Edmund University had Elaki faculty members, but not very many. The boy behind the desk was young. Most likely, David decided, a student on a work/study scholarship. He wore blue jeans, and squinted over a book on physical anthropology when he wasn’t answering the phone or admitting ignorance to people’s questions. He had a trace of acne, innocent blue eyes, and a tendency to push the wrong button and disconnect people when the phone rang. Every time the kid screwed up, David felt a twinge of satisfaction. He was beginning to cherish human incompetence. Mel was humming. David could not quite recognize the tune. String was quiet in the corner, and no one stared at him. Elaki were part of the fabric of the university. As were humans. String had that stillness about him, that look of waiting, of patience, the Elaki ability to go inside himself. Becoming one, they called it. Mel always said one what. David cleared his throat. He glanced back at the coffee table. His choices were Package Gourmet, the December issue, and the latest Saigo City!, the smarmy local glossy.
