Phylogenesis - Alan Dean Foster [109]
Perhaps she had acquired some of her friend’s intermittent hints of irrationality. Perhaps she was simply stubborn. In any event, she resolved to wait for him.
The following day shift passed without any sign of her quarry. By now her own shift supervisor would have marked her as absent and initiated a routine search to ascertain her location, health, and status. Her unauthorized absence would go down on her permanent work record, she knew, inhibiting opportunity for advancement and commendation. She did not care. The second night shift arrived, and still the door to cubicle eighty-two remained sealed.
What if he was inside, having suffered some serious harm? A dual coronary arrhythmia, perhaps, with both hearts beating out of cadence. Or a severe intestinal blockage. Curiosity turned to concern, which begat fear. Rising from the resting position in which she had been settled for more than a day, she struggled on stiffened legs to the nearest general accessway and called for a domicile supervisor.
The female responsible for this section of living quarters responded promptly, listened to Jhywinhuran’s weary concerns, and agreed that the situation she was describing demanded some sort of resolution. Accordingly, permission was obtained to make an unauthorized entry into private quarters. As she followed the supervisor down the corridor, Jhywinhuran was beset with conflicting emotions. If something grave had happened to Desvenbapur, she would be severely depressed. If, on the other truhand, there was nothing wrong, she would undoubtedly find herself on the receiving end of a well-deserved stream of imprecation.
She discovered that she could hardly breathe as the supervisor utilized an override to break the seal on the cubicle and slide back the door. They entered together. The interior of the compact living space was neat, clean, spotless; from the rest and relaxation chamber to the smaller area reserved for the carrying out of individual hygiene. In fact, it was more than spotless.
It had not been lived in for some time.
“There must be some mistake.” Her gestures were clumsy, her words hesitant as she surveyed the immaculate, obviously untouched quarters. “His ident is on the door.”
The supervisor checked her own scri!ber. Reflexively gesturing confusion, she checked it again. And a third time. When she looked up, the commingled movements of her limbs and antennae indicated more than simple puzzlement.
“You are right. There is a mistake. This living cubicle is unassigned.”
Mandibles moving slowly against one another, Jhywinhuran stared at the senior female. “But his full ident is imprinted on the entrance.”
“It certainly is. Be assured that I am no less curious than you to find out how and why it is there.”
Jointly, they ran detailed searches. No assistant food preparator of any name had been placed in cubicle eighty-two by residential assignment. Yes, one named Desvenbapur had been transferred to the subsidiary kitchens. No, he could not be located. Perhaps his scri!ber was turned off or had run down without being noticed. Follow-up queries of every single worker assigned to food preparation in this sector revealed no knowledge of a Desvenbapur. Nor could anyone by that name be located anywhere, in any sector.
“Something is very wrong here,” declared the supervisor as she concluded her searching.
Jhywinhuran was still working her scri!ber. “I agree, but what? He told me, told everyone he worked with, that he was being transferred to food preparation in this sector. His name is on the work roster.”
“Just as his name is on the door to these quarters.” The two females considered the situation. “Let me run one more search.”
Jhywinhuran waited while the senior female waltzed the delicate fingers of her truhands over her unit. Moments later she looked up again, her antennae aimed directly at her visitor.