adventures

to keep me occupied on the journey to Perfecton.'
'Ah yes, Perfecton; I am envious of you all. My slight sway with the Vice Chancellor was not
enough to secure me a berth. I suppose that Earth Literature isn't the most obvious of studies for
a journey to a dead civilization . . .'
'I don't think Etiquette is going to be a vital discipline in the exploration either, but we have no
fewer than two specialists in that field coming along.'
'Hmm. Knowledge above all, as they say. To take one Etiquette specialist to Perfecton may be
a misfortune, to take two . . .'
'Is sheer bloody nonsense,' Bernice finished.
'You know the quotation.' Archduke moved towards his library. 'I'll just get that data module.
I'm sure it's compatible with the cruiser's computer.'
Once he'd gone, Bernice kissed Wolsey on the top of his head. 'See what you've made me do?'
she whispered. 'You've made me read a textbook.'
Extract from the Diary of Bernice Summerfield:
After I dropped Wolsey off at my rooms, and gave him one of his looks right back at him when he
realized that his biccie ration had been cut in half, I rushed to my noon tutorial. That, as always,
faded into an afternoon beer session in the Garland College bar, the Witch and Whirlwind. There's
nothing like good, rich ale when the shadows grow longer and the gold of autumn is on the land.
It helps you to embrace time, makes you philosophical. Or just too pissed to care. Over a couple
of pints of it, I became settled into my favourite bar-corner armchair, seven of the most devoted
of my protégés gathered in an adoring circle about me. Doran was there, but I managed to resist
the urge to ruffle his hair, pinch his fresh cheek or pat him on the head. An urge towards maturity
should not immediately turn one into a fruity old lady. He'd already started to read the book I'd
given him, and didn't question the lack of archaeological material so far.
My other six admirers were:
Arex, Polybus: a Lucidian with golden skin who wears a freedom ring through his nose, a
Lucidian Power Y shirt, and bristles at every mention I make of human achievement, insisting that
the lost empire of Lucidia had been behind every major achievement in human history. He's actually
right about that, but I wouldn't dream of telling him.
Rose, Anne-Marie: a human girl who dotes on my every word and gesture, violently rowing
with Arex whenever he disagrees with me. I think she may have a little bit of a crush on me, the
poor thing. Hee hee hee hee hee.
Fuleep, Ockjin: a vastly chested Maldean sports student, who tries to translate everything into
a bizarre philosophy he calls Common Sense and can't be bothered to work too hard. He fears
change, I think.
Waspo, Jayne: a rich and offhand girl who spends all her time making sure that her dress
doesn't get dirty. She seems to hang around me because she regards me as the closest thing the
course has to a celebrity. Goddess knows what she'll be like in the field.
Pluse, Vitor: a bit of a lad. He keeps making Chelonian jokes, which, since I have some personal
experience of that species, I suppose I should complain about. He's also, unfortunately, a
Linnekerist. You get a lot of these cultists in twentieth-century studies, but this one's my first.
That's the trouble with religious tolerance: it stops you from giving somebody a good slap.
Marjorie, Marjorie: a very caring and sharing young woman with pink hair and cheeks, who
insists that we should all forget our differences and cooperate, and that everybody's point of view
is equally valid. Whereas I tend towards the view that my point of view is rather more valid than
anyone else's, her services at the more fractious moments of debate amongst this lot are welcome.
We were arguing – sorry, debating – the current vogue in archaeology for actually experiencing
the times researched, via sophisticated computer recreations of the era concerned. Now, I think
this is bollocks, basically, that history creeps into the book of archaeology and rewrites every line,
to the point where any reading of the past distorts it. It's a sort of quantum-fridge-light-on-offstatus-look-inside
thing. But then I'm vastly experienced in practical archaeology, and my young