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Show "Aye, aye," whispered Phrapp. "Looks full insignificant." He guided Brandon to an overturned chair, righted it, and set him down. The room had not been cleared up since he and Hoqqam had had their skirmish. Phrapp said, "Ye will have to come with me now, thou knowest." "Mind me not...,-" the smaller man replied, waving a hand at Phrapp. He planted his boots flat on the cluttered floor, put his hands on his knees, and leaned forward. Then he smacked his lips and tried mightily to focus his eyes. "Let's o_n with it, by t h e . . . by the. . .ma. . .mass!" Phrapp looked for a moment more at him, patted Brandon's red and white striped shoulder with real affection, and then turned toward the Governor. Three hours later, Phrapp smiled loosely in satisfaction, hesitated for a fraction of a second, then hit two last keys. "There, and the devil take me!" he said aloud, and Brandon woke up, having made a nest for himself on the floor from the scattered and rumpled fanfold of hardcopy and fallen fast asleep. He sat up, shook his head, and then stopped abruptly, clutching it with both hands. "Aaaiiieeee," he moaned. Phrapp looked at him with concern. "Headache, friend?" Brandon lowered his hands and looked back at Phrapp. Friend? Brandon had never had a friend. . .except for the BauerNetwork, the system... the system had been his friend-all those files, the bubbles, the archives-and the console in his sanctum had been a long-time friend, the printouts, the bound and unbound hardcopy lining his walls, the holovision at home with Jon Peel reciting the news each night. Now that I bethink myself on that, 238 |