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Show "I would say," put in Manager Andrus, "that the beasts should come under the eye of BAA, regardless of horny plates." "And I beg leave to suggest, my good friends," said Jensen, "that they be the responsibility of the Bureau of Unclassified Animals, for the small YellowBison have only in the last century been domesticated for meat." "'Tis a moot point in any case," said Ivan at last, "for the beasts make no solid waste at all, but rather a quantity of g a s . . . ." He was interrupted by an android who had walked up to the table respectfully. "Your Graces!" he said. "A request most urgent from Appointments and Clearances." He held a memo out on a salver in a hand of steel alloy richly inlaid around the knuckles with gold. Manager Jensen brushed back her veil, lifted the memo, and peered at it suspiciously. Then she passed it to Manager Ivan. He glanced at it, raised his thatchy eyebrows and passed it to Manager Andrus who left off batting her eyelashes roundabout, took the memo and frowned at it, then looked up at the android severely. "By the Mass!" she said. "Are the A&C unable to take care of t h i s . . . " She looked at the memo with distaste. "... this Vice Manager Brandon themselves?" The android bowed respectfully. "If it please Your Grace, the Board of Managers' Appointment Calendar hath no openings on it until summer next." Manager Andrus's finely arched brows went up. '"Tis true indeed," she said reasonably; "and s o . . . ?" "Your Grace, Vice Manager Brandon insists most heatedly that his business cannot wait until summer next." The two women made an impatient tch with their mouths. Truly, this 63 |