and the sand would be completely gone in another 27 years. To remind the onlooker of this fact, the hourglass was superimposed over a large 2 and a 7, side by side. They too changed with each passing year, as Marje knew from previous visits to the office.
It was twenty-seven years until the end of the Home Time, but the thought had never really bothered her. By then she would be comfortably settled on a retirement world.
Enough daydreaming, back to work.
‘Display incoming,’ she said, and the latest batch of in-mail that was yet to be dealt with appeared in front of her as she walked. She frowned at one of the items; she had already seen, and ignored, several like it. ‘Query: why do I keep getting reports from this correspondent?’
All the reports of all the correspondents had of course been logged long before she was born, but the Register only released them little by little, giving them the illusion of news just in. It was one of the quirks programmed into it by Jean Morbern, and something no one had the know-how to alter. This correspondent had begun reporting in the eleventh century and its stories had so far been of negligible interest to her.
The voice of Records spoke to her through her symb. ‘
‘I do,’ Marje said. Clearly the correspondent had had a pre-programmed disposition which had been of interest to Daiho, but she was more interested in cutting down on the workload. ‘No further reports as of now. Move this one and all previous to archive.’
‘
Pre-programmed dispositions. That was something else she would have to get her head around. There was always a pile of petitions from various societies and interest groups to have one or more correspondents from the next batch to go upstream predispositioned to their own particular concern. Right now, for instance, the Technological History League of Russkaya ecopolis wanted a correspondent who would seek out the great engineering thinkers of their day. The Association for Atonal Composition had supplied a list of musicians and composers that it wanted interviewed. And so on. Selecting which groups to favour and which not was a politically fraught occupation and Marje decided to put it off until she had more practice. Maybe she should investigate that patrician thing… make friends, get an idea of how it was done…
‘
‘Commissioner Ario,’ she said. ‘Of course.’
The full red-outlined eidolon of Yul Ario, Commissioner for Fieldwork, appeared in front of her. ‘Marje,’ he said. ‘We have been remiss in not welcoming you into our midst yet.’ He had a wide smile that seemed quite sincere.
‘I’ve been busy…’ Marje said.
‘Of course, of course.’ Ario held out his hands. ‘Anyway, welcome to the office of Commissioner. Did you know we have monthly briefings? The next is tomorrow and we’d like to see you there — you know, get to know you socially…’
‘I’d be delighted.’
‘Good, good! Tell me, how’s young Hossein coming on?’
‘He’s doing nicely, thank you,’ she said. ‘You know him?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Ario looked surprised. ‘Didn’t you know? I’m his sponsor. He used to be with me in Fieldwork. Miss him, sometimes. Surprised he transferred. I was going to give him a timestream. I suppose he just wanted a change.’
‘Yes,’ said Marje, surprised. She hadn’t known. Maybe Asaldra had felt he was going to be promoted too high. Perhaps being an assistant was simply his preferred station in life.
This conversation was going somewhere: she could feel it. Ario was the kind of man who had to spiral up through the pleasantries to get to the point.
‘So, Marje. Have you been thinking about sponsorship yet?’ Ario said.
‘Yes, I’ve been thinking,’ Marje said, with a sinking feeling. The patrician thing again. A good patrician was expected to take on at least twenty sponsorees, though she knew some who had something like fifty. From those to whom much was given, much was expected.
The question was, where to start?
‘The one thing you don’t do,’ said Ario, ‘is take on unsolicited applicants. Well, you can, if you want the extra work. But you want to make sure you can take on people you can work with and approve of, and that usually means people you know. Of course, I’ve got some overflow sponsorees that I could let you have to get started.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Marje said.
‘And…’ Ario gave a reluctant frown, the kind that said he really didn’t want to have to interrupt the flow of bonhomie with something distasteful. ‘Marje, I thought I should give you a word of advice, just between the two of us. There’s a friendly bit of rivalry between the wings of the College, you know, Fieldwork and Correspondents and Social Studies and… but by and large, if you’re actively dissatisfied with the actions of one of our staff, you should come straight to us. Don’t have your office issue a complaint. It’s bad form and, well, it detracts from the mystique of being a Commissioner. It shows us up to our juniors.’
‘Well, thank you,’ said Marje, baffled. ‘I’ll remember that if I ever want to complain about someone.’
‘It’s –’ Ario gave a dry little laugh — ‘it’s a little late for that, Marje.’
‘It is?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Isn’t what?’
They looked at each other for a few seconds in the silence that comes from a complete lack of communication. Marje broke the silence.
‘Yul — I may call you Yul? — what exactly are you trying to say?’
‘I’m trying to say that your office recently issued a complaint against one of my Field Ops, and I’d really rather you had brought it straight to me.’
‘Is that a fact?’
‘The Op in question has… well, a reputation for difficulty, but if he’s to get into trouble I’d like it to be because of his professional conduct, not what he does in his time off duty.’
‘I’m not dissatisfied with one of your Ops!’ Marje said. ‘I don’t know any of them.’
‘But if a complaint came from your office…’
‘Who was this Op, anyway?’ Marje said with a sudden surge of intuition.
‘One Garron. Ri—’
‘—co Garron,’ said Marje, shutting her eyes. She had just about got him out of her mind.
‘So you do know him?’
‘No! I mean, I’ve met him once, for about a minute. I could probably walk past him in the corridor without recognizing him again. And I certainly haven’t made a complaint about him.’ Ario still looked sceptical. ‘I haven’t!’
‘In that case, Marje, someone in your office is taking your name in vain,’ Ario said. Marje cast her mind back to all the people who would have known about that brief meeting — and found there was only one. A cold anger welled up inside her.
Marje was already annoyed, and was made more so by the fact that Hossein Asaldra could only blink as she gave vent to her feelings. From his typical expression of ennui there was no way of knowing how much of it was getting through. It would probably be the same even if he had been physically present, instead of just being projected.
‘If I want to reprimand someone, or even just complain about them, I’m perfectly capable of doing so!’ she said. ‘I don’t need help or assistance and I don’t like my name being used without my permission.’
‘I was out of order.’ Asaldra still sounded bored. ‘I apologize.’
‘You had no right to try and read my mind! That Field Op has been reprimanded. Have you ever had a reprimand on your record? Do you know how difficult it is to get rid of it? People ask questions for years afterwards…’
‘I apologize,’ Asaldra said again. It was probably the best she was going to get. ‘Perhaps I should apologize to Op Garron too. Though if he hadn’t tried to masquerade as a Security Op, this wouldn’t be happening now.’
‘No!’ Marje could think of nothing likely to offend Rico Garron more than a wearied, monotone apology from
