A Princess of The Linear Jungle Read Online Free PDF

raggedly handsome Ransome glum; and exotic Bentoan Yun imperturbable. On impulse, Merritt hailed them, and they detoured somewhat reluctantly to her table.
    Ransome could not meet her eyes, merely nodding and saying, Mer.” Adams eyed her sandwich as if famished. Yun spoke with frosty precision. “Miss Abraham, did you need us for anything in particular?”
    “No. Just a friendly hello.”
    “Appreciated, I’m sure.” Yun sized her up with chilly clinical exactitude, as if she were a bug pinned to a tray. “Perhaps we’ll have the chance to host you at another party soon. But meanwhile, we have our anatomy homework to attend to. Goodbye.”
    As the three med students departed, Ransome cast a forlorn backwards glance at Merritt that seemed to implore her for some sort of nebulous help. She did not know how to respond.
    The small conference room in Gilles Gauthier Hall hosted only twelve or so of Merritt’s fellow polyps—this was a grad-level course after all, no auditorium-filling “Polypolisology 101”—seated down one side of a long battered wooden table bearing pen-knife carvings from several generations of daydreaming students. Steam radiators feebly practiced their hissing against the mild chill, as if gaining confidence for the winter ahead. The lectern at the front of the room stood yet untenanted.
    Merritt settled down in an empty chair positioned conspicuously atone short end of the table. She lofted her hair with her fingers, wishing she had had time to go home and wash it after work, and perhaps change her top to something less NikThek drone.
    Professor Arturo Scoria entered just as she finished primping.
    Wearing a scratched leather vest over a blue denim shirt (unbuttoned enough to reveal copious chest hair), a pair of hemp duck-cloth pants and scuffed boots appropriated from a Trainman’s uniform, Professor Scoria more resembled some roustabout with one of the traveling sideshows that went up and down the Linear City than he did a respected maven of that essential discipline which scientifically weighed and categorized all the million cultures of the Linear City against each other.
    Professor Scoria possessed a booming voice and informal tone. “Evening, polyps!”
    The class responded pleasantly and heartily. Merritt, lagging a bit behind the others due to excessive staring at her teacher, was disconcerted to hear her unwontedly high-pitched voice continuing to squeak out alone at the end of the mass greeting. But Professor Scoria just smiled benignly right at her, and made no reference to her faux pas.
    “I hope you all read as far as Chapter Ten, ‘Ritual Scarification and Me…’ Excellent! Well, let’s talk a little about the clan-bonding index and exogamy among the Papoons and similar cultures.”
    Leaning forward and gripping the sides of his lectern as if clutching one of the Wild Sacristans of Syndicus who had famously attacked the visiting polypolisologist for unintentionally making heretical comments, as described in Seven Scandalous Weeks in Syndicus , Professor Arturo Scoria launched into an elaborate and fascinating disquisition on his topic, sans notes of any sort.
    Merritt raised her hand at one point and, receiving a nod, asked, “Professor Scoria, isn’t that type of behavior most vividly exemplified by the Amaury of Newelpost?”
    Professor Scoria slapped the lectern with open palm, producing a boom that made everyone jump. “Precisely the best exemplum! Miss Abraham, you have a mind like a Strathspey mantrap! And packaged even more alluringly, if I may say so.”
    Scoria winked broadly, as if to defuse the compliment and render it just a genial witticism, but Merritt still blushed.
    When the lecture had ended, and the rest of the students were filing out, Merritt hung back. Professor Scoria seemed eagerly to anticipate this action. He stepped intimately close to Merritt before speaking. She smelled leather and a unique spicy cologne.
    “Miss Abraham, have I told you yet