Futura Memoratia

Chapter 7 fatuus (fool)

“So, I notice you aren’t wearing your radio,” Carson said, peering into her face cautiously.

She cleared her throat, grateful he was changing the subject.  “No.  I don’t like to wear it.  Too distracting when I’m trying to work.  Someone’s always looking for someone so I just tune it out and that sort of defeats the purpose of wearing it.  So, I just don’t.”  She froze and her eyes widened.  “Wait, it’s not mandatory, is it?”

He shrugged.  “Well, I don’t know about that, but it does make it difficult to talk to someone when they’re on the other side of the city.”  He raised his eyebrows and looked at her pointedly.

“I suppose it would.” 

“Well, I’ve been very busy the last few days and I’ve been trying to get ahold of you—unsuccessfully.  So, finally, I thought I’d better make an appearance.  You were talking about local foods and cooking and asking Teyla about her culture, so when I was recently invited to attend a feast on New Athos by some of my patients—I thought you might like to come along and sample the local fare?  It’s tomorrow night.”

So that was what he had been going to ask her last week.  She felt relieved.  It was just the friendly kind of gesture she needed to hear right now.  She smiled her appreciation.  “Really?  I would love that!  Thank you, Carson.  That’s just what I need—something different to do.  Some fresh air and new cuisine to try would do me good.”

He smiled.  “Good.  You don’t check your email much either, I don’t suppose?”

She shrugged.  “Guilty.  I can’t imagine that I have any.  I don’t know anyone here.”

He shook his head.  “Well, that just isn’t true.  I’ve sent you some, as a matter of fact, and there are emails sent to everyone about activities going on around the city.  You’ll also be getting emails from your account on Earth from the daily data bursts—they’ll be forwarded to your account here.”

She blinked with surprise.  “Really?  I. . . that makes sense, of course.  I don’t know why I didn’t know that.”

“It was probably in an email,”  he said solemnly.

“Probably.”  She burst out laughing and put a hand to her head.  “I’m such an idiot.  Sitting here, feeling so. . . when there are probably fifty emails from people back home, just waiting for me to read.”

“You know, you have a really lovely laugh.  Very uninhibited.”

“Thanks.”  She looked down at the paper towel she was twisting and knotting in her hand.  “It’s not always my friend.  Well, you saw last week.  Very unprofessional.  Not a good thing at a funeral either, I can tell you.”

He shook his head, smiling.  “No, I imagine that would be a problem.  Well, I was on my way to the mess hall to meet some of the others for a midnight snack.  Want to come along?”

She frowned at him, not understanding.  “Isn’t it closed at this hour?”

“Oh, aye, but they leave out snacks and coffee for the wee night owls among us.”

She smiled broadly.  “Then, yes!  I’m starving—and Rodney ate my sandwich!”

Carson looked baffled.  “You’re on a first name basis and you’re giving him your food and beverages—then am I to take it you two are getting on a mite better now?”  He started heading for the door.

She followed him, thinking back bitterly over the revealing conversation she’d had with Rodney just moments before.  “Yes.  Long story.  He apologized for his behavior the other day, you know.  He said I may have saved the lives of his team today.”