The Death of Sleep by Anne McCaffrey, Jody Lynn Nye Page A

get around in if you didn't have models hanging everywhere," Pomayla told him.
    "I've been in worse on shipboard, believe me," Tee said. "In which every bunk belongs to three crew, who use it in turn for a shift apiece. No sleeping late. No lingering in the morning to get to know one another all over again." He glanced at Lunzie through his eyelashes with an exaggerated look of longing, and she laughed.
    "My lad, you should simply have gotten to know someone on the next shift, so then you could move on to her bunk."
    Pomayla, who was shy about personal relations, promptly got up to serve drinks.
    "Were you in the FSP?" Shof asked Tee.
    "Only as a contractor. I helped to develop a new star navigations system. My specialty was computer-driven laser technology."
    "Stellar, citizen," Shof said, enthusiastically. "Me, too. I built my first laser beam calculator out of spare parts when I was four." He held up his right hand. "Cauterized this index finger clean off. I've generally had bad luck with this finger. It's been regenerated twice now. But I've learned to use a laser director better since then."
    "Laser director?" Tee asked. "You don't use a laser director to create the synapse links."
    "I do."
    "No wonder you burned off your finger, little man. Why didn't you simply recalculate the angles before trying to connect power?"
    They began to argue research and technique, going immediately from lay explanation, which the other three could understand, into the most involved technical lingo. It sounded like gibberish to Lunzie and Pomayla, and probably did to Laren, who sat politely nodding and smiling whenever anyone met his eyes. Lunzie remembered that he was an economics major.
    "So," asked Shof, stopping for breath, "what's the new system based on? Ion propulsion with laser memory's faulty; they've figured that out now. Gravity well drives are still science fiction. Laser technology's too delicate by itself to stand up against the new matter-antimatter drives."
    "But why not?" Tee began, looking lost. "That was new when I was working for the FSP. The laser system was supposed to revolutionize space travel. It should have lasted for two hundred years."
    "Yeah. Went in and out of fashion like plaid knickers, " Shof said, deprecatingly. "Doppler shift, you know. Well, you've got to start somewhere."
    "Somewhere?" Tee echoed, indignantly, "Our technology was the very newest, the most promising. . . ."
    Shof spread out his hands and said reasonably, "I'm not saying that the current system wasn't based on LT. Where have you been for the last decade, Earth?"
    Tee's face, once open and animated, had closed up into tight lines. His mouth twisted, fighting back some sour retort. His involuntary passage with cold sleep was still a sore point with him. Lunzie suddenly understood why he was reluctant to talk about his past experiences with anyone. The experiential gap between the people who experienced time at its normal pace and the cold sleepers was real and troubling to the sleepers. Tee felt caught out of time, and Shof didn't understand. "Peace!" Lunzie cried over Shof s exposition of modern intergalactic propulsion. "That's enough. I declare Hatha's peace of the watering hole. I will permit no more disputes in this place."
    Shof opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. He stared at Tee, then looked to Lunzie for help. "Have I said something wrong?"
    "Shof, you can behave yourself or make yourself scarce," Pomayla declared.
    "What'd I do?" With a wounded expression, Shof withdrew to arrange dinner from the synthesizer. Pomayla and Laren went to the worktable, and peeled and cut up a selection of fresh vegetables to supplement the meal. Tee watched them work, looking lost.
    Lunzie rose to her feet. "Now that we have a natural break in the conversation, I'll give Tee the tenth-credit tour." She twined her arm with Tee's and led him away.
    Once the door to Lunzie's cubicle had shut behind them, Tee let his shoulders sag. "I am sorry.