The Human Blend - Alan Dean Foster [76]
11
“I’m going to have to show the thread to Dr. Sverdlosk. He’ll want to take his own readings in order to run his own programs and analysis.”
Bestirring himself, Whispr slid his legs off the inflatable bed. Might as well get up, he told himself. His coffitte had already turned tepid and was in need of a recharge. It was amazing how quickly one could get used to the finer things of life.
“You’re not going to leave it with him?”
“No.” Fully dressed and ready to go out, Ingrid had stopped by the half-open front door to look back at him. “I’ll be right beside him while he takes his measurements and I won’t let it out of my sight. I don’t think there’ll be any problem.”
Whispr still wasn’t happy. “Sure you can trust this boffin?”
Ingrid tut-tutted. “That paranoia of yours again. I’ve known Rudy ever since I took up both personal and professional residence in this building. He’s one of my closest friends and a dear colleague. Honest, dependable, wide-ranging in his interests, generous with advice, and something of a mentor.”
“Sounds like the perfect boyfriend.” Whispr couldn’t quite keep the sneer out of his voice.
While the memory of his earlier unwelcome advance had begun to fade, a certain frisson of tension still scented the codo like spoiled cheese. She was grateful for the chance to make light of it.
“Rudy? He’s seventy-something. A little too old for me.”
Whispr brightened immediately. “As opposed to me?”
“Natural or Meld, you’re too skinny,” she shot back. “Also too forward, too rough around the edges, too unstable, too—”
He cut her off. “Too much. I get the picture.” He raised his self-heating glass in sardonic salute. “I guess I’ll have to satisfy myself with reloaded coffittes.”
“Don’t overdo it. Someone as naturally jumpy as you doesn’t need to add caffeine.” The codo’s front door slid all the way aside and she started out. “I’ve put a hinder on one half of the drink dispenser. No alcohol or other stimulants.”
He shrugged. “I don’t indulge as much as you seem to think. I’ve seen too many friends lose their lives at the same time as their inhibitions.” He offered a casual wave as she departed.
Then he spent the next hour fruitlessly trying to rescind the block she had placed on the kitchen dispenser.
SVERDLOSK HAD AGREED TO MEET her in his offices during their mutual lunch hour. Although the enigmatic thread was not far from her thoughts she still had to deal with her regular clientele as well as new patients and referrals. Her preoccupation was apparent to staff and friends alike.
“You are distracted, dyevooshka.” Sverdlosk’s eyes twinkled beneath brows bushy as rainforest caterpillars. With the crinkled skin beneath his eyes, full mane of white hair, and perfectly trimmed short white beard, he looked like a secondary character from a Chekov play. In fact, he looked much like the playwright himself would have looked had he lived to such a respectable age. There was nothing grandfatherly about his manner, however. Certain men are forever thirty—if only in their minds.
“You have no idea.” As she replied she was reaching into the secured pocket over her left breast. Reading her finger, the flap unsealed and allowed her to remove the small clear capsule that had been secreted within. Without the slightest compunction she handed it to the senior physician. Whispr’s wariness may have infected her, but so far she was free of his frightful paranoia.
Sverdlosk pushed out his lower lip, eyed her questioningly, and then turned his attention to the capsule’s contents, rolling the transparent cylinder back and forth between his fingers. At a touch, magnifier lenses flipped down over his eyes. A Meld in his position would have undergone and employed an artificial vision