oath, but an obligation simply waits like a lonely dog for the day you take interest anew.)

The organization behind the obligation is outside of the school granting the degree. It’s outside the regulatory body that administers licenses. In fact, except for enacting the ritual, it largely does not exist at all.

Ironically, from the Wikipedia page: The Obligation is private, though not necessarily secret. However, it is customary for those who have gone through it to not discuss the details of the Calling with others, even engineers from other countries. The ceremony is open only to candidates or those who have already undergone the ritual.

I am an obligated licensed professional engineer. The obligation part just means that I’ve made the same commitment Coal just did. The licensed professional part entitles me legally to use the title of Engineer in Canada (whereas Coal is legally entitled only to call herself a natural scientist until she gets her license).

Do they rust? Depends. Every camp but mine distributes only stainless steel rings, which don’t. Me, I had the choice, and my tastes run more classic. (The entry is from my archived past, thus, FO. Let me know if you can’t see it, Gentle Reader)

Which does rust, technically. But the patina is black and stable. (Red rust keeps eating the metal as long as it can get oxygen.)

Knowing is half the battle.