question did not involve any variant of the pious sentiment, ‘So that I could invest my whole heart and soul in the curatorial process, fashioning the most stimulating and enlightening exhibits possible for the curious and deserving public.’”
Merritt realized she had made an impolitic gaffe. “But I do want to create wonderful exhibits, Professor, I really do.”
“Miss Abraham, let us not dissemble. Your job here is merely a steppingstone to something greater. You have no real interest in making the NikThek your permanent career. You have hopes of achieving something greater with your life, ambitions to make a mark in your chosen field of study, and the talent to back up those dreams. You will stay with us just so long as it suits you, acquiring knowledge and contacts as a sponge soaks up spilled wine. Then you will depart, with nary a backward glance or thought for our fusty old museum. At least until some years have passed, whereupon you might experience some nostalgia for these early days of painful striving.”
Flustered, Merritt pondered how to respond. Impulsively, she pinned Professor Chambless with a steely gaze and said boldly, “That is absolutely correct.”
Chambless stood, and Merritt prepared to be informed of her dismissal.
“Miss Abraham, you are precisely the kind of person I am happy tomentor. You may count on me for any assistance toward your noble goals. But please, I ask only that during our days together, of whatever duration, all your assignments be completed by deadline, and manifest all your considerable skills.”
Merritt began to weep. Professor Chambless came around the desk and laid a companionable bony arm across her shoulders, and handed her a square of embroidered fabric. Merritt mentally catalogued the piece as a ceremonial menstrual cloth from the Borough of Gartonstolz. She blew her nose on it nonetheless.
“Dry your eyes, Miss Abraham. The Throy Diaries beckon, and there are still the Squillacote scrimshaws to consider.”
Merritt complied. Professor Chambless said, “Do you have any family back in Stagwitz, my dear?”
“No, none. I was orphaned from birth.”
“And have you made many new friends here in Wharton?”
“Not a one.”
“Well, I suggest that you include a little room for fun and relaxation in your program, Miss Abraham. All work and no play makes Vasuki spew poison, as we all can attest.”
3.
OFF WORK
AS A PRESTIGIOUS UNIVERSITY BOROUGH, WHOSE reputation had spread far Uptown and Downtown, Wharton drew newcomers from afar and boasted a decidedly heterogenous population, more so than many another segment of the Linear City, including Merritt’s stuffy home of Stagwitz. In her daily rounds—and this was an admittedly limited itinerary, generally including only her lonely, cloistered apartment, the NikThek, and either Marley’s corner grocery store (home to economical stuffed grape leaves and potent plonk atone bull the bottle) or a cheap greasyspoon such as the Termite Terrace—Merritt passed in the street dark-skinned natives of Alms-grave; almond-eyed, honey-complected expatriates of Bento; veiled men and topless women from Quercus Major; and a plethora of other exotic types, rendered so by appearance, accent, attitude, or some combination of the three.
Given this wealth of potential comrades and lovers, representing a huge spectrum of congeniality and worldviews, Merritt initially felt that she should have no trouble finding a congenial social set. But for one reason or another—her own skittish hesitancy and vocational intensity, or the clannishness of those far from their own homes—she simply could not—at least in her first two months residence—make a dent in any of these convivial circles.
Not being a student, she had no access to collegiate circuits, nor was she enticed by her fellow employees at the NikThek (a musty bunch, truth be told, too long immured in spider webbed archives).
Consequently, when she sought to
Merritt realized she had made an impolitic gaffe. “But I do want to create wonderful exhibits, Professor, I really do.”
“Miss Abraham, let us not dissemble. Your job here is merely a steppingstone to something greater. You have no real interest in making the NikThek your permanent career. You have hopes of achieving something greater with your life, ambitions to make a mark in your chosen field of study, and the talent to back up those dreams. You will stay with us just so long as it suits you, acquiring knowledge and contacts as a sponge soaks up spilled wine. Then you will depart, with nary a backward glance or thought for our fusty old museum. At least until some years have passed, whereupon you might experience some nostalgia for these early days of painful striving.”
Flustered, Merritt pondered how to respond. Impulsively, she pinned Professor Chambless with a steely gaze and said boldly, “That is absolutely correct.”
Chambless stood, and Merritt prepared to be informed of her dismissal.
“Miss Abraham, you are precisely the kind of person I am happy tomentor. You may count on me for any assistance toward your noble goals. But please, I ask only that during our days together, of whatever duration, all your assignments be completed by deadline, and manifest all your considerable skills.”
Merritt began to weep. Professor Chambless came around the desk and laid a companionable bony arm across her shoulders, and handed her a square of embroidered fabric. Merritt mentally catalogued the piece as a ceremonial menstrual cloth from the Borough of Gartonstolz. She blew her nose on it nonetheless.
“Dry your eyes, Miss Abraham. The Throy Diaries beckon, and there are still the Squillacote scrimshaws to consider.”
Merritt complied. Professor Chambless said, “Do you have any family back in Stagwitz, my dear?”
“No, none. I was orphaned from birth.”
“And have you made many new friends here in Wharton?”
“Not a one.”
“Well, I suggest that you include a little room for fun and relaxation in your program, Miss Abraham. All work and no play makes Vasuki spew poison, as we all can attest.”
3.
OFF WORK
AS A PRESTIGIOUS UNIVERSITY BOROUGH, WHOSE reputation had spread far Uptown and Downtown, Wharton drew newcomers from afar and boasted a decidedly heterogenous population, more so than many another segment of the Linear City, including Merritt’s stuffy home of Stagwitz. In her daily rounds—and this was an admittedly limited itinerary, generally including only her lonely, cloistered apartment, the NikThek, and either Marley’s corner grocery store (home to economical stuffed grape leaves and potent plonk atone bull the bottle) or a cheap greasyspoon such as the Termite Terrace—Merritt passed in the street dark-skinned natives of Alms-grave; almond-eyed, honey-complected expatriates of Bento; veiled men and topless women from Quercus Major; and a plethora of other exotic types, rendered so by appearance, accent, attitude, or some combination of the three.
Given this wealth of potential comrades and lovers, representing a huge spectrum of congeniality and worldviews, Merritt initially felt that she should have no trouble finding a congenial social set. But for one reason or another—her own skittish hesitancy and vocational intensity, or the clannishness of those far from their own homes—she simply could not—at least in her first two months residence—make a dent in any of these convivial circles.
Not being a student, she had no access to collegiate circuits, nor was she enticed by her fellow employees at the NikThek (a musty bunch, truth be told, too long immured in spider webbed archives).
Consequently, when she sought to
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