8th July 2012
22:37 GMT
"Hello?
"
Okay, so far I don't like how places away from Earth handle reception. The lobby of a major political party should have at least three people available to handle drop-ins during the working day, whereas here they have precisely
none. Sure,
I can still
see where everyone is as this is a thaumically dead world and no one has any shielding, and Lantern Gozzi could find them with a ring scan, but where would they be if a local journalist turned up?
I've a good mind to have a word with their manager.
"Hello!?
"
Lantern Gozzi's eyes
flash orange.
"I think they may have misunderstood your intent."
That
is quite a lot of yellow.
"If I go after them, do you think they'll be amenable to reason, or just panic more?
"
She gives me a slightly puzzled look.
"Rings can load huge amounts of data to your brain if you want them to. I
can do it, but as a Coluan you're much better able to cope with it than me. And as you have better social skills than Clarissi Dox…
"
Her eyes are already flickering, so I wait for a decision.
"
Raids on political groups are unusual, though not unheard of." She blinks, her eyes clearing. "I surmise that they're mostly concerned because we're aliens."
"That's simple enough to fix, then.
"
A wave of orange washes over my body, changing my outward appearance to match the locals. Horns are…
Weird.
"They're almost certainly watching the internal feeds. They'll know that you're pretending."
"Instincts are not rational things. If they see a familiar face, then hopefully it won't matter what they
know.
"
I walk over to the front desk and… There it is, activate the internal communications.
"Hello there! I understand that certain parties in residence here are concerned about your world's involvement in the war with the Reach, and I've come here to discuss those concerns with you to see if I can allay them. If you're not interested in having that conversation with me, then I'm perfectly happy to leave. You just need to tell me that's what you-
"
"Ah."
"-want.
" I move away from the microphone.
"What?
"
"Political violence is
unusual. However, the custom appears to be that meetings like this should take place at a neutral location. Going directly to someone's home or place of work appears to be a local taboo."
"'Don't drop litter' taboo, or 'don't shit in the street' taboo?
"
"That's
rather difficult to calibrate."
I turn the microphone back on.
"It's just been pointed out to me that coming here directly may have been in violation of local custom. I apologise. I was not aware of that. On my world, walking into the offices of a political opponent would be perfectly fine. If you'd rather have a discussion somewhere else, just let me know
where and I'll go there at once. That… Will of course have to involve you actually communicating with me.
"
I look through the walls at the crowds heading for the evacuation points. There appears to be a good deal less yellow, though most of them are still leaving. Darn it. Note to self: always phone ahead.
And… Yeah, yeah, they appear to have designated the ritual sacrifice. With the danger of critical mission failure now abated I stop looking
quite so closely. I don't think 'I can see into your soul' is something I want people who are
already scared of me to know. Not right off the bat, anyway.
"Um, hello?"
"Hello. I'm still in the lobby. Have you picked an address?
"
"I'll-. Ah. I'll come to
you."
"I'll be waiting.
"
I turn off the microphone.
"Highest ranker on site, or most expendable office junior, do you think?
"
"The local custom is to use junior managers for
forlorn hopes. They get promoted if they survive."
"This is a
forlorn hope? I just.. walked into a building. I didn't even break through any sort of security.
"
"I didn't claim that local custom made any sense."
"Good, because it
doesn't-.
"
A local man wearing a shirt and sleeveless jumper nervously walks out of a corridor, raising two hands in what my rings tell me is a local deferential greeting.
"If you don't want people to walk in, just put a sign on the door.
"
"I'll.. pass that on."
"Thank you.
"
I walk towards him. Ring, local formal greeting is..? Stand just in front and touch your own horns..? Why-? Because you're demonstrating that you're not about to try and gore them, okay, that actually makes
sense. So I do that and wait-. He just taps his points, which I suppose is probably the more 'street' way of doing it. Fine. I let go of mine, and he appears to have relaxed a little.
"So do you want to do this here..?
"
"Since… You're here, we may as well. I didn't think that the br-. Ahh… The aliens had recruited any of us yet."
"We're recruiting from all over. Are you interested in a power ring yourself?
"
"N… No. No, I'm not."
"Alright. So… What actually
is dynamistic functionalism?
"
He looks at me sceptically. "That's what you want to know?"
"If I don't know what you think you believe, how can I possibly attempt to find common ground?
"
"
Oh. You're not from home-. Ah, this planet, are you?"
"No, I'm not.
"
"
Right." He grins, and slaps his cheeks. "Of
course. you wouldn't-. Spacer, or an alien planet?"
"Another planet.
"
"Right, I didn't mean like-. Ah, I've just.. never had anyone directly ask me what
dynamistic functionalism is, you know?"
"No I very literally
don't.
"
"No! You don't! But if there's one thing we can do here it's
explain what dynamistic functionalism is." He actually looks a little
excited. A little
too excited. "I suppose it starts about four hundred and eighty-. No. No no no, if you want to really
understand it, you have to go back-. How good are you at history?"