triangular.
triangular. Each contained what Alex took for a mouth and an eye socket. Between the necks was a thick bulge of bone. The creature stood on three legs ending in clawed hooves, with the rear leg attached to the spine by a complex hip joint. There was a small plaque attached to it.
Alex gripped the wheels of his chair and rolled himself across the room. He squinted at the plaque.
SIMPSON: RESEARCH AND DESIGN
Contents: ONE MODEL OF PUPPETEER SKELETON
(SPECIMEN A)
THIS MODEL, BASED ON A RARE SPECIMEN TRADED
FROM THE KZIN, SHOWS THE PUPPETEER JUST BEFORE
THE EXTENDED PHASE OF A HIGH-SPEED LOPE . . .
Alex shook his head. He could just imagine the consternation if, after the fall of civilization, paleontologists of the future were to unearth this . . . um . . . sculpture.
"Do you like him?" Doc Waxman wheeled Gordon into the room and parked him beside Alex. He was a gift from Speaker-to-Seafood."
Alex thought he should be used to this sort of thing by now. "Whom?"
"Nat Reynolds, the writer. It's a long story, involving a drunken conversation with a lobster Savannah. I'll tell you about it someday." He whistled cheerfully while he set up a tray with glasses and an ice bucket. Alex couldn't help grinning. Doc was the most determinedly cheerful man he had ever met. He was easily sixty; yet he had not hesitated to dash out onto the glaciers with the younger fans, on what might easily have become a fatal mission-of-mercy for two strangers.
Alex gripped the wheels of his chair and rolled himself across the room. He squinted at the plaque.
SIMPSON: RESEARCH AND DESIGN
Contents: ONE MODEL OF PUPPETEER SKELETON
(SPECIMEN A)
THIS MODEL, BASED ON A RARE SPECIMEN TRADED
FROM THE KZIN, SHOWS THE PUPPETEER JUST BEFORE
THE EXTENDED PHASE OF A HIGH-SPEED LOPE . . .
Alex shook his head. He could just imagine the consternation if, after the fall of civilization, paleontologists of the future were to unearth this . . . um . . . sculpture.
"Do you like him?" Doc Waxman wheeled Gordon into the room and parked him beside Alex. He was a gift from Speaker-to-Seafood."
Alex thought he should be used to this sort of thing by now. "Whom?"
"Nat Reynolds, the writer. It's a long story, involving a drunken conversation with a lobster Savannah. I'll tell you about it someday." He whistled cheerfully while he set up a tray with glasses and an ice bucket. Alex couldn't help grinning. Doc was the most determinedly cheerful man he had ever met. He was easily sixty; yet he had not hesitated to dash out onto the glaciers with the younger fans, on what might easily have become a fatal mission-of-mercy for two strangers.