The Spacer’s stare was intense, like he was evaluating me. Sweat pasted my clothes to my body. I was aware of my slightest curve. I suddenly felt embarrassed and inadequate. Even when I’m naked with Hank I’ve never felt so -- so sexual. And then he winked at me. I turned away quickly.
The SecPol admitted Alicia to the circle of mechs and sent me on my way. It was just as well. My shift was over and I had to hurry to make it to my afternoon sculpting class.
Which was a bore. My parents are both painters, so naturally they wanted me to be a painter too. Unfortunately, I just don’t have their color sense, so I’m stuck learning sculpture because my psych evaluation said that I had “excellent three-dimensional visualization and digital coördination.”
At least I fared better than my cousin Lee. He had failed all this classes and he was evaluated and sent to an ag world where he was horribly mangled in a harvester. Hank says that the Federation doesn’t bother with safety on farms because replacement operators are so cheap.
We were modeling in Plasteel, which you work with your hands like clay, but is not as messy. As usual, I was not paying attention. I felt the warm ooze of the Plasteel as I let myself think about the Free Spacer landing. I wished Hank had been with me at the spaceport to see it.
I worked the Plasteel into a sphere, and then chopped in half with my u-knife.
Henry Rankin was the only good thing that happened in painting class last form.