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She told him he spread himself too thinly. He wasn't really destroying
himself, he was stopping himself from developing. He was still in a sort of
childish state, a boy-
like phase where numbers mattered more than anything, where obsessive
collecting, taking, enumerating, cataloguing all spoke of a basic immaturity.
He could never grow and develop as a human being until he went beyond this
infantile obsession with penetration and possession.
He told her he didn't want to get beyond this stage; he loved it. Anyway,
even though he loved it and wouldn't care if he remained promiscuous until he
was too old to do it at all, the chances were that he would change, sometime,
eventually, over the course of the next three centuries or so of life which he
could expect&
There was plenty of time to do all this damned growing and developing. It
would take care of itself. He wasn't going to try and force the pace. If all
this sexual activity was something he had to get out of his system before he
could properly mature, then she had a moral duty to help him get rid of it as
quickly as possible, starting right now&
She pushed him away, as ever. He didn't understand, she told him. It wasn't
a finite supply of promiscuity he was draining, it was an ever-replenishing
fixation that was eating up his potential for future personal growth. She was
the still point in his life he needed, or at least still point; he would
probably need many more in a his life, she had no illusions about that. But,
for now, she was it. She was the rock the river of his turbulent passion had
to break around. She was his lesson.
They both specialised in the same area; exobiology. He listened to her talk
sometimes and wondered whether it was possible to feel more truly alien
towards another being than it was to someone of one's own species who ought to
think in an at least vaguely similar way, but instead thought utterly
differently. He could learn about an alien species, study them, get under
their skin, under their carapaces, inside their spines or their membranes or
whatever else you had to penetrate (ha!)
to get to know them, get to understand them, and he could always, eventually,
do that; he could start to think like them, start to feel things the way they
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would, anticipate their reactions to things, make a decent guess at what they
were thinking at any given moment. It was an ability he was proud of.
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Just by being so different from the creature you were studying you started out
at a sufficiently great angle, it seemed to him, to be able to make that
penetration and get inside their minds. With somebody who was ninety-nine per
cent the same as you, you were too close sometimes. You couldn't draw far
enough away from them to come in at a steep enough angle; you just slid off,
every time in a succession of glancing contacts. No getting through.
Frustration upon frustration.
Then a post had come up on a world called Telaturier. A long-term situation,
spending anything up to five years with an aquatic species called the 'Ktik
which the
Culture wanted to help develop. It was the sort of non-ship-based Contact
post people were often offered at the end of their career; Dajeil was regarded
as a natural for it. It would mean one, maybe two people staying on the
planet, otherwise alone save for the 'Ktik, for all that time. There would be
the occasional visit from others, but little time off and no extended
holidays; the whole point was to establish a long-term personal relationship
with 'Ktik individuals. It wasn't something to be entered into lightly; it
would mean commitment. Dajeil asked to be considered for the post and was
accepted.
Byr couldn't believe Dajeil was leaving the
Recent Convert.
He told her she was doing it to annoy him. She told him he was being
ridiculous. And unbelievably self-
centred. She was doing it because it was an important job and it was
something she felt she'd be good at. It was also something she was ready for
now; she had done her bit scudding round the galaxy in GCUs and enjoyed every
moment, but now she had changed and it was time to take on something more
long-term. She would miss him, and she hoped he would miss her - though he
certainly wouldn't miss her for as long as he claimed he would, or even as
long as he thought he would - but it was time to move on, time to do something
different. She was sorry she hadn't been able to stick around longer, being
his still point, but that was just the way it was, and this was too great an
opportunity to miss.
Later, he could never remember exactly when he'd made the decision to go with
her, but he did. Perhaps he had started to believe some of the things she'd
been telling him, but he too just felt that it was time to do something
different, even if he had only been in Contact for a short while.
It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, harder than any seduction (with the
possible exception of hers). To start with, he had to convince her it was a
good idea. She wasn't even initially flattered, not for a second. It was a
terrible idea, she told him. He was too young, too inexperienced, it was far,
far too early in his
Contact stint. He wasn't impressing her; he was being stupid. It wasn't
romantic, it wasn't sensible, it wasn't flattering, it wasn't practical, it
was just idiotic. And if by some miracle they did let him go along with her,
he needn't assume that just
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commitment would ensure she'd sleep with him.
This didn't prove anything except that he was as foolish as he was vain.
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III
The General Contact Unit
Grey Area didn't hold with avatars; it spoke through a slaved drone. 'Young
lady-'
'Don't you "young lady" me in that patronising tone!' Ulver Seich said,
putting her hands on her suited, gem-encrusted hips. She still had the suit
helmet on, though with the visor plate hinged up. They were in the GCU's
hangar space with a variety of modules, satellites and assorted paraphernalia.
It looked like the space was fairly crowded at the best of times, but it was
even more cluttered-now with the small module that had belonged to the ROU
Frank Exchange of Views sitting in it.
'Ms Seich,' the drone purred on, unaffected. 'I was not supposed to pick up
you or your colleague Dn Churt Lyne. I have done so because you were
effectively adrift in the middle of a war zone. If you really insist-'
'We weren't adrift!' Ulver said, waving her arms around and pointing back at
the module. 'We were in that! It's got engines, you know!'
'Yes, very slow ones. I did say effectively adrift.' The ship-slaved drone, a
casingless assemblage of components floating at head height, turned to the
drone
Churt Lyne. 'Dn Churt Lyne. You too are welcome. Would it be possible for
you to attempt to persuade your colleague Ms Seich-'
'And don't talk about me as if I'm not here either!' Ulver said, stamping one
foot. The deck under Genar-Hofoen's feet resounded.
He had never been more glad to see a GCU. Release from that damned module and
Ulver Seich's abrasive moodiness. Bliss. The
Grey Area had welcomed him first, he'd noticed.
Finally he was back on course. From here to the
Sleeper
, get the job done and then
- if the war wasn't totally fucking things up - off for some R&R somewhere
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