Book 5: Chapter 46: Moot Time
Bob
July 2344
In Virt
Isent a message to Theresa. Moot’s in a few mils. See you there?
Already arrived, came back immediately. Move your tail.
Heh. That had become Theresa’s favorite expression. For some reason, the Quinlans had never coined the phrase, despite actually having tails. But it had since become a meme both in the Quiniverse and among bio Quinlans.
I popped over to the moot hall, to find Bill, beer in hand, sitting with Theresa in her human avatar. I eyed Theresa’s drink. She had, for some reason, become partial to hard cider. That was a recent addition to the moots and a bit of cultural contamination from the ex-human side, as no Bob would ever have suggested putting it on the menu. Original Bob had once gotten drunk on cider as a teenager. I shuddered at the memory.
“Hey, Bill. Whassup?” I said, sitting across from Theresa.
“Well, the world isn’t coming to an end or anything,” he replied. “I just thought we were due for a moot. I sent out a general invitation, but these days, if we get a few hundred attendees, it’s a good day.”