This is But One Fragment Five Hundred Words Long Constituting Part of Something Much Larger, With At Least One New Episode Per Week, And May Be What We Call A Serialized Novella.

Nacks gets really quiet for most of the next day because Timo is still missing. She tells us that she had stopped at his building last night after she left the lab and no one answered the buzzer. I try to cheer her by prompting up that privately rehearsed conversation about my tea with Nusci a few days prior, but she isn’t particularly interested.  A non-starter. I’m fairly certain she and Nusci never really got on very well.

Ving is interested. Ving has this way of emotionally distancing himself from these sorts of issues that trouble the rest of us. And he has completely forgotten about last night’s conversation with Klaas. Ving is vague. Ving would make a good Ranker.

“She cried?” He asks.

I’ve just finished reciting the anecdote I’ve had bottled up for days. “I didn’t know what to say.” I consider that I might be exaggerating the particulars of the circumstance, but dismiss the notion and continue. “She was a complete wreck. We sat for an hour drinking teas and talking about trivial — trivial nothings.”

“She actually cried?” Ving is shaking his head in satisfied disbelief.

“It was unyielding. ‘Oh, Moze, did you see that dress in the window of Lettermy’s?’” I mock, pinky-lifting an invisible teacup. “‘Oh, Moze, did I tell you about my darling experience with the food courts on the March last week?’ Positively unrelenting. If I’d have known it would degrade into a girlish gossip fair, I would have found another way to spend my sixnight eve.”

“I really do feel sorry for you.” Ving says. “What happened?”

“She’s evolved. Or so she would have us think.” Yes. Yes, I’m certain that is it.

“Not just one of the guys, anymore?” He flinches. “Yeah, sorry.”

I’d prefer it. “Anything but one of the guys. In fact — ” I say. “In fact, I made the mistake of putting her onto that exact topic. She is the only girl in her Voxing group and wears it on her sleeve. Wears it with disdain.”

“She would have known.”

“Known, yes.” I add. “Understood the implications? I mean, I get it. Not many girls are promoted into Voxing jobs. It ain’t right, but all I can do is button down and Clock a little better.”

“And you do –”

“Shut up.” I scold. “I get it. I thought Nusci got it. She –” I shake my head. “She fought for that job. Fids! If I’d have stood in her way a season or two back I would have had it in for certain. She would have sent a bot after me while I slept, no doubt. But now –”

“Is it over, then?” Ving crooks his eyebrows, curious.

“Hardly.” I recall the precise, obtuse indifference to my polite excuses. “We’re meeting again this coming sixnight eve. She wouldn’t let me out. We’re — ” the words get stuck in my throat. “– we’re friends now.”

“You don’t need to say it like that.”