helmet and shut off his separate supply of oxygen.
“Feeling better, Mr. Fernwright?” the stewardess inquired as she delicately recombed his hair. “Miss Yojez has been reading the biographical material you gave us before flight-time, and she is very interested in meeting you. There; now your hair looks just ever so fine. Don’t you think so, Miss Yojez?”
“How do you do, Mr. Fernwright?” Miss Yojez asked him in a heavily accented voice. “I have been glad to know you very. In the lengthitude of our trip I am surprised not to talk to you, because I think we in common much have.”
“May I see Miss Yojez’s biographical material?” Joe asked the stewardess; it was handed to him and he scanned it rapidly. Favorite animal: a squimp. Favorite color: rej. Favorite game: Monopoly. Favorite music: koto, classical and KimioEto. Born in the Prox system, which made her a pioneer, of sorts.
“I think,” Miss Yojez said, “we are in the same undertaking, several of us with the inclusion of I and me.”
“You and me,” Joe said.
“You’re natural Earth?”
“I’ve never been off Earth in my life,” Joe said.
“Then this is your first space flight.”
“Yes,” he said. He eyed her covertly and found her attractive; her short-clipped bronze hair formed an effective contrast to her light gray skin. In addition, she had one of the smallest waists he had ever seen, and in the permo-form spray-foam blouse and pants this as well as the rest of her stood cleanly revealed. “You’re a marine biologist,” he said, reading more of her biographical material.
“Indeed. I am to determine the depth of coral investation of—” She paused, brought forth a small dictionary and looked up a word. “Submerged artifacts.”
He felt curiosity toward one point; he asked, “How did Glimmung manifest himself to you?”
“‘Manifest,’” Miss Yojez echoed; she searched through her small dictionary.
“Materializing,” the stewardess said brightly. “There is a circuit of the ship linking us with a translation computer back on Earth. At each couch is an earphone and microphone. Here are yours, Mr. Fernwright, and here are yours, Miss Yojez.”
“My Terran linguistic skills are returning,” Miss Yojez said, rejecting the earphone. To Joe she said, “What did you—”
“How did Glimmung appear to you?” Joe asked. “Physically what did he look like? Big? Short? Portly?”
Miss Yojez said, “Glimmung initially manifests himself in an aquatic framework, inasmuch as he, proper, often rests at the bottom of the oceans of his planet, in the—” She culled her mind. “The vicinity of the sunken cathedral.”
That explained the oceanic transformation at the policestation. “But subsequently how did he appear?” he asked. “The same?”
“The second time he came to I,” Miss Yojez said, “he manifested himself as a laundry of basket.”
Can she mean that? Joe wondered. A basket of laundry? He thought, then, of The Game; the old preoccupation abruptly stirred into life inside him. “Miss Yojez,” he said, “perhaps we could make use of the computer translator…they can be very interesting. Let me tell you about an incident that occurred in automated translating of a Soviet article on engineering years ago. The term—”
“Please,” Miss Yojez said, “I can’t follow you and additionally we have things other to discuss. We must ask everyone and find out how many has been employed by Mr. Glimmung.” She fitted the earphone to the side of her head, lifted the microphone and pressed all the buttons on the translation console beside her. “Would everyone who is going to Plowman’s Planet to work in Mr. Glimmung’s undertaking raise their hands, please?”
“So anyway,” Joe said, “this article on engineering, when the computer translated it into English, had one strange term in it that appeared over and over. ‘Water sheep.’ What the hell does that mean? they all asked. I dunno, they
“Feeling better, Mr. Fernwright?” the stewardess inquired as she delicately recombed his hair. “Miss Yojez has been reading the biographical material you gave us before flight-time, and she is very interested in meeting you. There; now your hair looks just ever so fine. Don’t you think so, Miss Yojez?”
“How do you do, Mr. Fernwright?” Miss Yojez asked him in a heavily accented voice. “I have been glad to know you very. In the lengthitude of our trip I am surprised not to talk to you, because I think we in common much have.”
“May I see Miss Yojez’s biographical material?” Joe asked the stewardess; it was handed to him and he scanned it rapidly. Favorite animal: a squimp. Favorite color: rej. Favorite game: Monopoly. Favorite music: koto, classical and KimioEto. Born in the Prox system, which made her a pioneer, of sorts.
“I think,” Miss Yojez said, “we are in the same undertaking, several of us with the inclusion of I and me.”
“You and me,” Joe said.
“You’re natural Earth?”
“I’ve never been off Earth in my life,” Joe said.
“Then this is your first space flight.”
“Yes,” he said. He eyed her covertly and found her attractive; her short-clipped bronze hair formed an effective contrast to her light gray skin. In addition, she had one of the smallest waists he had ever seen, and in the permo-form spray-foam blouse and pants this as well as the rest of her stood cleanly revealed. “You’re a marine biologist,” he said, reading more of her biographical material.
“Indeed. I am to determine the depth of coral investation of—” She paused, brought forth a small dictionary and looked up a word. “Submerged artifacts.”
He felt curiosity toward one point; he asked, “How did Glimmung manifest himself to you?”
“‘Manifest,’” Miss Yojez echoed; she searched through her small dictionary.
“Materializing,” the stewardess said brightly. “There is a circuit of the ship linking us with a translation computer back on Earth. At each couch is an earphone and microphone. Here are yours, Mr. Fernwright, and here are yours, Miss Yojez.”
“My Terran linguistic skills are returning,” Miss Yojez said, rejecting the earphone. To Joe she said, “What did you—”
“How did Glimmung appear to you?” Joe asked. “Physically what did he look like? Big? Short? Portly?”
Miss Yojez said, “Glimmung initially manifests himself in an aquatic framework, inasmuch as he, proper, often rests at the bottom of the oceans of his planet, in the—” She culled her mind. “The vicinity of the sunken cathedral.”
That explained the oceanic transformation at the policestation. “But subsequently how did he appear?” he asked. “The same?”
“The second time he came to I,” Miss Yojez said, “he manifested himself as a laundry of basket.”
Can she mean that? Joe wondered. A basket of laundry? He thought, then, of The Game; the old preoccupation abruptly stirred into life inside him. “Miss Yojez,” he said, “perhaps we could make use of the computer translator…they can be very interesting. Let me tell you about an incident that occurred in automated translating of a Soviet article on engineering years ago. The term—”
“Please,” Miss Yojez said, “I can’t follow you and additionally we have things other to discuss. We must ask everyone and find out how many has been employed by Mr. Glimmung.” She fitted the earphone to the side of her head, lifted the microphone and pressed all the buttons on the translation console beside her. “Would everyone who is going to Plowman’s Planet to work in Mr. Glimmung’s undertaking raise their hands, please?”
“So anyway,” Joe said, “this article on engineering, when the computer translated it into English, had one strange term in it that appeared over and over. ‘Water sheep.’ What the hell does that mean? they all asked. I dunno, they
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