Read Online Myths of the Modern Man by Jacqueline T Lynch - Free Book Online
Authors: Jacqueline T Lynch
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and gathered herself for the effort, “please welcome my esteemed and very dear colleague, Dr. Eleanor Roberts, our mission director.”
Eleanor stood woodenly, submitted to another spontaneous kiss on the cheek from Dr. L’Esperance, but if the nuzzling at first irritated her, she soon learned to be grateful of the implication that it might transfer Dr. L’Esperance’s good graces with the press onto her. For a while, it did. For the first part of her speech, the press was attentive, but as she droned about the dry complexities of spatial deficits, they returned to their usual stockyard demeanor of shuffling, conferring with each other, and only half listening.
Dr. Roberts had the unenviable job of making as detailed an explanation of the mission as possible without actually revealing anything at all. She paraphrased their press kits one more time. General English seemed satisfied, but the press acted unimpressed.
She excused herself and left the podium with more businesslike expedience than grace, and this was taken for curtness. Her curtness was noted by more than one journalist who took the trouble to emphasize in their notes that she was unmarried and perhaps there might be a reason for this.
General English, whose own blustery manner made him oblivious to displays of rudeness or conceit in anyone else, congratulated himself again on picking a project head who was, first, a woman and therefore fitting for demographics of the public since there were more women than men in the population; and second, pretty, and therefore would be attractive to the public which always was drawn in by such things; and third, had several degrees from several universities all testifying to the fact that he was smart himself for choosing her.
Dr. Roberts released her grip on the podium and stepped away from the television lights and web cast equipment. She left without introducing anyone else, so for a moment General English had an awkward segue of recovering an empty stage before producing his next act. He cast an eye across his lineup and beckoned Dr. Ford with his finger.
Dr. Roberts left through the double doors without looking back, as if she was very important and in a hurry. She was not in a hurry. Outside in the hall, almost as crowded as the press room, she moved along without making eye contact to the other team members who parted to allow her to pass like a royalty in a poor village.
She wanted only to get back to the lab again, and away from everything else. In no other place did she find such comfort, such peace, and such control.
Eleanor noticed Dr. L’Esperance standing in the hall, surrounded by members of the Committee.
“ You’ll come now to the reception, won’t you, Dr. L’Esperance? Yes, please join us. We’d love to hear more of your thoughts on the project,” they said to her, and she accepted with obvious pleasure.
Eleanor, alone and ignored, and dejected, walked back to lab. The hallway hangers-on had thinned out; then the hall before her was empty and she could hear the sound of her own footsteps’ hard clacking on the shiny tile floor and echoing in the empty space all around her.
So, this is how it was to be -- usurped by a tall, weird, metaphysicist rock star.
Eleanor would not go without a fight.
Before even reaching her laboratory, she compiled a mental list of methods to eliminate Cheyenne L’Esperance.
CHAPTER 6
Colonel John Moore’s narrative:
They walked me north. We passed through scattered villages, nothing more than a meager collection of wood huts with thatched roofs, but they represented Celtic civilization of the day. Unlike the Romans who lived in towns and were ingenious about roads and plumbing, the Celts were country folk, who lived in sporadic collections of huts that could be called villages for lack of any other description. Their dwellings looked like the kind of huts the two foolish little pigs made, the frail huts of sticks and straw that the big
Eleanor stood woodenly, submitted to another spontaneous kiss on the cheek from Dr. L’Esperance, but if the nuzzling at first irritated her, she soon learned to be grateful of the implication that it might transfer Dr. L’Esperance’s good graces with the press onto her. For a while, it did. For the first part of her speech, the press was attentive, but as she droned about the dry complexities of spatial deficits, they returned to their usual stockyard demeanor of shuffling, conferring with each other, and only half listening.
Dr. Roberts had the unenviable job of making as detailed an explanation of the mission as possible without actually revealing anything at all. She paraphrased their press kits one more time. General English seemed satisfied, but the press acted unimpressed.
She excused herself and left the podium with more businesslike expedience than grace, and this was taken for curtness. Her curtness was noted by more than one journalist who took the trouble to emphasize in their notes that she was unmarried and perhaps there might be a reason for this.
General English, whose own blustery manner made him oblivious to displays of rudeness or conceit in anyone else, congratulated himself again on picking a project head who was, first, a woman and therefore fitting for demographics of the public since there were more women than men in the population; and second, pretty, and therefore would be attractive to the public which always was drawn in by such things; and third, had several degrees from several universities all testifying to the fact that he was smart himself for choosing her.
Dr. Roberts released her grip on the podium and stepped away from the television lights and web cast equipment. She left without introducing anyone else, so for a moment General English had an awkward segue of recovering an empty stage before producing his next act. He cast an eye across his lineup and beckoned Dr. Ford with his finger.
Dr. Roberts left through the double doors without looking back, as if she was very important and in a hurry. She was not in a hurry. Outside in the hall, almost as crowded as the press room, she moved along without making eye contact to the other team members who parted to allow her to pass like a royalty in a poor village.
She wanted only to get back to the lab again, and away from everything else. In no other place did she find such comfort, such peace, and such control.
Eleanor noticed Dr. L’Esperance standing in the hall, surrounded by members of the Committee.
“ You’ll come now to the reception, won’t you, Dr. L’Esperance? Yes, please join us. We’d love to hear more of your thoughts on the project,” they said to her, and she accepted with obvious pleasure.
Eleanor, alone and ignored, and dejected, walked back to lab. The hallway hangers-on had thinned out; then the hall before her was empty and she could hear the sound of her own footsteps’ hard clacking on the shiny tile floor and echoing in the empty space all around her.
So, this is how it was to be -- usurped by a tall, weird, metaphysicist rock star.
Eleanor would not go without a fight.
Before even reaching her laboratory, she compiled a mental list of methods to eliminate Cheyenne L’Esperance.
CHAPTER 6
Colonel John Moore’s narrative:
They walked me north. We passed through scattered villages, nothing more than a meager collection of wood huts with thatched roofs, but they represented Celtic civilization of the day. Unlike the Romans who lived in towns and were ingenious about roads and plumbing, the Celts were country folk, who lived in sporadic collections of huts that could be called villages for lack of any other description. Their dwellings looked like the kind of huts the two foolish little pigs made, the frail huts of sticks and straw that the big
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