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The next class in pre-jump Earth literature occurs.
Frank is early, actually. He sits at his desk with a large smile on his face, greeting students by name despite the slight hints of red around his eyes and the prominent box of tissues that have mysteriously appeared within easy reach.
It is probable that he cried, but hard to prove considering the evidence.
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thisvorlunatic
Well, then, by all means introduce me to your sister. I don't have another class after this either.
Okay then. Sisterly introductions. I'll let her know.
Convenient thing about having computer terminals in class: she can send a message to her sister, asking if she wants to meet Miles.
Answer: why yes! Yes she does.
Convenient thing about having computer terminals in class: she can send a message to her sister, asking if she wants to meet Miles.
Answer: why yes! Yes she does.
Class discussion continues.
"... Well, I think," says a student rather loudly, "That the ideas behind the poem are pretty telling of the technology level of where it came from - if they had implants and sexuality therapists, I bet the poem wouldn't be half as against the subject."
"... Well, I think," says a student rather loudly, "That the ideas behind the poem are pretty telling of the technology level of where it came from - if they had implants and sexuality therapists, I bet the poem wouldn't be half as against the subject."
thisvorlunatic
"LPSTs and contraceptive implants aren't some kind of inviolable magical charm against anyone ever having bad experiences with sex," says Miles, finally goaded into speaking up. "I think you're all vastly underestimating the complexity of the writer's intent if you interpret the poem as a straightforward assertion of universal fact. The point is not that it's like this for everyone all the time; the point is that it can be like this for many people some of the time. Regardless of the presence or absence of therapists."
"I mean, maybe it happens sometimes but it can't be as common anymore, the poem's lost a lot of the applicability in this modern age," says the loud student.
"Well!" says Frank, to a stunned classroom. "Why don't we remember this as a reason to not make assumptions and also move onto the next poem now please!"
It's all right. I'm not upset with you, she clarifies. Nor do I disagree. Just the - situation is unpleasant. I wish you were not in a room full of Betans try to tell you that - I don't even know how to word it, 'We are better and so the things associated with this poem do not happen, you do not exist, all is well, the delusion is secure.'
thisvorlunatic
I confess I actually kind of enjoyed the opportunity to make everyone in the room deeply uncomfortable.
thisvorlunatic
I should probably be kinder to the poor sheltered Betans who don't know any better, but God, it's just so satisfying. If they insist on denying my experience then let them reap what they sow, you know?
Hm, I don't know. I'm more concerned about what they might take away from it? I'm worried that they will think it's Barrayar that is responsible for your experience, and use that to feed the delusion some more.
thisvorlunatic
Unfortunately he didn't give me an opportunity to clarify, or I happily would have.
thisvorlunatic
Presumably you're becoming familiar with my vicious sense of humour. I promise I'm much nicer when I'm not so miserable.
Most people are much nicer when they're not miserable. She considers writing 'I am impressed that you are nice at all when you're miserable' but thinks that might be some brand of impolite.
I get cranky and lose my filter, she volunteers instead. So I am both thinking less charitably and also more willing to say the less charitable things.
I get cranky and lose my filter, she volunteers instead. So I am both thinking less charitably and also more willing to say the less charitable things.
thisvorlunatic
I have a wide selection of bad moods. Exercising my vicious sense of humour is more enjoyable than many of the alternatives, but I probably shouldn't give it as much free rein as I do, even so.
Snort.
Eventually, class ends. No one else is quite as obnoxious.
"Sabine's meeting us at the nearby arboretum," she informs him. "And you have my permission to rant at me."
Eventually, class ends. No one else is quite as obnoxious.
"Sabine's meeting us at the nearby arboretum," she informs him. "And you have my permission to rant at me."
thisvorlunatic
"Smug Betan assholes piss me off. End rant," snorts Miles. "All right, let's go collect Sergeant Bothari and find your arboretum."
"What a detailed and nuanced rant," says Yvette. "Where do we collect Sergeant Bothari?"