undue pressure, or make you feel as if you’ll be judged excessively, but I just wanted to say that I really think working in the field with you is going to be excellent. Very good feeling. Not a scientific assessment of course, can’t put too much stock in feelings. Well, some mediums with a low reality-barrier threshold can. But I’m not one of them, so I can’t. But still, confident. Totally confident.”
“Rrright.” Hannah drags out the word. And that might have thrown her off her stride a little.
Finally I point at Tabitha. “And that’s Tabitha Mulvani, our researcher.”
Tabitha eyeballs Hannah. “New field agent?” she says.
“Yeah,” Hannah and I both say at the same time. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kayla arch an eyebrow.
“So, I’m not going to be a field agent?” she asks.
Kayla’s other eyebrow pops up.
“No,” I say. This isn’t my mess, it’s Felicity’s. And I realize that I should be being more charitable, but… Well, I’m still hungover, goddamn it.
Tabitha fist pumps. “You,” she says to Hannah, “don’t screw up. I want my library and my laptops. You want balls on the line and threats of death. Keep it that way.”
Hannah just gives Tabitha a thumbs up and swings into a seat.
And it’s not as if she could know that it’s the seat I usually take. And I’m not one of those petty idiots who’s going to force the newbie to take a worse seat, but I am overly aware of Kayla’s raised eyebrow following me as I squeeze past Hannah to take a seat between her and Clyde.
There is a protracted moment of silence.
“So,” says Clyde, “I guess this means you’re not the new guy anymore, Arthur.”
I almost double take. “New guy?” I ask him. “I’ve been here a year now.”
“Well, yes.” He nods. “Totally valid point. Time marches on. Waits for no man. Lot of proverbial stuff. Very busy chap, Time. Or chapess. Don’t mean to be sexist. Though the image is Old Father Time. Though he was probably called that by sexists. Though, nice of them to show support for the seniors. Not ageist of them at least. Old Person Time, perhaps. Though that leads to all sorts of pronoun confusion. Anyway, I am now far from the garden path, in the bushes, floundering in cliché, trying to find my way back to pointing out, though, that you were—up until about a minute ago—technically speaking of course, the newest member of MI37. Now you’re not. Now you’re the old hand. Though not as old as Old Person Time, of course. Not that there would be anything wrong with you being that old. Except, well, I mean even the most pro-senior-citizen advocate couldn’t help but acknowledge that being an old man probably would make this job a lot harder. Difficult to perform acts of derring-do when your hip replacement is acting up, I suspect. Can’t speak from experience, but, well, I think you know what I’m saying.”
At least that makes one of us.
Hannah looks at me. “He always talk like that?”
Something defensive flares up in me. “We don’t judge here,” I say. I’m shocked to hear something close to a snap in my voice.
Hannah doesn’t react though. “Wasn’t, mate,” she says. “It’s just, you know, I’ve been hazed before. Though that did seem like a really bloody weird way to do it.”
“Well…” I flounder a bit, unsure of what direction I’m taking the conversation in. My emotions seem to have gone a little rogue of late. “You’ll find a lot of things are weird at MI37,” I say. Which I think confuses me as much as it does Hannah.
I am saved from digging myself out of this particular hole by Felicity’s arrival. She pushes into the cramped conference room, wedges herself in at the head of the table.
“Hello then,” she says, “I trust you’ve all had time to meet Hannah, so down to business. Tabitha, if you’d take us through your findings.”
Tabitha stands. She’s wearing a featureless gray tube of a dress, her neck and upper torso
“Rrright.” Hannah drags out the word. And that might have thrown her off her stride a little.
Finally I point at Tabitha. “And that’s Tabitha Mulvani, our researcher.”
Tabitha eyeballs Hannah. “New field agent?” she says.
“Yeah,” Hannah and I both say at the same time. Out of the corner of my eye I see Kayla arch an eyebrow.
“So, I’m not going to be a field agent?” she asks.
Kayla’s other eyebrow pops up.
“No,” I say. This isn’t my mess, it’s Felicity’s. And I realize that I should be being more charitable, but… Well, I’m still hungover, goddamn it.
Tabitha fist pumps. “You,” she says to Hannah, “don’t screw up. I want my library and my laptops. You want balls on the line and threats of death. Keep it that way.”
Hannah just gives Tabitha a thumbs up and swings into a seat.
And it’s not as if she could know that it’s the seat I usually take. And I’m not one of those petty idiots who’s going to force the newbie to take a worse seat, but I am overly aware of Kayla’s raised eyebrow following me as I squeeze past Hannah to take a seat between her and Clyde.
There is a protracted moment of silence.
“So,” says Clyde, “I guess this means you’re not the new guy anymore, Arthur.”
I almost double take. “New guy?” I ask him. “I’ve been here a year now.”
“Well, yes.” He nods. “Totally valid point. Time marches on. Waits for no man. Lot of proverbial stuff. Very busy chap, Time. Or chapess. Don’t mean to be sexist. Though the image is Old Father Time. Though he was probably called that by sexists. Though, nice of them to show support for the seniors. Not ageist of them at least. Old Person Time, perhaps. Though that leads to all sorts of pronoun confusion. Anyway, I am now far from the garden path, in the bushes, floundering in cliché, trying to find my way back to pointing out, though, that you were—up until about a minute ago—technically speaking of course, the newest member of MI37. Now you’re not. Now you’re the old hand. Though not as old as Old Person Time, of course. Not that there would be anything wrong with you being that old. Except, well, I mean even the most pro-senior-citizen advocate couldn’t help but acknowledge that being an old man probably would make this job a lot harder. Difficult to perform acts of derring-do when your hip replacement is acting up, I suspect. Can’t speak from experience, but, well, I think you know what I’m saying.”
At least that makes one of us.
Hannah looks at me. “He always talk like that?”
Something defensive flares up in me. “We don’t judge here,” I say. I’m shocked to hear something close to a snap in my voice.
Hannah doesn’t react though. “Wasn’t, mate,” she says. “It’s just, you know, I’ve been hazed before. Though that did seem like a really bloody weird way to do it.”
“Well…” I flounder a bit, unsure of what direction I’m taking the conversation in. My emotions seem to have gone a little rogue of late. “You’ll find a lot of things are weird at MI37,” I say. Which I think confuses me as much as it does Hannah.
I am saved from digging myself out of this particular hole by Felicity’s arrival. She pushes into the cramped conference room, wedges herself in at the head of the table.
“Hello then,” she says, “I trust you’ve all had time to meet Hannah, so down to business. Tabitha, if you’d take us through your findings.”
Tabitha stands. She’s wearing a featureless gray tube of a dress, her neck and upper torso
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