Available for pre-order on Smashwords! T'reka sighed as she put her books in order and reluctantly disposed of her former, almost-done...

Available for pre-order on Smashwords!

T'reka sighed as she put her books in order and reluctantly disposed of her former, almost-done presentations.

There would be no room for half-finished and never-to-be-finished projects on her expedition. But it still felt like she was tearing her own gizzard out.

She’d worked hard on each and every one of them… and she would never be allowed to complete them. As far as the Flock was concerned, all her contributions amounted to replicated data and that was that. Not even a footnote in the book of deeds.

It was illogical to mourn the loss of those things. Ridiculous. Possibly stupid. Those who shared the floor with her certainly let her know so.

T'reka put them carefully into a waste-bag nonetheless. Swallowed her noises of distress and upset, lest her neighbours hear and mock her again.

Of course she was ridiculous and stupid and foolhardy and illogical and irrational. She was a scientist. It was what she was best suited for and it was the best fit for her soul.

She carried the clinking bag carefully down the stairs and placed it with a whispered apology into the dumpster.

Crueller hands would have her good work, from now on.

“Spring cleaning at last, eh?” chirped Kikkiki. A student and a dancer. One of the many who lived in the small flats for economic reasons. “You do know it’s unhealthy to eat the bugs who invade your nest, right?”

“I am aware,” T'reka sang, trying to keep her voice and intonations positive. “I do not breed bugs in my home, and if I did I would certainly not be eating them.”

Kikkiki appeared to not have heard. “You scientists have the worst habits. I swear I saw one male eat a filth-bug just because it crossed his notes! No wonder you all have bad feathers and sparse plumage.”

T'reka, who kept her feathers properly groomed and released her stresses through her personal journal instead of indulging in plume-plucking, politely muttered a, “No wonder,” very coldly as she returned to her little hide-away.

She couldn’t help hearing Kikkiki mutter, “Ugh, antisocial scientists,” to the universe at large.

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