“Sir? Sir, we have a
problem.”
The mayor of Varley looked up from
his monitor. “A problem with whom, or with what?”
His assistant considered whether
to offer an opinion on whether the Tofa were Who or What, and decided against
it. “It’s another complaint from the Tofa, sir. They say that
humans are shaking hands.”
“People are trying to shake
hands with Tofa? Which hand, I wonder.”
“No, sir. With each other.
The Tofa are upset that humans are shaking hands with each other in public.
Quite upset.”
“How can you tell? Oh, I
know, they vibrate, or smell different, or something. If a job dealing with
Tofa has done anything for me, it’s made me appreciate faces, proper ones
that tell you what’s behind them. . . .”
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