Woolgathering
Some of the worst weather Serrano Point has ever seen. Wind bad enough to blow a com dish off its tower. Someone had to fix it, and the brass called out tech squad to go get it done. Since tech squad today consisted of only one guy, tech specialist Wolfe got the short end.
Dorthy had offered to go out there. As soon as she heard about it, the first thing she said was "I'll go. I will experience no discomfort from the rain, and I have enough mass that the wind will have little effect."
Wolfe knew it was really his job, and if anyone knew that he was getting the metal to do it, his ass may end up in a sling. Still, after having worked with her for a few short weeks, he knew she was more capable of the job than he was. Her desire to be helpful seemed genuine, and in his heart he believed it.
Now he stood out under a portico while she climbed the tower. He was still getting a little wet and the wind was cold, but it wasn't as bad as where she was. He didn't really have anything to do here, but he felt that he had to be involved. He jammed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the cold. He closes his eyes for a bit.
He worries lately about the little metal that has been assigned to him. She is innocuous, even cute; it is hard to think of her as a product of skynet. That's the big problem, it's too easy to think of her as easygoing, helpful, or even as a friend. If she really is infiltrating, he may be an easy target, so he worries.
With his eyes still closed, he catches a faint scent that he just can't place, something he hasn't smelled in a long time. He falls back into memory, caves in to a déjà vu. A small boy stands with a hot drink in his hand. Wool mittens are drying on a big iron radiator. The boy stands in front of it, the heat radiating through him, the smell of his damp wool mittens, the sense that he is inside, safe, warm. Wolfe can't believe he ever felt that way, today paranoia keeps you alive.
He holds the memory as long as he can, warmth, safe, home. He realizes that he actually is warm, and the smell of damp wool is real. He opens his eyes.
She is standing in front of him, steam rising from her black dress. She has somehow raised her inner temperature and is drying herself off. She is looking at him with that serene stare, so peaceful. He can't help himself, the feeling of the memory blends in with the moment, her warmth, and her radiance.
"Where did you go Stephen Wolfe?" she asks in that flat calm little voice of hers.
"Ha, I was just woolgathering!" He replies. "All set?"
"Yes. I told you it wouldn't be that hard."
With a heavy toolbox in each hand, she walks gracefully down the corridor as if she were bringing tea to the commander.
Watching her he thinks, 'God help me, if she really is infiltrating, I am a dead man'.
Fin