Terra by Mitch Benn Page A

skill and enthusiasm in the gshkth pit were a sight to behold, but while her enthusiasm was infectious, her skill wasn’t. She would wield her gfrg with strength and dexterity, and while Terra could swing a gfrg like the best of them, she always seemed to be half a blip too slow to receive Fthfth’s passing zmms. The bdkt would ricochet maddeningly off the hddgs, sometimes coming to rest among the frkts, sometimes getting stuck fast in a nshp. Fthfth would call out - Yk yk! That was definitely a yk yk! and try to persuade the arbiter to play a jrf-jtt, but the arbiter would blow his pff, call ANOTHER tsh-tsh and play would recommence until Terra, inevitably, would ch-gss when she was supposed to ch-grr and they’d concede another mgmk.
    Terra was beginning to suspect that Fthfth wished she’d chosen another gshkth partner. She approached the main room window of the apartment, felt in her pocket for the little metal tube, squeezed it and watched the crystal slide open. She deactivated her bubble, stepped into the room and flopped onto the padded bench. Just a moment, she told herself. Just a moment to get her breath back, then she would go to her room and start reading. And reading. And reading.
    The door swished open and Lbbp appeared, smiling.
    - You’re home! Excellent.
    - Is it?
    - It certainly is. Wait right there. Lbbp disappeared again. Terra was too tired to be confused or even particularly interested.
    After a few moments – or possibly longer – Lbbp reappeared. He trotted into the room, followed by another Fnrrn Terra didn’t recognise, younger than Lbbp but still much older than herself. He wore a silver garment and carried a slate. She sat up and peered at them blearily.
    - This, said Lbbp, is Gftg. He works for the Brain Science Directorate. I think you may be familiar with some of his work.
    Gftg held up his hand and splayed his fingers. - It’s a real honour to meet you, Terra, he said with what seemed like . . . nervousness?
    - I-I’m sorry, stammered Gftg. I’ve been following your story with great interest ever since . . . since you were . . . since you . . .
    - Arrived? ventured Terra.
    - Yes, arrived, said Gftg. I was so pleased when your – erm, when Lbbp (Lbbp had asked Gftg not to refer to him as Terra’s ‘father’; he’d just remembered in time) contacted me. I do hope I’ll be able to help you.
    Terra had absolutely no idea what was going on.
    - Come into the servery, said Lbbp, registering her confusion.
    Terra followed Lbbp and Gftg through the corridor and into the small room where food was prepared.
    - Oh no, she groaned.
    There on the work surface, just next to the protein manipulator, stood an Interface.
    Lbbp smiled. - I thought you might say that, he said, but let Gftg explain.
    Terra sat down grumpily on one of the servery’s stools, folded her arms and glowered at the Interface, her memory full of headaches and the smell of burnt hair.
    - I worked on the design of the Interface, explained Gftg, and between you and me, not only was it never intended for use by Ymns, it wasn’t even supposed to be used by children at all.
    I know, thought Terra, but couldn’t be bothered to explain how.
    - We’d already made some adjustments to the model we supplied to the Lyceum, but it wasn’t until we heard about your . . . incident that we realised it was going to be used by anyone . . . erm . . .
    - Differently evolved . . .? suggested Lbbp.
    - Exactly, smiled Gftg.
    So much for the ‘manufacturer’s assurances’, thought Terra.
    Gftg went on. - There are obviously some fundamental differences in cranial and cerebral structure between Ymns and Fnrrns, he said, but without access to any, erm, detailed information on Ymn anatomy we didn’t know exactly what these differences were. But Lbbp here, he gestured towards Lbbp who smiled proudly, granted me access to the medical scans from your regular Nosocomium check-ups.
    Terra wasn’t sure whether to feel grateful or disturbed. Gftg