figure her for a brown-noser of major dimensions to expect her to do diminishing-return work just to satisfy a few governmental requirements, plus help him to hide from Trefarbe to boot! Maybe she should storm back to his office and quit.
The mud beasts had been sighted on Materland. Mud bogs had also been sighted elsewhere and some seemed inhabited. Were all mud inhabitants the same species? Unlikely. No aerial reports confirmed that the species were even similar. Of course, no aerial reports confirmed that there were any species either.
So, to indirect evidence. Groundbase clearance question # 1: Did Mud Bog habitations represent civilized society? There was a list of CHA checkpoints so mewhere. She had forgotten the checkpoints as soon as she had finished the Bioethics exam. Awfully embarrassing if she couldn’t find a copy on file. “Uh, boss, now what is it that I’m supposed to do?”
As she clattered the first keys to be gin a search for the list, the door to the room opened. The other three workstations had heretofore been empty. Her new roommates filed in.
#
God, his eyes. Brown soul-sucking chasms squeezing every ounce of reason out of her. He was chatting with the others, laughing easily at nonsensical inanities. She refused to look at him again.
She had slammed the privacy sphere shut almost as soon as they entered. She originally intended to be somewhat amicable, but one look at his face killed that idea. She had to be dreaming this. He was really an Iagan and she was hallucinating. Against her own advice, she risked another glance. Dimples! Dimples and a sense of humor. A gentle sense of humor.
Her heart raced in panic. She had read about this sort of thing… recognition of a kindred spirit. Fatal attraction. If the idiot were to speak to her she’d dissolve, slobber all over him. What a disaster! She’d been sitting here the hour since he’d arrived and gotten nothing done.
She was going to have to change to another workstation! No, she couldn’t. Trefarbe would ask questions, figure it out, and gloat. That would end the ruse with Caldwell. No, she was just going to have to deal with it. If only she could stop shaking, she would leave and recoup in a bottle of wine. Deep breathing was supposed to help. She tried to gulp air silently.
He was leaving! He glanced at her, seemed upset about something. Maybe she did seem a bit rude, hiding behind Plexiglas, but the situation was desperate. She watched him leave with peripheral vision, wishing she wasn’t too cowardly to stare. When the door was safely shut behind him, her pulse finally began to slow. Damn!
What was it the philosopher Packard had said? “Love is where the body harmonizes with the soul.” Well, her body and soul were in great discord now. It couldn’t be love. Reason inserted an idea into her head. Someone who looked like him had to have a girlfriend. Or even a wife. Good thought. Hold on to it, she told herself, for dear life.
Her legs finally less rubbery, she beat a hasty retreat, ignoring the two remaining coworkers.
#
Cencom’s database surrendered the checkpoints after only minimal cursing (and one threat to an infotech). There were four main categories of checkpoints: ‘Anatomical structures compatible with intelligence; Constructions of a non-instinctive nature; Non-instinctive solutions to threat; Evidence of a complex social structure capable of rapid response to change.’
Analysis of the beast according to the last two categories was a waste of time. Ducking under the mud to hide didn’t require any more brains than a paramecium. She couldn’t see enough to know if there was a social structure, or even if there were enough beasts to socialize. The first category she had already drawn a blank on. She would have to concentrate on constructions.
She checked the stats on the environments the mud beasts
The mud beasts had been sighted on Materland. Mud bogs had also been sighted elsewhere and some seemed inhabited. Were all mud inhabitants the same species? Unlikely. No aerial reports confirmed that the species were even similar. Of course, no aerial reports confirmed that there were any species either.
So, to indirect evidence. Groundbase clearance question # 1: Did Mud Bog habitations represent civilized society? There was a list of CHA checkpoints so mewhere. She had forgotten the checkpoints as soon as she had finished the Bioethics exam. Awfully embarrassing if she couldn’t find a copy on file. “Uh, boss, now what is it that I’m supposed to do?”
As she clattered the first keys to be gin a search for the list, the door to the room opened. The other three workstations had heretofore been empty. Her new roommates filed in.
#
God, his eyes. Brown soul-sucking chasms squeezing every ounce of reason out of her. He was chatting with the others, laughing easily at nonsensical inanities. She refused to look at him again.
She had slammed the privacy sphere shut almost as soon as they entered. She originally intended to be somewhat amicable, but one look at his face killed that idea. She had to be dreaming this. He was really an Iagan and she was hallucinating. Against her own advice, she risked another glance. Dimples! Dimples and a sense of humor. A gentle sense of humor.
Her heart raced in panic. She had read about this sort of thing… recognition of a kindred spirit. Fatal attraction. If the idiot were to speak to her she’d dissolve, slobber all over him. What a disaster! She’d been sitting here the hour since he’d arrived and gotten nothing done.
She was going to have to change to another workstation! No, she couldn’t. Trefarbe would ask questions, figure it out, and gloat. That would end the ruse with Caldwell. No, she was just going to have to deal with it. If only she could stop shaking, she would leave and recoup in a bottle of wine. Deep breathing was supposed to help. She tried to gulp air silently.
He was leaving! He glanced at her, seemed upset about something. Maybe she did seem a bit rude, hiding behind Plexiglas, but the situation was desperate. She watched him leave with peripheral vision, wishing she wasn’t too cowardly to stare. When the door was safely shut behind him, her pulse finally began to slow. Damn!
What was it the philosopher Packard had said? “Love is where the body harmonizes with the soul.” Well, her body and soul were in great discord now. It couldn’t be love. Reason inserted an idea into her head. Someone who looked like him had to have a girlfriend. Or even a wife. Good thought. Hold on to it, she told herself, for dear life.
Her legs finally less rubbery, she beat a hasty retreat, ignoring the two remaining coworkers.
#
Cencom’s database surrendered the checkpoints after only minimal cursing (and one threat to an infotech). There were four main categories of checkpoints: ‘Anatomical structures compatible with intelligence; Constructions of a non-instinctive nature; Non-instinctive solutions to threat; Evidence of a complex social structure capable of rapid response to change.’
Analysis of the beast according to the last two categories was a waste of time. Ducking under the mud to hide didn’t require any more brains than a paramecium. She couldn’t see enough to know if there was a social structure, or even if there were enough beasts to socialize. The first category she had already drawn a blank on. She would have to concentrate on constructions.
She checked the stats on the environments the mud beasts
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