The Backstage Observatory was manned by two low-ep Authors with little better to do with their time, the Cynical Observer, with three eps to his credit, and the Literalist Observer, with one. Their complementary viewpoints tended to balance out each other's observations nicely. They had little helpful to report, however. Apparently there had been some sort of equipment failure the previous night, and the logging equipment had scrambled its data. The Cynical Observer was at a loss to explain what had happened -- it seemed he and his companion were missing about ten hours from their memories...
"Damn!" said Adama, hanging up. "Should've known that would be too easy."
At that point, there was another knock at the front door. He sighed and went to open it.
It was Shackleton. His eyebrows went up at Adama's appearance. "I beg your pardon, Adama, am I interrupting something?"
Adama, looking down, blushed. He was still naked from his night's sleep. MarkT, tactful as always, hadn't deigned to mention the fact. "No," he said, snapping his fingers to materialize some clothing about himself. "Just a little preoccupied. Something odd's been going on, apparently involving the Crays. What brings you here, Mr. Shackleton?"
Shackleton smiled. "The same thing, actually. I understand a number of people have been complaining -- memory lapses, and such. I'm here to set your minds at ease on that score."
Adama's "invisible" companion raised her own eyebrows. Shackleton was hardly the person to set anyone's mind at east about anything.
Adama and MarkT seemingly did not concur. "We would appreciate it if you could," said the latter, and Adama agreed.
Huh? thought the woman. What the--
"It's simple, really," Shackleton explained. "I was doing some necessary maintenance work on the Crays, and accidentally dropped one of the Tharber units as I was removing it from its casing. Naturally, half the alarms on the level went off, and time went wild all over the Ring. It took me quite a while to make the necessary repairs, and by the time I had, about ten hours had been lost."
MarkT frowned. "This is rather serious, Shackleton. I take it you've taken steps to ensure that nothing like this can happen again?"
"Certainly."
"What were you doing on the Cray level in the first place?" the woman blurted.
Shackleton's eyes momentarily flickered her way, even as Adama started to echo "What were you doing on the Cray lev-- wait a minute, what am I saying? Of course you would have been there, it's your job."
MarkT shot the woman a look, as if to say isn't it your job to keep him from muddling things up like this?
Shackleton nodded. "Indeed. Fortunately, no permanent harm was done."
"Can you shed any light on the character cube situation," asked MarkT.
"Five, alas, were damaged by the unit," Shackleton acknowledged. "There was consequently some leakage of orgone, which I was luckily able to staunch. The characters associated with the cubes were inconsequential -- nonetheless, I followed up on the situation. They are now undergoing rehabilitation in the Recovery Sector, even as their cubes are being replaced."
"Satisfactory," said MarkT. "Well, Adama, looks like this was a false alarm. Sorry to roust you out of bed for nothing. Now, if none of you mind, I believe I'll be getting back to my vacation."
"I regret having been responsible for disturbing you," Shackleton intoned soberly.
MarkT shrugged it off. "No harm done. Keeps my on my toes, I guess."
"Have fun," called Adama, waving as MarkT exited the suite and then 'ported back out to Nude Island. He then turned to Shackleton. "As long as you're here," he went on, would you like to discuss those Ring redesign thoughts you brought to me the other day?"
Shackleton shook his head, smiling slightly. "Thank you, no," he said. "Trusting to your agreement, I have already implemented them. The service corridor positioning problem you had has been sorted out in accordance with your wishes, as have the other minor matters we discussed."
"Oh, well done."
"However, I would certainly not object if you offered me some refreshment."
"Oh. Of course. How remiss of me."
The woman looked on in mounting confusion as Adama scuttled off to where he kept the wine.
"I beg your pardon," Shackleton said to her. "I would not have suggested it, but you are plainly in some distress. And alleviating it with your -- what is the proper term? Client? -- client present would have been difficult, at best."
"Yes," the woman said. It was true. When guests tried to speak to her in Adama's presence it tended to disconcert him, she being a rather blank spot in his mind.
"It was the accident on the Cray level, naturally," Shackleton explained. "I have long noticed that you are affected, or not affected, by such matters differently than most denizens of the AddVenture. My conclusion, despite your reticence on the matter, is that you are actually from, and in some matter still in, some other universe. You needn't feel obligated to confirm or deny my supposition. It is merely a working theory, and speculations as to the true nature of reality amuse me."
"Thank you," said the woman archly. She felt no such obligation.
"From one or two hints you let slip," Shackleton went on cooly, "I gather that in your mind the disruption has taken the form of shifting your perceptions slightly to one side in reality -- to an alternative state of the AddVenture, no doubt. One in which I have some other set of responsibilities, perhaps?"
"You might say that," the woman responded, wondering where this was going.
Shackleton nodded sympathetically. "I feared as much," he said. "And I fear I have no easy solution for your condition, not knowing just how your mind interfaces with our universe. I can only suggest you probe Adama in whatever indirect fashion you favor, or possibly some other natural denizen of the AddVenture with whom you are acquainted. I would be happy to answer any questions you might have myself, but unfortunately my responsibilities leave me little discretionary time. Rather as yours do, in that respect." He flashed her an apologetic smile. "Ah!" he said. "Here's our host, returned with the wine."
The woman was not at all satisfied with Shackleton's story, but he was right -- her duties didn't leave her much leeway to probe the situation further. Nor did the situation with the other of her kind, on the loose somewhere in the AddVenture. She waited impatiently for Adama and Shackleton to consume their "refreshment," half resenting the small matters her charge continually called on her to rectify. If I have to guess where he's going to set that glass down one more time, I'll--
Her disquiet caused her to guess wrong for a change, with the result that Adama was left staring stupidly at the shattered remnants of his glass on the floor -- the plate that was to receive it having appeared elsewhere.
Furious with herself, the woman winked out of existence, winking back in a moment later with a whisk broom and dustpan. Whereupon Adama promptly forgot the entire incident, as always.
Shackleton took the opportunity to bid him farewell and see himself out.
The phone rang, and Adama automatically picked it up, listened for a moment, and then muttered "Funny, no one there." He held it out, and the woman took it, smiling slightly. This pattern of behavior indicated that there really was someone there, but the call was for her.
"Go index something," she suggested, and he took her up on the suggestion, without ever even realizing it had been made.
"Hello?" she asked.
Wed Aug 22 15:15:17 2001
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