robe.
The cithian would see her. Had to see her. She was right beside him.
There was a soft beeping sound. “Serration 33 clear,” said the cithian, standing no more than an arm's length from Denny. The hard back claws of its rear limbs clattered past as it moved on along the row.
Denny lay very still for several seconds longer. The pain was mostly gone, but his arms and legs still ached, like when he had moved something very heavy or when he ran up the stairs to his compartment on a day when the lift wasn't working. Carefully, making as little noise as possible, Denny leaned to the side to look up at the green woman.
The stone eyes were fixed on his face. There was something funny about the woman's features. She was made out of some kind of rock, which was funny on its own, but it was something more than that. Something about the shape of her nose, the curve of her cheeks, the way her forehead met the rest of her face. She was definitely human–Cousin Sirah had a little of the same look–only she seemed a different kind of human than Denny.
She was absolutely motionless. Frozen. Somewhere, maybe in a picture book, Denny could remember seeing a person carved out of a block of stone. A statue, like the ones his father made of metal, only different. That's what this woman was like. Only not.
Denny glanced at the silvery ball in his hand. He knew that, somehow, it was making this woman. Like the images of the people with the terrible disease that had appeared when the memory had been placed inside Loma's player, this ball was somehow making the image of the woman. She wasn't really there. It was just a picture. Only the picture's that Loma's player made had seemed like just that–pictures floating in the center of the old woman's tiny room. They didn’t seem real. But this woman...
The green woman moved. Her arms might look like stone, but they flexed like muscle. The stone robe she was wearing shifted like cloth. There was no center to her red and white flecked eye, but still Denny could tell that she was looking at him.
The stone face leaned in toward him, the stone eyes staring right into Denny's own. “Hello, Denning Carrelson, resident 14723, Human Containment Facility, Jukal Plex, Rask,” she said in a bright, friendly, and quite loud tone. “I'm Athena.”
It took everything Denny had not to drop the silver ball again. “You know my name,” he whispered.
“Oh, yes,” said the green woman. She nodded, and the corners of her stony mouth were turned up in a slight smile. “I have access to quite a large store of information.”
Denny tried to twist around to see down the row, but with the boxes and shelves all around him and the wrappings, and the extra clothes, and the plastic shell, he could barely see past the woman. “You need to be quiet,” he whispered. “They'll hear you.”
The woman's smile didn’t falter. It almost seemed to Denny like she found the situation he was in funny “Oh no,” she said. “I'm speaking to you by direct neural connection. No one else can hear, see, or detect my presence in any way. Which reminds me.” The woman straightened herself. “The automation nexus on which this interface is operating is specifically not designed for human operation. Use of this nexus can cause discomfort.”
Denny took a second to process her words. “Does that mean every time I touch this ball, it's going to hurt?” The green woman, Athena, nodded. “Also, continued use may lead to medium to long term injury. I am sorry.” She was still smiling.
No matter how long he thought about this, it didn't sound good. Denny looked away from the woman at the silver ball as he turned it over and over in his hand. “If I went back to get a different maton...”
“All such devices available in this facility are encoded with similar lock out mechanisms for human use,” she said. The woman leaned toward him and winked one stony eye. “They thought it would hurt so much you would never
The cithian would see her. Had to see her. She was right beside him.
There was a soft beeping sound. “Serration 33 clear,” said the cithian, standing no more than an arm's length from Denny. The hard back claws of its rear limbs clattered past as it moved on along the row.
Denny lay very still for several seconds longer. The pain was mostly gone, but his arms and legs still ached, like when he had moved something very heavy or when he ran up the stairs to his compartment on a day when the lift wasn't working. Carefully, making as little noise as possible, Denny leaned to the side to look up at the green woman.
The stone eyes were fixed on his face. There was something funny about the woman's features. She was made out of some kind of rock, which was funny on its own, but it was something more than that. Something about the shape of her nose, the curve of her cheeks, the way her forehead met the rest of her face. She was definitely human–Cousin Sirah had a little of the same look–only she seemed a different kind of human than Denny.
She was absolutely motionless. Frozen. Somewhere, maybe in a picture book, Denny could remember seeing a person carved out of a block of stone. A statue, like the ones his father made of metal, only different. That's what this woman was like. Only not.
Denny glanced at the silvery ball in his hand. He knew that, somehow, it was making this woman. Like the images of the people with the terrible disease that had appeared when the memory had been placed inside Loma's player, this ball was somehow making the image of the woman. She wasn't really there. It was just a picture. Only the picture's that Loma's player made had seemed like just that–pictures floating in the center of the old woman's tiny room. They didn’t seem real. But this woman...
The green woman moved. Her arms might look like stone, but they flexed like muscle. The stone robe she was wearing shifted like cloth. There was no center to her red and white flecked eye, but still Denny could tell that she was looking at him.
The stone face leaned in toward him, the stone eyes staring right into Denny's own. “Hello, Denning Carrelson, resident 14723, Human Containment Facility, Jukal Plex, Rask,” she said in a bright, friendly, and quite loud tone. “I'm Athena.”
It took everything Denny had not to drop the silver ball again. “You know my name,” he whispered.
“Oh, yes,” said the green woman. She nodded, and the corners of her stony mouth were turned up in a slight smile. “I have access to quite a large store of information.”
Denny tried to twist around to see down the row, but with the boxes and shelves all around him and the wrappings, and the extra clothes, and the plastic shell, he could barely see past the woman. “You need to be quiet,” he whispered. “They'll hear you.”
The woman's smile didn’t falter. It almost seemed to Denny like she found the situation he was in funny “Oh no,” she said. “I'm speaking to you by direct neural connection. No one else can hear, see, or detect my presence in any way. Which reminds me.” The woman straightened herself. “The automation nexus on which this interface is operating is specifically not designed for human operation. Use of this nexus can cause discomfort.”
Denny took a second to process her words. “Does that mean every time I touch this ball, it's going to hurt?” The green woman, Athena, nodded. “Also, continued use may lead to medium to long term injury. I am sorry.” She was still smiling.
No matter how long he thought about this, it didn't sound good. Denny looked away from the woman at the silver ball as he turned it over and over in his hand. “If I went back to get a different maton...”
“All such devices available in this facility are encoded with similar lock out mechanisms for human use,” she said. The woman leaned toward him and winked one stony eye. “They thought it would hurt so much you would never
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