agitated state, he registered the purchase with a twinge of envy—and resentment toward the service unit as well as Bear.
Balensa edged forward, intent on the supervisor. "You'll pardon me now," Bear said, "but it's necessary that I speak to your spouse in private. Perhaps you'd care to visit your rec-center or take a stroll. An hour should suffice."
Balensa looked as though Bear had hosed her down with ice water. "But, but—that is, as spouse, I think I have the right to know what it is—"
Bear let some peevishness creep into her voice. "The needs of Earthservice come first, and right now one of those needs is confidentiality. You're forcing me to use my rather limited time unproductively."
Balensa was up in a rustle of stiff costume, stalking for the door. "And, citizen … " Bear added.
Balensa halted. "Keep utter silence about this visit; this is an official warning. And don't press your spouse for details. You'll be briefed at the proper time."
Thoroughly put to rout, Balensa exited. Bear took another sip from a drink that was mostly melted ice. Floyt was completely bewildered and still shaken by the assault, but with a supervisor doing the investigating, it would be wiser to wait and learn what he could, tailoring his account and explanations to the circumstances.
"Citizen Floyt, your hobby is genealogy," Bear began. "You're quite knowledgeable about Terran and offworld lineages and histories."
He nodded mutely.
She seemed about to go on in the same vein, then digressed to ask him, "How did you come to be so expert? The subject has little to do with your assignment as an information accessor/interfacer."
"I was introduced to genealogy during a collating assignment about eight years ago. It caught my interest."
Bear gestured toward the hall closet. "Your spouse showed me your cubby."
"I use my rec-time allotment to interface with the information systems, Supervisor." It was all perfectly legal, but he suddenly wondered if he'd done something wrong. There were so many Earthservice regs; it was impossible to know them all. "And sometimes I do research at the workplace, but only during breaktime. And I always charge it to my code … "
Unconcerned with minor details, she was making a rejecting motion. "Your work has been reproduced off-world."
He felt himself blush. Interest in offworld things was considered eccentric, if not suspect. "I contributed a few trifles to the data banks. Some offworld accessor noticed them and offered Earthservice a repro fee, or so I was told."
"They were more than trifles. Three separate, comprehensive genealogies and two monographs." It was true. And the money involved must have been considerable, he'd always assumed, because a microscopic sum had actually been passed along to him, though Earthservice assessments on offworld earnings were all but total.
"Some of this business apparently came to the attention of a man named Caspahr Weir," Bear was saying cooly, with a proper disdain for offworld things. "He was interested in his misbred origins, I suppose. At any rate, he died recently and saw fit to leave you a bequest in his will."
Floyt was severely staggered, but first of all by that name. Weir! That Weir should've taken notice of Floyt's work gave him a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, so much so that he almost missed the last part.
"Bequest?"
"You heard me correctly. You're mentioned in the will of a man who was director—monarch, really—of nineteen stellar systems."
"I don't know what … what I should—"
"By provision of the will, all heirs—'Inheritors'—must gather at Weir's home on a planet called Epiphany. There you'll attend a Willreading, which is to take place in approximately three weeks. Failure to appear will mean forfeiture of all claim to your bequest. The Earthservice intends you to be there."
All that had gone before was a gentle overture to the shock waves that began to crash through Floyt's nervous system. Offworld! Without realizing
Balensa edged forward, intent on the supervisor. "You'll pardon me now," Bear said, "but it's necessary that I speak to your spouse in private. Perhaps you'd care to visit your rec-center or take a stroll. An hour should suffice."
Balensa looked as though Bear had hosed her down with ice water. "But, but—that is, as spouse, I think I have the right to know what it is—"
Bear let some peevishness creep into her voice. "The needs of Earthservice come first, and right now one of those needs is confidentiality. You're forcing me to use my rather limited time unproductively."
Balensa was up in a rustle of stiff costume, stalking for the door. "And, citizen … " Bear added.
Balensa halted. "Keep utter silence about this visit; this is an official warning. And don't press your spouse for details. You'll be briefed at the proper time."
Thoroughly put to rout, Balensa exited. Bear took another sip from a drink that was mostly melted ice. Floyt was completely bewildered and still shaken by the assault, but with a supervisor doing the investigating, it would be wiser to wait and learn what he could, tailoring his account and explanations to the circumstances.
"Citizen Floyt, your hobby is genealogy," Bear began. "You're quite knowledgeable about Terran and offworld lineages and histories."
He nodded mutely.
She seemed about to go on in the same vein, then digressed to ask him, "How did you come to be so expert? The subject has little to do with your assignment as an information accessor/interfacer."
"I was introduced to genealogy during a collating assignment about eight years ago. It caught my interest."
Bear gestured toward the hall closet. "Your spouse showed me your cubby."
"I use my rec-time allotment to interface with the information systems, Supervisor." It was all perfectly legal, but he suddenly wondered if he'd done something wrong. There were so many Earthservice regs; it was impossible to know them all. "And sometimes I do research at the workplace, but only during breaktime. And I always charge it to my code … "
Unconcerned with minor details, she was making a rejecting motion. "Your work has been reproduced off-world."
He felt himself blush. Interest in offworld things was considered eccentric, if not suspect. "I contributed a few trifles to the data banks. Some offworld accessor noticed them and offered Earthservice a repro fee, or so I was told."
"They were more than trifles. Three separate, comprehensive genealogies and two monographs." It was true. And the money involved must have been considerable, he'd always assumed, because a microscopic sum had actually been passed along to him, though Earthservice assessments on offworld earnings were all but total.
"Some of this business apparently came to the attention of a man named Caspahr Weir," Bear was saying cooly, with a proper disdain for offworld things. "He was interested in his misbred origins, I suppose. At any rate, he died recently and saw fit to leave you a bequest in his will."
Floyt was severely staggered, but first of all by that name. Weir! That Weir should've taken notice of Floyt's work gave him a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, so much so that he almost missed the last part.
"Bequest?"
"You heard me correctly. You're mentioned in the will of a man who was director—monarch, really—of nineteen stellar systems."
"I don't know what … what I should—"
"By provision of the will, all heirs—'Inheritors'—must gather at Weir's home on a planet called Epiphany. There you'll attend a Willreading, which is to take place in approximately three weeks. Failure to appear will mean forfeiture of all claim to your bequest. The Earthservice intends you to be there."
All that had gone before was a gentle overture to the shock waves that began to crash through Floyt's nervous system. Offworld! Without realizing
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