…or How New Year Might Go Wrong
‘I’m here because I want a resolution.’ Scarg spoke as confidently as he could to the holographic humanoid, before glancing at Vera. He hated these reculturing sessions. ‘What?’
‘You make resolutions, Scarg, not buy them.’ Vera made a note.
Scrag’s oratal orifice sparked. ‘You said I could buy dinner or make my own so I thought…’
‘Did you prepare for this session?’
She knew he hadn’t.
‘I’ve been busy, preskinning; that’s on top of my second aspiration-adjustment.’
‘How did that go?’
He showed her where the added lung had exploded.
Another note. ‘You’ll be there for New Year. Everyone makes resolutions. It’s a good time to test your assimilation attributes.’ She indicated he needed to absorb the mind-adducer. ‘Time to check progress.’
Scrag allowed himself to be gas-permeated. Bloody humiliating if she failed him. He followed her trail; she was checking his form. He outbodied and looked at himself. Damn good, he thought. The one head was a tight fit but the limbs held his twenty snuggly without the usual abrasions and his glands moistened appropriately, unlike the first time when his exuberant dampness shorted the whole system.
On she went, to emotions, with Scarg following. Emotions were so passé. If he allowed himself the range that humans had he’d render several galaxies inoperable. Maybe that’s the issue here, he mused. All this time absorbing and assimilating and wasn’t it inevitable a little of these stupid feelings should stick?
Vera extruded herself. ‘Yes, you need to embrace emotions for this posting. Shall we try a test? What would you do if, say, someone criticised your resolution?’
Scarg dipped into the diextric for guidance: frustration? humiliation? No, he had it. In one gulp he ate Vera. ‘I’d get angry.’