“I’m sorry our art forms bore you.”

Many beings who use acoustic means believe their art forms are the most important, valuable aspects of their minds. This is seldom so, in Our experience.

“So involvement is more important to you?”

For this moment, truly. Remember that We are an evolving composite of mental states, no less than you. You cannot meet the same Us again.

“Then you should be called…?”

We know your term “Architecture” and find it—your phrasing?—amusing. Better perhaps to consider us to be a composite entity. As you are yourselves, though you cannot well sense this aspect. You imagine that you are a unitary consciousness, guiding your bodies.

“And we aren’t?”

Of course not. Few intelligences in Our experience know as little of their underlying mental architecture as do you.

“Could that be an advantage for us?”

With the next words came a shooting sensation, something like a dry chuckle.

Perhaps so. You apparently do all your best work offstage. Ideas appear to you without your knowing where they come from.

She tried to imagine watching her own thoughts form, but was at a loss where to go with this. “Then let’s… well…”

Gossip?

What an odd word choice. There was something like a tremor of pleasure in its neural tone, resounding with long, slow wavelengths within her.

2.

“It sounds creepy,” Catkejen said. She was shoveling in food at the Grand Cafeteria, a habit Rachel had noticed many Loonies had. Food here was spotty, and when some fauxfilet came in, the alert went out.

“Nothing in my training really prepared me for its… well, coldness, and…”

Catkejen stopped eating to nod knowingly. “And intimacy?”

“Well, yes.”

“Look, I’ve been doing background code for pod work only a few weeks, just like you. Already it’s pretty clear that we’re mostly negotiating, not translating.”

Rachel frowned. “They warned us, but still…”

“Look, these are big minds. Strange as anything we’ll ever know. But they’re trapped in a small space, living cyber-lives. We’re their entertainment.”

“And I am yours, ladies,” said the silver-haired guy from the party night. As he sat down at their table, he ceremoniously shook hands with Rachel. “Geoffrey Chandis.”

“So how’re you going to amuse us?” Catkejen smiled skeptically.

“How’s this?” Geoffrey stood and put one broad hand on their table. In one deft leap he was upside down, balanced upon the one hand, the other saluting them.

“You’ve been sleeping and training in HiGee.” Catkejen applauded. The Library offered high-centrifugal whirlers for those who wanted to maintain their Earthside adaptation.

He switched his support from one hand to the other. “I find this paltry 0.17 Lunar gee charming, don’t you?”

Rachel pointed. “As charming as one red sock, the other blue?”

Unfazed, Geoffrey launched himself upward. He did a flip and landed on two feet, without even a backward step to restore balance. Rachel and Catkejen gave him beaming smiles. “Socks are just details, ladies. I stick to essentials.”

“You’re in our ear, so?” Catkejen asked.