Tuning William - Fuzzy Bones

Helton finally caught Christiana's eye at the same time he saw Rainsford-whom he recognized-working through the crowd, followed by a tall, slender gentlemen whom he did not recognize. Helton winked at her, as if to say "Nice going."

She hesitated a moment until she recognized him, then frowned and squinted worriedly as she realized Helton was the only person in the room full of highly-placed officials and powerful men who knew of her previously avowed trade. But she sensed he had no intention of meddling in her life, smiled happily at him, and turned back to the conversation.

Judge Pendarvis caught the exchange between them, watching it over the top of Ben Rainsford's head. He hadn't spent a lifetime in the theater of the courtroom without learning to spot minute subtleties of human reaction.

As they drew closer to the foyer, Helton heard Rainsford say back over his shoulder,"Some poppycock about removing artifacts from the planetary surface.

I want you to see if it's legal before I sign anything."

Helton and Judge Pendarvis were introduced.

"Ah," Helton said, shaking hands, "the man who changed the history of Zarathustra," he said. "Your name looms large on the lips of law professors in Terran universities these days. An honor to meet you, sir."

"I was only following the law as I saw it, Sergeant Helton," Pendarvis said.

He waved his hand toward a door. "Shall we step into my study?"

Once inside the comfortable, booklined room, Pendarvis stopped short. "How rude of me, "he said. "Would you like a drink, Sergeant?"

"No, thank you, Judge," Helton said. "My day isn't over yet. I have to get back to Beta tonight."

"Of course," Pendarvis replied. "I understand." He took the folio which Helton handed him and sat down at his desk.

While Pendarvis and Rainsford were going over the paperwork, with occasional pointing at paragraphs by Rainsford, accompanied by the question, "Is that legal?" Helton stood and looked at the books. One didn't often see old books anymore, made of paper, with pages that had to be turned manually. They took up too much space when compared with chips designed to be put through a readout screen. Helton loved the smell of them. He moved slowly down the shelves, stopping occasionally to look at the titles, with his hands clasped behind his back, and rocked up and down slightly on the balls of his feet. It must have cost a fortune to ship these things out here, unless some Zarathustran antiquarian was actually running a printing plant on the planet.

"This is all in order, Ben," Pendarvis said. "Ink it in the spots indicated.

I've extracted your copies." He got to his feet and picked up the slender panetella from his ashtray. "Do you like books, Sergeant?" he asked Helton.

Helton started slightly, then turned abruptly with a grin. "Very much, Judge.

Very much.

"There is no frigate like a book To take us lands away, Nor any corsairs like a page Of prancing poetry.'"

"Well said," Pendarvis replied. He sighed. "Would that more people thought so." He walked over to where Helton stood, and ran his hand over one of the shelves. "I rather thought you did, from the meticulous way you had prepared and arranged the papers in the folio. Only one misplaced comma, which I corrected."

Rainsford joined them and handed the folio back to Helton, who opened it, went

briefly through the papers, pausing for a moment to note the Judge's correction.

"I believe you're right, sir," Helton said. "It could go either way, but I think this usage makes better sense."

Rainsford jerked his pipe from his bush jacket pocket and fired it up. "What is this?" he demanded. "Federation business or a grammar class?"

Pendarvis smiled benignly at him. "Ben," he said,"did I ever tell you 'The Pendarvis Theory of Technology?' "

Rainsford shook his head while he began to produce huge clouds of smoke from the pipe.

"You'll likely enjoy this, too, Sergeant," Pendarvis said to Helton. "Simply put, it is my theory that everything wrong with everything is the fault of language teachers."

Helton leaned forward attentively.

"If a child is taught," Pendarvis said, "that it's all right if you mis-spell a word occasionally, or don't always punctuate exactly correctly, then you are teaching that child that small mistakes are okay, as long as people know pretty much what is meant. I feel this is a dangerous attitude to foster in a highly technological society, because it encourages people to think 'Well, after all, the readout is only alittle bit over into the red zone. Maybe it will return to normal while I'm trying to remember which way to adjust the control. Let's see, now, was that to the left or to the right. . .' Do you agree?"

Helton nodded. "Absolutely, Judge. The commonest criticism of my evaluations revolve around my being too particular about details, but I say almost on target is no better than missing it by a million miles."

"Where will the scientific method turn up next?" Rainsford snorted.

Pendarvis shook hands warmly with Helton. "Well, I know you have a great deal left to do tonight, Sergeant. I don't want to keep you from it, and I must get back to my guests. However, next time you are in Mallorysport, will you do us the honor of paying a call on Mrs. Pendarvis and myself? We have a good deal to talk about, I suspect."

"I'd be honored, sir," Helton said. "I'll screen ahead." He turned and shook hands with Rainsford. "Thank you for your time, Governor."

Rainsford waved his pipe vaguely."No trouble at all," he said as Pendarvis ushered them from his study to the foyer.

After another round of goodbyes, Helton caught a second glimpse of Christiana, sitting on an ottoman, talking and laughing with four Fuzzies. Lovely girl, really. This is certainly a better environment for her than Junktown. She was never cut out for that kind of life, anyway.

After Helton had departed, Pendarvis closed the door and beckoned Rainsford to follow him back to the study. He went to the sideboard and poured them both a small brandy. He handed one to Rainsford and stood, silent, for a moment, staring into the distance and reflectively sluicing the brandy around in the snifter with a slow circular motion of his hand. Finally, he turned to Rainsford. "Who would have thought it, Ben," he said. Then, more musing to

himself than talking to Rainsford; "An educated man and a gentleman-in Marine field greens." He took a small sip of his brandy and fixed his gaze on a painting over the fireplace. "And wearing stripes on his sleeve," he continued. Pendarvis frowned. "Not an officer at all," he said. Still staring at the painting: "What do you make of it, Ben? It's another inexplicable paradox of the human spirit-one that had never crossed my mind until just now."

"I'll admit it's at least unusual," Rainsford said, "to find a career Marine and an educated man both living inside the same skin, but I don't know that I would call it a paradox. The factual universe is largely made up of paradoxes."

Pendarvis sighed and set his glass down on the sideboard. "I suppose you're right," he said, "but it's still quite a revelation-to me, at least. Well, let's get back into the bull-pen."

"That's more like it," Rainsford said enthustiastically. "I 've just about got old man Buchanan whipped into shape so he thinks he's made up his mind to take a position and stick it out."

Outside in the corridor, Helton waited for the lift that would take him back down to the landing stage. He looked up and down, to make sure no one was watching, then danced a little jig and sang to himself: When I was a young man I lived all alone, And never saw a lady I wanted to own.

Spelvin and Diehl were all smiles when they came out of Raul Laporte's office-a contrast to their usual appearance after the usual fierce tongue-lashing from Laporte.