eating patterns in caged animals by feeding them live prey. The caged specimens in my study had been propagated as laboratory animals for five hundred years. There was no reason to pretend that they would ever be released to the wild. Fully half of their instinctive memory had degraded from lack of reinforcement. The geneticists could show the loss of cellular memory macroscopically even.”
“Macroscopically? There was that much loss of DNA memory?”
“Half the things were piebald, some of them albino. I am all for species preservation and genetic warehousing, etc. etc., but it was too late for that strain. I doubt that they could have caught any of their so -called prey outside of a one-meter cage.
“The PR department insisted that the species was surviving as a wild strain equivalent. They told the public that the species used as food was completely insensate. What we had actually preserved was a ritualistic sacrifice to human biogod vanity. The company CEO was furious with me when the paper was published. So I came here.”
Jamison nodded. “We were wondering how you could do a study like that and stay sane.”
“It helps if you’re not sane to begin with.”
Jamison chuckled. “Now, me, I stick to microbiology. I can experiment on my subjects all I wish without any animal rights activists getting upset.” She paused, eyeing Imelda calculatingly. “We heard a lot about you on Syned.”
“All bad, I hope.”
Jamison smiled openly for the first time and shook her head.
“Worse than that. We heard that you were a first class, A -one bitch, if you’ll pardon my non-scientific terminology.”
“Was that private opinion or general consensus?”
“Hard to tell. It depended on whom the informant was.”
Imelda guffawed. “Well, personal nonbiased observation is still the best means by which to arrive at a conclusion. Who knows? In another few days or so, you’ll be telling everyone I’m a bitch yourself.”
Jamison peered at her oddly, frowning as Imelda poured her another glass of wine.
“Perhaps, but I will give you your period of non-biased observation first.” After a long silence spent moodily sipping, she asked, “Do you really hate men?”
Imelda shrugged. “Only the jerks.”
Jamison nodded soberly. “Then you hate the vast majority of men.”
Imelda smiled, throwing a glance at Jamison. “You may be right. I’m still engaged in my own period of non -biased observation, however.”
Jamison’s eyes twinkled. “That’s not what I heard.”
Imelda shrugged. “I give each of them ten seconds in which not to act like an ass. It’s not my fault if most of them don’t last that long.”
Jamison laughed. “Then it’s the length of your observation period that’s at fa ult. Reduce it to five seconds and you may find fifty percent acceptability.”
Imelda shook her head firmly. “Nope. Ten seconds. I’ve already cut it down from twenty. I do have principles, you know.”
Jamison grinned back. “Alas, the price we pay for principles.” Her expression became more serious. “I spent years finding Caldwell. I hope you find someone yourself some day.”
Imelda stared morosely at her reflection in the glass of wine. Her idiotic heart whispered that maybe she already had. She was trying very hard to drown him.
#
Camille was struggling. She was given the task of categorizing chordate -like species found in the northeast region of Materland, the largest of the five continents. This was her first field study and she was enthusiastic at the chance to analyze unique life forms.
She and two other biologists comprised the North Materland team, her teammates assigned to “invertebrates” and “plants” respectively. Several warm-blooded mammaloid and avian types had been sighted in the area, contributing to Camille’s excitement. Mammaloid forms were an unusual discovery on alien planets, and
“Macroscopically? There was that much loss of DNA memory?”
“Half the things were piebald, some of them albino. I am all for species preservation and genetic warehousing, etc. etc., but it was too late for that strain. I doubt that they could have caught any of their so -called prey outside of a one-meter cage.
“The PR department insisted that the species was surviving as a wild strain equivalent. They told the public that the species used as food was completely insensate. What we had actually preserved was a ritualistic sacrifice to human biogod vanity. The company CEO was furious with me when the paper was published. So I came here.”
Jamison nodded. “We were wondering how you could do a study like that and stay sane.”
“It helps if you’re not sane to begin with.”
Jamison chuckled. “Now, me, I stick to microbiology. I can experiment on my subjects all I wish without any animal rights activists getting upset.” She paused, eyeing Imelda calculatingly. “We heard a lot about you on Syned.”
“All bad, I hope.”
Jamison smiled openly for the first time and shook her head.
“Worse than that. We heard that you were a first class, A -one bitch, if you’ll pardon my non-scientific terminology.”
“Was that private opinion or general consensus?”
“Hard to tell. It depended on whom the informant was.”
Imelda guffawed. “Well, personal nonbiased observation is still the best means by which to arrive at a conclusion. Who knows? In another few days or so, you’ll be telling everyone I’m a bitch yourself.”
Jamison peered at her oddly, frowning as Imelda poured her another glass of wine.
“Perhaps, but I will give you your period of non-biased observation first.” After a long silence spent moodily sipping, she asked, “Do you really hate men?”
Imelda shrugged. “Only the jerks.”
Jamison nodded soberly. “Then you hate the vast majority of men.”
Imelda smiled, throwing a glance at Jamison. “You may be right. I’m still engaged in my own period of non -biased observation, however.”
Jamison’s eyes twinkled. “That’s not what I heard.”
Imelda shrugged. “I give each of them ten seconds in which not to act like an ass. It’s not my fault if most of them don’t last that long.”
Jamison laughed. “Then it’s the length of your observation period that’s at fa ult. Reduce it to five seconds and you may find fifty percent acceptability.”
Imelda shook her head firmly. “Nope. Ten seconds. I’ve already cut it down from twenty. I do have principles, you know.”
Jamison grinned back. “Alas, the price we pay for principles.” Her expression became more serious. “I spent years finding Caldwell. I hope you find someone yourself some day.”
Imelda stared morosely at her reflection in the glass of wine. Her idiotic heart whispered that maybe she already had. She was trying very hard to drown him.
#
Camille was struggling. She was given the task of categorizing chordate -like species found in the northeast region of Materland, the largest of the five continents. This was her first field study and she was enthusiastic at the chance to analyze unique life forms.
She and two other biologists comprised the North Materland team, her teammates assigned to “invertebrates” and “plants” respectively. Several warm-blooded mammaloid and avian types had been sighted in the area, contributing to Camille’s excitement. Mammaloid forms were an unusual discovery on alien planets, and
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