TWO HUNDRED FIVE: Herdcreatures III
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Alden poured what was left of his cup of dried fish mix into a plastic bag that had held one of his disposable ponchos. He couldn’t find anything that looked like a waste receptacle here, and the Artonan boy he’d questioned had already escaped into the library proper.
After belatedly worrying about the safety of his breakfast, Alden had asked the System about it and been informed, via a message that had an unnecessarily amused tone to it, that yovkews were bad for his liver. He wasn’t going to get sick from having a few, but scarfing them like potato chips would mean he needed to take a potion.
They were more okay than delicious, and he liked all of his organs. So why risk it? He didn’t think eating another and trying to interpret the gremlin’s complete lack of concern one more time was going to result in a breakthrough. He could look into something like this and wonder about it when he got back home.
This weekend is too much.
Yesterday, Natalie wanted to date me. This morning I met a bokabv. I’m a few steps away from finding out what the “top library” at the Rapport I school looks like, and I’ve eaten a handful of toxic meat that the gremlin somehow knows is fine and dandy as far as triggering its sacred rites goes.
Any one of those would have been enough to fill his thoughts and occupy him for the rest of the day. If all the shocks, puzzles, and must-dos could just patiently wait their own turn, that would be great.