The New Guy in Moon Base Twelve

Chapter Ten

Fydia Sooth didn't know whether to laugh or merely chuckle. The whole science department was absorbed in a technical analysis of how someone could literally "get on your nerves"! This would revolutionize the field of interpersonal relationships. "Imagine," she said to herself, "if you could wave a gadget at every new person you met and immediately know how aggravating they were going to be!" It hadn't been that bad, had it? Now that the effects of her encounter with The New Guy had pretty much worn off, she was tempted to sneak out of the Base and head on back to Number Twelve by herself. She could wrangle the truth out of him one way or another, she was sure. But she was well aware that the process they all followed here on the moon was paramount. They were in it for the long haul, and everyone, at every moment of decision, had to keep the long view in mind. There was no room for adventurism here, and she was certainly no Trotskyite. Now was not the time for any infantile disorders.

Fydia had always excelled at discipline. This was often the reason her own interpersonal relationships never worked out. She liked ground rules and she insisted on agreements being honored. Trust was essential, and she had never found anyone who could live up to her standards in this area. Yet she was not, as you might expect, a serious person. On the contrary, she was quite light-hearted and liked nothing better than to sing out loud and dance. Here on the moon she took these activities outside, so as not to disturb her barrack-mates, and conducted her SETI broadcasts using the very best noise-canceling headset equipment.

The search for extraterrestrials was her other great hobby and passion, and she had official sanction to perform that function here. Rather than broadcast random or regular patterns, or mathematical equations, or fractal sequences, or other such sophisticated notions as dominated the academic approach, Fydia believed in the transcendent attraction power of music. Besides, she would often say, any alien that doesn't dance isn't really worth contacting anyway. She focused her beams on the basis of galactic background radiation, following a color theory of her own invention. Certain types of music were more likely to be receptive in appropriately filtered settings. This was merely an extension of consumer theory back home, where pink walls and light jazz went together in high-end bistros, and throbbing electronica seemed to pair well with flashing neon in blackness.

She had numerous patents in her name to this effect, and had already demonstrated an extraordinary ability to attract various animals through unlikely renditions. Her work had made for happier zoos and theme parks, as well as serving as the foundation for several new trends in popular music. Fydia was both famous on Earth and well-liked on the Moon, and since she intended to keep it that way, she did not give in to her instincts and rush out to confront The New Guy solo. Instead, she sat in her cubicle and pondered. She thought about her recent experience and tried to associate what she had felt with some other sensation from her life. The closest she came was how it felt when she had a song stuck in her head, a song she didn't even like and couldn't get rid of. "Yes," she told herself, "that's exactly what it was like." Her next though was whether that condition could be objectively studied and measured, and if so, if it were possible to develop a cure. That would be worthy of another patent for sure, not to mention another excellent opportunity to make the world an even better place.

It so happened that her most recent ex-girlfriend, Pina Peru, was not only an excellent neurologist, but was also right there, in Moon Base One. Fydia pinged her, and before long had presented her concept. Pina, a normal-sized person who had never gotten used to Fydia's rather imposing height, was still very fond of her, even though she'd been the one to break off the relationship. There had been no hard feelings, and Pina was excited to try this new experiment. All Fydia had to do was commit to lying completely still inside a 'mental echo chamber' while having a horrible tune lodged in her brain. Fydia had selected a truly grating oldie, a song called 'Waterloo' by a thing called ABBA. She lay perfectly placidly in the chamber and let the dull, repetitive, silly chorus swirl around and around in her mind. In the meantime, Pina recorded every synapse and cortex and and filament in Fydia's head.

Pina gathered the other scientists and they compared notes from the measurements made earlier from The New Guy encounter team. There were definitely some pattern matches. Fydia's temperamental lobes were displaying the same corrosion and grinding as had been seen on the tips of Galen's fingers, and from just behind Gelano's right knee ligaments. But although these similarities were clear, it wasn't at all obvious what could be made of it. The immediate problem was protection, rather than prevention. They needed to find some kind of shielding, and even Pina had to conclude that the 'song' approach was more long-term than immediate in terms of potential benefit. Fydia was disappointed, but not downhearted. Once she got that idiotic tune out of her head, she was certain she'd come up with another good idea.