“Can I get some snacks now?” A plate levitates over to me…no idea who is responsible, but I don’t care. I’m hungry because I missed breakfast thinking I was going to be late. Should have known. We never start on time; today was no exception. “Thank you.” I scarf food in my face. I don’t actually need eat, but I can taste food and love it…and the other races in the Nethraverse don’t realize that some Synthetics can eat…extra protection for me because I’d be painfully destroyed if anyone recognized me for what I am.
The meeting continues…and continues…and continues some more. Aside from the Terran zapping the Kintar with a jolt of electricity from one of her gadgets that never cease to impress me. I didn’t hear what the Kintar said to the Terran that got him zapped, but those two have a history I don’t care to know about…aside from the ancient history of colonization attempts and war between their races. They have a treaty and stuff, but that doesn’t really translate to interpersonal skills.
I personally think the Kintar has a galaxy-sized chip on his shoulder because he’s a dude and in Kintar terms isn’t taken as seriously as he would be if he were female. I’m actually surprised the Dorian didn’t look at his appointment to this committee as the colossal fuck you that it was probably meant to be.
The Dorian’s voice breaks through my consciousness while I’ve been enjoying my snacks in my own blissful world, “…we are agreed, then, to table this issue for our meeting the next lunar month?” Everyone grumbles and begins to stand before the Dorian can finish their sentence.
I take a moment to appreciate that we’ve been talking about the Terran jump gates for three years now. Even counting the planetary time variations, it’s a long fucking time, and I can’t believe a decision hasn’t been reached. And by saying that I can’t believe it, I very much can. I brush the crumbs off my shirt…gotta love a Citza. That was delicious.