Tuning William - Fuzzy Bones

It goes on to suggest that they may be more intelligent than we are."

That idea sharply divided everyone into two camps.

"That can't be true! They have no technology!"

"Maybe they don't want any."

"Right! Just because we're machine-crazy doesn't make that attribute a pre-condition of intelligence."

' "They may just be at a different stage of development and evolution."

"-Or evolving at a more leisurely rate."

"The odds would favor something along those lines. In five hundred years this is the eighth sapient race we've encountered, and they are all behind us in general intelligence and development."

"From the Yggdrasil Khooghra at one end to the Thorans at the other," someone else added.

"Sure," the strawberry blonde said, picking it up. "I think it's about time we ran across a race that's more advanced than we are. Maybe they could teach me how to run a vocowriter by just thinking at it-save wearing out my voice."

Everyone laughed. The argument was over.

The musicians came back from their break. Several people drifted away from the group toward the dance floor- including Juan Jimenez and Liana Bell.

Presently, everyone was gone from around the big lawn table except the strawberry blonde-and Diamond and Little Fuzzy, sitting on the edge of the table.

Little Fuzzy knocked out his pipe on the edge of the table, then blew air through the stem, just the way he had seen Pappy Jack do it.

The young woman was looking up at the stars. She didn't notice Little Fuzzy put the pipe away in his shodda-bag and walk across the table top. When he touched her hair with his tiny hand, it startled her.

He studied her with his wide, appealing eyes. "Shu hassa," he said. "No hu'ttsu. Are you amam'a', too?"

She smiled at him. "Yes, I'm a mammal, too."

Diamond joined them, with his hands clasped behind his back, and studied her intensely. "You got funny fur," he said. "A'most same as Auntie Sand'a.

Why is?"

For a moment, she was flustered. This was her first close meeting with Fuzzies. It took a moment for her to realize Diamond was asking about her hair-almost the same color as Sandra's, but more pale.

"Hair," she said.

"We call it hair."

Diamond, too, reached out to feel the texture of her hair. "Fuzzies' fur all same color," he said. "Why Hagga have all different colors?"

You know, she thought, they may be smarter than we are. There's certainly nothing wrong with their curiosity about things. "Well, you see," she said,

"it's like this. You've noticed we have different-color eyes, too?"

They both nodded solemnly.

"It depends on what color hair and eyes your parents had-and your grandparents

. . ."

It was getting on into the evening. Victor Grego had long since shed his swallowtail coat and loosened his neckcloth. He was circulating among the guests in his shirtsleeves and vest, urging them to polish off anything and everything that was left to eat or drink.

He stopped short when just within earshot of the table where Diamond and Little Fuzzy were now sitting crosslegged and listening with rapt attention.

Then, he spun on his heel and bustled back into the penthouse, where Ahmed and Sandra were exchanging pleasantries with some departing guests.

"Excuse me," he said. "Sandra, come over here to the terrace doors a moment."

Sandra Khadra excused herself and went to stand with him.

"You see that young lady over there?" he asked.

"The one talking to Diamond and Little Fuzzy?" Sandra nodded affirmatively.

"Does she work for the Company? I've never seen her before, but there are a lot of people who work for me who I wouldn't know now if I met them coming down the esplanada."

Sandra peered across the softly-lit terrace. "Well, I don't know her. At least, not from this distance."

Grego looked about hastily. "Where's Myra? Has she left yet? She'11 know."

"Mr. Grego! What's this all about?" Grego made a gesture of impatience. "Now that the wedding has been committed, you can call me 'Daddy,' " he said.

"Would you help me look for Myra, please? I'll look on the south terrace and meet you back here."

A few moments later, he came huffing back to the terrace doors.

"Notthere,"he said. "Oh, there you are. You found her. Good, good."

"What's the matter, Mr. Grego?" Myra echoed. "It's some big mystery he's concocted," Sandra said. "Faugh!" Grego snapped. "Myra, who's that young lady over there talking to Diamond and Little Fuzzy? Does she work for the Company?"

Myra squinted; then a look of recognition came over her face. "Why, Mr.

Grego," she said. "That's the assistant I hired to help with the plans for the wedding. I was thinking about putting her on the reception desk, now. She seems to be very good with people, and-"

Grego cut her short. "Thank you, Myra. I'll explain tomorrow. Sandra, come with me, please."

He led Sandra across the terrace-out of sight of the three at the big table.

As they neared the group, he put his finger to his lips and touched his ear.

Sandra was exasperated by now, but she kept quiet and listened.

"... So, you see, guys, that both my parents and Sandra's parents had a recessive gene for red hair, but my parents had a dominant gene for blonde hair and hers had a dominant for either brown or black. Do you see how that works, now?"

Both Fuzzies nodded.

"And, who was it, again, who first formulated the scientific law that all genetics is based on?"

"Geggo Menda," Diamond said quickly.

"Right," she said. "Mendel. First century, Pre-Atomic. Now, how long was it before any really significant research was done in genetics?" She pointed to Little Fuzzy.

"Many-many," he said.

"Come on, now, Little Fuzzy," she chided gently. "I explained how Hagga measure time. Now, how many years?"

Little Fuzzy screwed up his face for a moment. Number concepts were still pretty mysterious to him."Hundedd-fifty yiss," he finally said.

"Do you hear that?" Grego whispered to Sandra. "She's teaching them genetics."

"So?" Sandra said.

Grego grimaced. "They're getting it. They're getting it. They understand the theory. She's explained it so it's understandable to a Fuzzy."

He took Sandra by the hand and led her out into the light. "Good evening," he said.

"Heyo, Pappy Vic," Diamond said enthusiastically. He jumped up and took a step toward the strawberry blonde, then put his little hand on her shoulder.

"She teach us why Fuzzy-fur always same color and Hagga-fur different colors."

"Hair," she corrected.

"Yes-heh-yeh," Little Fuzzy said. "Hair," she said again, attempting to correct the pronunciation.

"That's what I said-" Little Fuzzy blustered. Heh-yeh."

"She's nHoksu-Hagga," Diamond said. Wonderful Big One.

"I think you're right, Diamond," Grego said. "Young woman, I understand you work for the Charterless Zarathustra Company."

She nodded.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked. "Of course," she replied. "You're Mr.

Grego, the Manager-in-Chief."

"Precisely," he said. "Mrs. Khadra, here, used to be my Fuzzy-Sitter-in-Chief-until she allowed herself to be dragged away by something as piffling as matrimony." Sandra snorted derisively.

"However," Grego continued, "my philosphy is that in every disaster is the seed of its resolution and improvement."

The strawberry blonde frowned and pursed her lips. "I don't think I'm following you, Mr. Grego."

Grego pulled his chin back so it almost touched his collarbone. "Why, I'm appointing you new Fuzzy-Sitter-in-Chief. Ten percent raise in salary, effective this morning."

Sandra laughed. "Very scientific," she said.

Grego remained unruffled.

"See Myra in the morning," he said. "She'll without doubt have a bunch of papers for you to fill out. Then, come straight up here. Mrs. Khadra will brief you on the job for a couple of days." He looked at Sandra. "Will 1030