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Could I get you to come down to the office, so we can fill out some paperwork?" Bother. MORE time taken away. Oh well, I guess it couldn't be avoided. I agreed to come down to her office after lunchtime. We finished our conversation, and I hung up the phone. Peter was still at work, so I had time to do some puttering about. I went back to my workroom, and started pulling books off the shelf. I still hadn't managed to put together my index, but it was a work in progress. With my crystal ball, I'd discovered that Xanthos' virus hadn't managed to knock out all of the Master PC's still out in the world. At best guess, there were something like 10000 users of the program on the earth. These others bothered me. Some of them, like Xanthos, and Dan, the high school teacher, didn't particularly bother me, but the majority of the others were seriously scary fellows. Even worse, some of them were in the process of making themselves gods on earth. My current project was to start cataloging and. She feels a hand wrap around hers, friendly and undemanding, and has a moment to glance up at the young man’s smiling face before the ebb and flow of the crowd pushes them together. She recognizes him vaguely as one of the guys from the party, she’d noted him on the bus for the fact he was taller than the others, but that difference is far more apparent now. She hates to dance in heels but she can’t recall having felt as small as this before, her face level with his chest, unable to look at his face without tilting her head right back. He takes her other hand and moves with her, finding the beat and guiding her along. There’s no force in his actions, there doesn’t need to be. She isn’t drunk, not with classes in the morning, but it’s late and the club is packed, turning his warm, solid form an island of tranquility in the madness. He wraps an arm around her waist and she places the hand he has let go of on his chest. He’s at least a seven or an eight, she notes idly, a tall, gentle.
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