football?”
This sounded like a preacher’s pitch to draw Quentin into a prayer revival tent. “You haven’t gone all religious on me, have you, Zak?”
The backup quarterback stared, then smiled. He shook his head. “Maybe it’s a conversation for another time.”
“Maybe,” Quentin said. And if another time actually meant never , that would work out just fine.
The gorgeous receptionist caught their attention with nothing more than her blazing smile. “Mister Lundy will see you now. Go right in.”
The circular wall to the left of her desk rose up. The holos there faded out, revealing a meeting room with a thick glass table.
Waiting inside was a dolphin with legs.
“Quentin,” Yitzhak said. “Meet Danny Lundy.”
“Quentin Barnes! Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.”
Danny Lundy stepped forward. Only Quentin’s growing experience with non-Human life forms stopped him from taking a step back, for this creature’s appearance assailed Quentin with visual input.
Danny wasn’t a gray Dolphin; he’d had his skin modified. The base color was white, probably, but a sheen of reds, yellows, oranges, blues and greens made him look like a moist, streamlined rainbow. He wore some kind of silver harness, a chassis that wrapped around the front and back of his bejeweled dorsal fin and also around the base of his tail. A jeweled cable ran from the harness in front of his fin up and into a metal jack just behind his blow hole. Four thin-but-strong silver leg-cables extended from the underside of the harness, supporting Danny’s weight and letting him walk. Two more silvery protrusions connected to the sides of his foremost harness circle — these looked like thin, sculptured Human arms. They even ended in metallic, Human-looking hands.
Danny walked around the table, strode forward and extended his right mechanical arm. The gesture was artificial, but obvious — he wanted to shake hands.
“Pleased to meet you, Quentin,” he said. Danny’s voice was a mix of low-volume mumbling, chitters and squeaks combined with a louder, dominant tone. Like Doc Patah, Danny Lundy had a vocal adaptor to turn his natural sounds into flawless English, words that rang with a pitch-man’s easy confidence.
Quentin swallowed, then did the courteous thing and shook Danny’s “hand.” Quentin expected cold metal, but the handshake was surprisingly warm, firm and welcoming.
“Uh ... nice to meet you too, Mister Lundy.”
“Danny,” Danny said. “Mister Lundy is my dad, for crying out loud.”
Quentin had seen Dolphins in water, of course. There had been plenty of them in Hudson Bay Station’s water tubes, the aquatic equivalent of sidewalks that also worked for Leekee and Whitokians. But he’d never seen Dolphins up close like this.
Danny had to be at least seven feet from nose to tail, as long as Quentin was tall. Even without the mechanical legs and hands, the rainbow-colored creature weighed at least three hundred pounds.
Danny gestured to the table, a motion so natural and human that Quentin almost forgot the hand and the arm were mechanical.
“Please,” the rainbow dolphin said, “have a seat.”
Yitzhak pulled out one of the four black leather chairs and sat. Quentin did the same. As Danny walked around the table, Quentin leaned in to hiss at Zak.
“Were you going to tell me he was a fish?”
Zak smiled and whispered back. “More fun this way. I wanted to see how you reacted. And he’s not a fish.”
“Whatever.”
Danny lowered his body into a chair made for his long form. “So, Quentin. Zak tells me you might be interested in representation.”
Quentin nodded.
“Good,” Danny said. “Look, I know you’re a busy Human, so I’m not going to swim in circles here. I’m a fan, buddy. I love to watch you play. I want to represent your interests. Anyone can see you have a monster career in front of you, guy, and I’ll be honest — your current contract is one floating turd of
This sounded like a preacher’s pitch to draw Quentin into a prayer revival tent. “You haven’t gone all religious on me, have you, Zak?”
The backup quarterback stared, then smiled. He shook his head. “Maybe it’s a conversation for another time.”
“Maybe,” Quentin said. And if another time actually meant never , that would work out just fine.
The gorgeous receptionist caught their attention with nothing more than her blazing smile. “Mister Lundy will see you now. Go right in.”
The circular wall to the left of her desk rose up. The holos there faded out, revealing a meeting room with a thick glass table.
Waiting inside was a dolphin with legs.
“Quentin,” Yitzhak said. “Meet Danny Lundy.”
“Quentin Barnes! Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.”
Danny Lundy stepped forward. Only Quentin’s growing experience with non-Human life forms stopped him from taking a step back, for this creature’s appearance assailed Quentin with visual input.
Danny wasn’t a gray Dolphin; he’d had his skin modified. The base color was white, probably, but a sheen of reds, yellows, oranges, blues and greens made him look like a moist, streamlined rainbow. He wore some kind of silver harness, a chassis that wrapped around the front and back of his bejeweled dorsal fin and also around the base of his tail. A jeweled cable ran from the harness in front of his fin up and into a metal jack just behind his blow hole. Four thin-but-strong silver leg-cables extended from the underside of the harness, supporting Danny’s weight and letting him walk. Two more silvery protrusions connected to the sides of his foremost harness circle — these looked like thin, sculptured Human arms. They even ended in metallic, Human-looking hands.
Danny walked around the table, strode forward and extended his right mechanical arm. The gesture was artificial, but obvious — he wanted to shake hands.
“Pleased to meet you, Quentin,” he said. Danny’s voice was a mix of low-volume mumbling, chitters and squeaks combined with a louder, dominant tone. Like Doc Patah, Danny Lundy had a vocal adaptor to turn his natural sounds into flawless English, words that rang with a pitch-man’s easy confidence.
Quentin swallowed, then did the courteous thing and shook Danny’s “hand.” Quentin expected cold metal, but the handshake was surprisingly warm, firm and welcoming.
“Uh ... nice to meet you too, Mister Lundy.”
“Danny,” Danny said. “Mister Lundy is my dad, for crying out loud.”
Quentin had seen Dolphins in water, of course. There had been plenty of them in Hudson Bay Station’s water tubes, the aquatic equivalent of sidewalks that also worked for Leekee and Whitokians. But he’d never seen Dolphins up close like this.
Danny had to be at least seven feet from nose to tail, as long as Quentin was tall. Even without the mechanical legs and hands, the rainbow-colored creature weighed at least three hundred pounds.
Danny gestured to the table, a motion so natural and human that Quentin almost forgot the hand and the arm were mechanical.
“Please,” the rainbow dolphin said, “have a seat.”
Yitzhak pulled out one of the four black leather chairs and sat. Quentin did the same. As Danny walked around the table, Quentin leaned in to hiss at Zak.
“Were you going to tell me he was a fish?”
Zak smiled and whispered back. “More fun this way. I wanted to see how you reacted. And he’s not a fish.”
“Whatever.”
Danny lowered his body into a chair made for his long form. “So, Quentin. Zak tells me you might be interested in representation.”
Quentin nodded.
“Good,” Danny said. “Look, I know you’re a busy Human, so I’m not going to swim in circles here. I’m a fan, buddy. I love to watch you play. I want to represent your interests. Anyone can see you have a monster career in front of you, guy, and I’ll be honest — your current contract is one floating turd of
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