by E. M. Foner
“When talking about your feelings, do you logically analyze the actions that fed into your emotional state, or try to make yourself the center of attention?”
“He doesn’t talk about his feelings,” Vivian answered as Samuel struggled to come up with a reply. “Can we have a different question?”
“The answer is acceptable,” the Verlock said, tapping his student tab. “Do you struggle to predict the outcome of events, or do you plot your course based on proven strategies?”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive options,” Samuel complained. “I’m not sure they’re even related.”
“The score is based on your choices, not the internal logic of the questions,” the Verlock said.
“Well, I don’t struggle to predict the outcome of events. I’m not sure about plotting my course based on proven strategies.”
“Your decisions are based on impulse?”
“Is that a test question or are you just asking?”
“Test question.”
“Maybe? Sometimes?”
“Clearly the test is over his head,” the princeling interjected, but this time, the other students hushed the Dollnick.
The Verlock nodded ponderously and made a note on his tab. “Do you value mercy over justice or make friends easily at a new workplace?”
“So you’re asking which statement I agree with most strongly?” Samuel replied.
“But they amount to the same thing,” the Vergallian girl couldn’t help blurting out.
“Don’t answer,” the Verlock warned Sam as rapidly as he could get the words out while turning to glare at Aabina. “No kibitzing! I retract the question and will ask another. Do you have difficulty with theoretical books or do you often apply statistics to the complexities of life?”
“Well, I already admitted that I’m having trouble with the advanced math in the Space Engineering program, and I can’t say that I’ve ever tried applying statistics to, well, anything.”
“Excellent,” the Verlock declared. “Finished in six questions. Do I have permission to submit a paper based on your responses?”
“It was just five questions because you withdrew one,” Samuel reminded him. “Where would you submit a paper?”
“To the Verlock Journal of Student Career and Personality Profiling. And the withdrawn question counts because you heard it.”
The other students all began rising from their seats and moving to the door as their implants or internal time sense informed them that the seminar period had reached an end.
“Wait,” Vivian called to the Verlock, who was of course the slowest to his feet. “What about the test results?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” the serious alien responded.
“Yes,” Samuel said. “It’s interesting, but like Vivian said, I’m not going to change my life based on an aptitude test for an advanced species that outlives us by more than an order of magnitude. I’ll bet I don’t even qualify for ninety percent of the careers open to you guys.”
“You’ll never work in magnetic monopole design,” the Verlock agreed. “Fortunately, the test results were crystal clear that your primary aptitude and nature correlate most highly with diplomacy.”
Vivian placed a hand on Samuel’s arm to keep him back while the bulky alien shuffled out of the room, and then she asked, “Do you think he gave you the real test results or did he just want to prove his original suggestion was correct?”
“I don’t think a Verlock would lie about something like that,” Samuel said. “But I can’t say that the test made much sense either, and I don’t see how my answers could have led to such a definitive conclusion so quickly when he said that five questions was the absolute minimum.”
“Libby?” Vivian asked. “Was the test legitimate?”
“The correlations are all based on Verlock data, meaning the results could be argued, but Rythnal did follow the procedures.”
“Did you really exclude us from taking the ASATs because we’re not from an advanced species?” Samuel asked.
“You both attended my school,” the station librarian replied. “I have much more accurate models for your aptitudes than any test could provide.”
“Then why didn’t you offer us career guidance?” the girl demanded. “I really am confused, you know.”
“I wouldn’t want to interfere with your free will,” Libby replied disingenuously.
Three
“Let me get that for you,” Affie said, slipping past Dorothy and retrieving the bolt of fabric from the lower storage rack. “You really shouldn’t be bending over and picking up heavy objects.”
“I’m pregnant, not sick,” the ambassador’s daughter retorted, though she didn’t attempt to stop the Vergallian from rolling the cloth out on the cutting table. “What do the royal families do when a high-caste woman is expecting? Lock her in a tower guarded by a dragon?”
“Don’t be silly, we’d never let a dragon get near a queen or her family. And no, we don’t treat expectant mothers like glass figurines, but you could use a little common sense.”
“It’s not like I have prior experience at this,” Dorothy pointed out, and began pinning a plastic pattern over the expanse of fabric.
“Didn’t your mom explain everything?”
“Sure, and so did my sister-in-law, and all of my mother’s friends. I’m the one carrying the baby and everybody else is the expert.”
“Stop leaning over the table like that,” Affie begged her. “You’re going to put a dent in it.”
“The table?”
“The baby. Pay attention.”
“Morning, Dorothy. Hey, Affie,” Flazint said as she entered the design room at SBJ Fashions. The Frunge girl had her hair vines up in a casual twist, and she was humming to herself, a sound reminiscent of sanding a block of wood by hand. “Has the baby kicked yet?”
“Don’t encourage him,” Dorothy flung over her shoulder.
“So it is a boy,” Affie declared. “I was starting to wonder when you’d know but I didn’t want to embarrass you by asking. Most Vergallian women can tell within the first couple weeks.”
“I guess that’s why we call you an ‘advanced species’ because it doesn’t work that way with us. I said ‘him’ because Flaz mentioned kicking and I thought of a boy.”
“Then you leave me with no choice,” Affie said in a mock-serious tone. “Librarian. Is she carrying a boy or a girl?”
“That’s confidential information,” Libby responded immediately. “Dorothy, you asked me to alert you when Jeeves returned to the station. He and Baa are back from their outing.”
“Baa still makes me nervous,” Flazint complained, twisting a stray hair vine around her finger. “I don’t get how the two of you treat her like just another alien.”
“Humans don’t have any myths about Terragram mages, so to me she’s a magical cheapskate with feathers who Jeeves had to bribe to get off my mother’s couch,” Dorothy explained.
“Acting confident is part of the royal training I had to take before my sister’s daughters pushed me down the succession line,” Affie added. “Besides, she’s not that bad if you ignore the threats and insults. I think she has self-esteem issues.”
“Afternoon, Dorothy,” Shaina said, sticking her head in the door. “Morning to you, Flazint, and I don’t have a clue what time it is for you at the moment, Affie. Jeeves and Baa are on their way and I’ve pinged Brinda. We’re having a management conference in five minutes.”
“Did something happen?” Flazint asked. “If there’s a legal problem I could ask Tzachan if he’s available.”
“I’m sure he’s never too busy for you,” Dorothy said, winking at Affie, who rolled her eyes. “What were Jeeves and Baa doing out together anyway, Libby?”
“That’s confidential information as well, though from what I know of Baa, she’ll be happy to explain if you ask.”
“I’ll never get this pattern cut out with you guys hanging over me and a meeting in fou
r minutes,” Dorothy complained, pushing aside her scissors without ever taking them up. “We may as well just wait for them in the conference room.”
The three-woman design team of SBJ Fashions followed Shaina down the hall and took their accustomed places at the conference table.
“Can I get you a glass of water or juice?” Flazint asked Dorothy.
“Coffee, please.”
The alien frowned. “Did you have one already today?”
“I always drink coffee with Kevin in the morning,” the ambassador’s daughter replied. “He gets up early to run laps around Mac’s Bones with the dog and then he makes me breakfast.”
The Frunge girl suppressed a shudder at the thought of a male cooking, but pushed forward bravely with her subject. “I stopped in your embassy on my way here to ask about your coffee consumption—”
“You told on me to my mom?”
“I went to talk with the associate ambassador,” Flazint said. “I didn’t even see your mother.”
“You went to ask my Daniel about safe levels of coffee for Dorothy?” Shaina asked in amusement.
“I wanted to consult with a medical expert for your species. The only one I know is M793qK, and he’s on Flower.”
“You went to our embassy to make a cross-galaxy call to Flower to talk to the beetle doctor about my coffee drinking?” Dorothy demanded. “Why didn’t you just ask a human doctor on the station?”
“Remember when Affie and I went to your friend Lynx’s baby shower?”
“In my apartment,” Shaina added.
“Right. And Lynx had that countdown watch the Farling doctor gave her so she’d know when the baby was coming, and we all bet on the delivery time.”
“We won’t be doing that with me,” Dorothy said pointedly.
“I wasn’t suggesting—the point is that Daniel got M793qK on a holoconference for me and I asked him about some of your—what I could do…” Flazint blundered to a halt.
“You went behind my back to get instructions about what I should and shouldn’t be doing while I’m pregnant?”
“Don’t get angry, Dorothy,” Affie said. “I did the same thing. I sent an information request to the Royal College of Physicians since they have plenty of experience treating the families of Human mercenaries on Vergallian worlds, plus our physiology isn’t that far apart compared to most species. Flazint and I are your friends and we have a responsibility to look out for you.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Shaina said.
Dorothy cast a longing look at the coffee machine and exhaled deeply. “So what did the beetle say?”
“Well, he started with some general opinions on the Human reproductive process that weren’t very complimentary, and then he said that with primitive species, the best approach is to take everything in moderation.”
“One cup of coffee a day is the Royal College of Physicians recommendation for your species,” Affie said. “It’s not a volume thing, though. They had specific guidelines for caffeine, so you can’t drink six espressos and count it as one cup.”
“The Farling suggested staying away from espressos altogether.”
“Next you’re going to tell me to stop wearing high heels,” Dorothy groused.
“He did say that you should start weaning yourself by lowering the heel height a little every day since they’re adjustable. I could help you with the programming,” the Frunge girl offered.
“There’s no way that wearing heels could be bad for the baby. I’m more likely to trip and fall in sandals because I’m used to the gyroscopic stabilizers in our shoes.”
“I used to get calf cramps when I wore heels while I was expecting Mike,” Shaina volunteered. “I didn’t even try with his sister.”
“Neither did I,” Brinda joined in the moment she arrived, as if she shared a telepathic connection with her sister and had been there for the entire conversation. “Your whole center of gravity is going to change, you know.”
“See?” Affie said. “They managed just fine without heels and they’re both short. I mean, shorter than you.”
“Gang up on me all you want,” Dorothy responded defiantly. “I’m the one who brought those heels to market and I’ll wear them until my feet fall off.”
“I’d like to see that,” Baa declared, entering the meeting room with Jeeves floating right behind her. “Just let me know ahead of time so I can be ready with a sarcastic comment. I hate it when I miss an opportunity to say something funny, and then later at home, I think up the perfect response I could have made.”
The Terragram mage pulled out the chair next to the Frunge girl, who flinched and edged to the far side of her seat. Jeeves continued on to the head of the table and activated the holographic projection system. A dense grid of data appeared.
“If everybody would turn their attention to last cycle’s sales,” the young Stryx requested.
Baa made a point of not looking up at the data, pretending instead to be very interested in picking a bit of lint from the feathers on her left arm.
“Am I boring you already, Baa?” Jeeves asked.
“Stryx are boring by definition. You have infinite power and you waste it playing goodie-two shoes.”
“I meant that in the context of our meeting today, which began less than a minute ago.”
“It’s a grid of data showing strong sales growth in shoes and wedding gowns, moderate growth in accessories and hats, and flat to contracting sales in tube dresses and travel cloaks. Wake me when you get to the good stuff.”
“I wasn’t aware you could read holograms without looking at them,” Jeeves said grudgingly.
“I can’t, but somebody shined his casing today and reflections are sufficient for data tables. Sales reports are a waste of holographic display technology if you ask me. You should get a flat screen.”
“Since when are we losing sales in tube dresses and travel cloaks?” Dorothy asked. “Those are classics!”
“We’ve been expecting it for some time,” Brinda said. “Neither product is in any way unique to us, although we helped bring them back into fashion. Shaina and I agree that lowering our prices for volume would just cheapen the SBJ brand.”
“That data can’t be right,” Flazint objected. “I thought that my purses were our biggest seller last cycle. I’ve been working overtime getting the clasps for the bespoke orders done and we still have a three-cycle backlog.”
“And we want you to hire more artisans,” Shaina told her. “With the flexible labor contracts offered by the Frunge metal and leather-workers guilds, there’s no downside.”
“Then why aren’t the sales showing?” Flazint gestured at the holograph.
“Because somebody who has an incentives clause in her contract insisted that I break out enchanted items on a separate grid,” Jeeves grumbled, and the hologram morphed into a new data set.
“All of those are enchanted?” Affie exclaimed.
Baa blew on her fingertips and looked even more pleased with herself than usual. “Speaking of incentives, you know that I have a need for cash.”
“All in good time,” Jeeves replied. “The immediate point of this meeting is that Shaina and Brinda have been negotiating with the tunnel network’s professional LARPing league to provide players with official bags-of-holding in return for product placements in the broadcasts. I approved the deal approximately eight minutes ago, but we need a catchy name.”
“Why is everybody looking at me?” Dorothy asked.
“You know you’re good with names,” Flazint said. “You even told me you came up with Libbyland.”
“What’s wrong with SBJ Fashions Bags-of-Holding. Wouldn’t that get us maximum name recognition?”
“Have you ever even watched the league play?” Affie inquired. “Stick always has it on now and the commentators are never going to use a name that long. And the truth is, SBJ Fashions works great for a boutique, but it’s not punchy enough for live action role-playing.”
“Then call them
Baa’s Bags-of-Holding,” Dorothy suggested, shrugging to show that she didn’t consider enchanted fashions worth putting a lot of thought into, even if they were selling. “It would shorten to Baa’s Bags.”
“I like the name, but it’s too long to use for a graphic,” Brinda said. “We need something instantly recognizable to brand the enchanted line of bags, like the SBJ we embroider on all of our other products.”
“BB?” Shaina offered.
“Hate it,” Baa said immediately.
“How about a feather?” Dorothy suggested. “We could do different types and colors to match the bags. And maybe Baa could start enchanting more travel cloaks to revive the line. Couldn’t you make them sword-proof or something?”
“I could add backstabbing protection,” the Terragram mage mused. “It would take around three times as much energy as creating bags-of-holding.”
“Pricey,” Jeeves said. “How about making them stealthy?”
“Depends on the level you want,” Baa replied. “It’s no effort at all to whip up an enchantment that will allow players with a natural affinity to blend into the shadows, like rogues and assassins, but full invisibility comes at a cost.”
“We could do numbers of feathers,” Dorothy said, her enthusiasm for the new product line growing in proportion to her input into its final form. “Like, one feather would be something low-level, like the shadow-blending thing, two feathers could be back-stabbing protection, and three feathers would be full invisibility. I don’t mean it has to be those three things,” she added hastily. “You know I’m not interested in any of that fighting stuff, but I like differentiating cost points, like with my shoes. Can you make bags-of-holding that fit different amounts of stuff, Flazint?”
“It doesn’t depend on my designs,” the Frunge girl said. “It’s all in the enchantment.”
“I already created two tiers for our bags of holding and I was thinking of increasing the number,” Baa said. “The simple enchantment just lets you carry more items and preserves them if you die in the game. We charge more for the version that reduces the weight of the items held.”
