The Sum of Her Parts Read Online Free PDF Page B

self-inflicted injury. Checking to ensure that the camouflage fabric that formed the roof over their heads was secure at the edges so that no light would leak out, he brought out a small coldcandle and rubbed it to life. Settling himself in a low-slung folding chair, his gaze roved from one guest to the other.
    “Now then,” he began firmly, “I want to know all about current local politics. By local I mean the SAEC, points north, and relevant international relations. This is my home and it’s useful to occasionally know how it’s being treated.”
    Whispr looked helplessly at Ingrid. With a sigh, she began relating what she could recall from the last news she could remember reading. Fortunately the soft-voiced give and take between her and their host did not last long, and the three of them were soon fast asleep in a landscape of such complete silence that it was almost painful.
    C LIMATE-WISE, MORNING SAW AN exact repetition of the day before, and the day before that.
    “There
are
seasonal changes here.” Barnato was finishing the breakfast he had prepared. “Mostly when the fogs make it this far inland. Then, desert or not, you can have some really cold mornings. But it sure is good for water extraction.”
    Ingrid nodded and rose. “Thank you for your hospitality, for thefood, for the conversation: for everything. But we really need to be on our way.”
    “That’s all right.” Putting his eating utensils aside he turned and scuttled to the far end of the excavation that was his home. When he returned it was with one fist clenched.
    “You’ve both been very kind to a solitary old fool. So I’d like to give you something.” Though he was speaking only to Ingrid, Whispr was not offended. Had their situations been reversed he would have done exactly the same.
    “You’re the prettiest woman I’ve seen in some time. Hell,” he said, chuckling, “you’re the only woman I’ve seen in some time. I told you I like pretty rocks. Maybe you do too.” Opening his palm he passed her a rough, shiny stone about the size of her eye and the color of cranberry lipstick. “I’d like you to have it. Because I like giving stones away and because I’d like you to remember me.” His gaze rose slightly. “It’s a little too dark to match your hair.”
    Taking it from him she held it up to the light and made a show of studying the badly scratched present. The least she could do was humor him. She could toss it away later, somewhere safely distant along their route.
    “It’s very pretty. Thank you, Pul.” She made a small ceremony out of putting it in her backpack.
    Later, looking rearward as they resumed their march to the north, she could see the old prospector standing atop the edge of his simple underground dwelling. He was waving to them with all four of his arms: two sporting hands and two maniped digging melds. She returned his wave.
    “What a way to waste a life.” Whispr was not looking back and not waving. “Living in a hole in the ground, surviving on scraps and bugs, slaving away at manual labor for nothing.” He nodded curtly toward her pack. “I was hoping he might give you somethingworthwhile, but clearly in all his years of wasting away out here he hasn’t found anything.”
    “Yes he has, Whispr,” she countered. “He’s found happiness. Most people dig for that their whole lives and never strike pay dirt.”
    Her companion shook his head sadly. “You and I have always had different definitions of both happiness and pay dirt, doc. Me, I would’ve liked to have gotten something salable. Not a worthless pebble. You gonna keep it? I shouldn’t have to tell you by now that the farther you walk the heavier every gram gets.”
    She returned her gaze forward. “I don’t know if I’ll keep it or not. Maybe it’s not worth anything, but I like the color. As far as weight goes, the more of our food we eat, the lighter our packs get.” She indicated the programmed line they were following.