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Authors: Charles Sheffield
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might call inner states. You saw as much of Wolf as I did. What sort of man did you find in there?"
Sylvia had expected a discussion of harvester control systems or perhaps of form-change procedures. Her job did not include character assessments, but she could not tell that to Cinnabar Baker. And she was fairly sure that Baker could not be stalled with platitudes.
"Competent but complicated. I don't think I was ever sure what he was thinking."
"Nor did I." Baker smiled like the Gautama and waited.
"He's obviously intelligent, but we knew that from his reputation. And I don't just mean for form-change theory. He saw that there were other matters involved here very quickly."
"Almost too quickly." Cinnabar Baker did not elaborate. Again she sat and waited.
"And he's obviously a sensitive type, too. I saw Leo Manx's reports on Wolf and his relationship to Mary Walton." (And I can imagine how he felt when she left, Sylvia thought, but I won't say that to Cinnabar Baker.) "That means he's still very miserable and thinks he's not getting much out of life. But he took a lot of interest in what we told him, so I suspect that although he believes he feels things strongly, his intellectual drives are more powerful than his emotional ones. He's like Aybee; he lives in a thought world more than a sense world. He wouldn't admit that; maybe he doesn't even know it. As for his other interests, it's hard to say anything. How does he spend his time when he's not at work?"
While she was speaking, Sylvia found herself asking the same question about Cinnabar Baker. The apartment was tiny by Cloud standards, and minimally furnished. The walls were a uniform beige, unrelieved by pictures or other decorations, and there were no personal bits and pieces like the ones that filled Sylvia's own apartment to overflowing. Cinnabar Baker had a reputation for hard work. On the basis of the evidence, work was all she had.
"Did you find him attractive?" The question was so unexpected that Sylvia was not sure she had heard correctly.
"You mean physically attractive?"
"Exactly."
"My God, no. He's absolutely hideous ." Sylvia let that answer sit for a couple of seconds, then felt obliged to add, "I mean, I suppose it's not his fault. Lots of people from the Inner System probably look like that. And he has an interesting mind, and I think he has a good sense of humor. But he's revolting-looking, and of course he's very little, with those short stubby arms. And worst of all, he's—he's too—"
"Too?"
"Too hairy . I wouldn't be surprised if he's covered with hair all over him, like an ape, everywhere. Even on—" Sylvia suddenly became aware of how extreme she must sound. "Of course, I suppose he can't help any of that. Though with form-change equipment available . . ."
"I'm sorry you find him a little unattractive." Cinnabar Baker apparently had a great gift for understatement. Reaching out to stroke the back of the crow standing in front of her, she looked down so that her eyes were hidden from Sylvia. "You see, I wish to make an unusual request of you. And since it's outside the usual range of duties, it has to be no more than an informal request."
"If I can do anything to help you, naturally I will." The day has been crazy so far, she reflected. Let's see if it can get any stranger.
"Good. You know that you will be working closely with Behrooz Wolf, and traveling with him?"
"That's the plan."
"I want you to seek a relationship with him. A very close relationship."
"You mean—you want me to—Surely you don't want me to—" Turpin chose that moment to give a long, gurgling laugh like water flowing away down a drain, and Sylvia could not finish the sentence.
"I mean a psychological attachment," Baker said calmly. "And, if possible, even a physical attachment. And I'll tell you why. Wolf was one of twenty-seven people we considered contacting to help us. He's the only one left, so we tend to say to ourselves, hey, he was really lucky. Maybe he
Sylvia had expected a discussion of harvester control systems or perhaps of form-change procedures. Her job did not include character assessments, but she could not tell that to Cinnabar Baker. And she was fairly sure that Baker could not be stalled with platitudes.
"Competent but complicated. I don't think I was ever sure what he was thinking."
"Nor did I." Baker smiled like the Gautama and waited.
"He's obviously intelligent, but we knew that from his reputation. And I don't just mean for form-change theory. He saw that there were other matters involved here very quickly."
"Almost too quickly." Cinnabar Baker did not elaborate. Again she sat and waited.
"And he's obviously a sensitive type, too. I saw Leo Manx's reports on Wolf and his relationship to Mary Walton." (And I can imagine how he felt when she left, Sylvia thought, but I won't say that to Cinnabar Baker.) "That means he's still very miserable and thinks he's not getting much out of life. But he took a lot of interest in what we told him, so I suspect that although he believes he feels things strongly, his intellectual drives are more powerful than his emotional ones. He's like Aybee; he lives in a thought world more than a sense world. He wouldn't admit that; maybe he doesn't even know it. As for his other interests, it's hard to say anything. How does he spend his time when he's not at work?"
While she was speaking, Sylvia found herself asking the same question about Cinnabar Baker. The apartment was tiny by Cloud standards, and minimally furnished. The walls were a uniform beige, unrelieved by pictures or other decorations, and there were no personal bits and pieces like the ones that filled Sylvia's own apartment to overflowing. Cinnabar Baker had a reputation for hard work. On the basis of the evidence, work was all she had.
"Did you find him attractive?" The question was so unexpected that Sylvia was not sure she had heard correctly.
"You mean physically attractive?"
"Exactly."
"My God, no. He's absolutely hideous ." Sylvia let that answer sit for a couple of seconds, then felt obliged to add, "I mean, I suppose it's not his fault. Lots of people from the Inner System probably look like that. And he has an interesting mind, and I think he has a good sense of humor. But he's revolting-looking, and of course he's very little, with those short stubby arms. And worst of all, he's—he's too—"
"Too?"
"Too hairy . I wouldn't be surprised if he's covered with hair all over him, like an ape, everywhere. Even on—" Sylvia suddenly became aware of how extreme she must sound. "Of course, I suppose he can't help any of that. Though with form-change equipment available . . ."
"I'm sorry you find him a little unattractive." Cinnabar Baker apparently had a great gift for understatement. Reaching out to stroke the back of the crow standing in front of her, she looked down so that her eyes were hidden from Sylvia. "You see, I wish to make an unusual request of you. And since it's outside the usual range of duties, it has to be no more than an informal request."
"If I can do anything to help you, naturally I will." The day has been crazy so far, she reflected. Let's see if it can get any stranger.
"Good. You know that you will be working closely with Behrooz Wolf, and traveling with him?"
"That's the plan."
"I want you to seek a relationship with him. A very close relationship."
"You mean—you want me to—Surely you don't want me to—" Turpin chose that moment to give a long, gurgling laugh like water flowing away down a drain, and Sylvia could not finish the sentence.
"I mean a psychological attachment," Baker said calmly. "And, if possible, even a physical attachment. And I'll tell you why. Wolf was one of twenty-seven people we considered contacting to help us. He's the only one left, so we tend to say to ourselves, hey, he was really lucky. Maybe he
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