PeterWatts_Blindsight

Peter Watts 70 Blindsight
Smart enough to take cover when they hear a fluke slap or a click
train. So transients are sneaky, eh? Hunt in small groups, range all
over the place, keep their mouths shut so nobody hears 'em
coming."
"And Jukka's a transient."
"Man's instincts tell him to keep quiet around prey. Every time
he opens his mouth, every time he lets us see him, he's fighting his
own brain stem. Maybe we shouldn't be too harsh on the ol' guy
just because he's not the world's best motivational speaker, eh?"
"He's fighting the urge to eat us every time we have a briefing?
That's reassuring."
Szpindel chuckled. "It's probably not that bad. I guess even
killer whales let their guard down after making a kill. Why sneak
around on a full stomach, eh?"
"So he's not fighting his brain stem. He just isn't hungry."
"Probably a little of both. Brain stem never really goes away,
you know. But I'll tell you one thing." Some of the playfulness
ebbed from Szpindel's voice. "I've got no problem if Sarasti wants
to run the occasional briefing from his quarters. But the moment
we stop seeing him altogether? That's when you start watching
your back."
Looking back, I can finally admit it: I envied Szpindel his way
with the ladies. Spliced and diced, a gangly mass of tics and jitters
that could barely feel his own skin, somehow he managed to be—
Charming. That's the word. Charming.
As a social necessity it was all but obsolete, fading into
irrelevance along with two-party nonvirtual sex pairing. But even
I'd tried one of those; and it would have been nice to have had
Szpindel's self-deprecating skill set to call on.
Especially when everything with Chelsea started falling apart.
I had my own style, of course. I tried to be charming in my own
peculiar way. Once, after one too many fights about honesty and
emotional manipulation, I'd started to think maybe a touch of
whimsy might smooth things over. I had come to suspect that
*