a left or a right, sir?" (In later times, Odeen pulsed at the memory of that question. How incredibly naive to have asked it, and it was very little comfort that every Rational asked the question of a Hard One in some fashion, sooner or later - usually sooner.)
Losten answered quite calmly, "Neither, little-left. There are no lefts or rights among the Hard Ones,"
"Or mid-1 - Emotionals?"
"Or mid-lings?" And the Hard One changed the shape of his permanent sensory region in a fashion that Odeen eventually associated with amusement or pleasure. "No. No mid-lings either. Just Hard Ones of one kind."
Odeen had to ask. It came out involuntarily, quite against his desire. "But how do you stand it?"
"It is different with us, little-left. We are used to it."
Could Odeen be used to such a thing? There was the Parental triad that had filled his life so far and the sure knowledge that he would at some not-too-distant time form a triad of his own. What was life without that? He thought about it hard now and then. He though about everything hard, as it came up. Sometimes he managed to catch a glimpse of what it might mean. That Hard Ones had only themselves; neither left-brother, nor right-brother, nor mid-sister, nor melting, nor children, nor Parentals. They had only the mind, only the inquiry into the Universe.
Perhaps that was enough for them. As Odeen grew older, he caught bits of understanding as to the joys of inquiry. They were almost enough - almost enough - and then he would think of Tritt and of Dua and decide that even all the Universe beside was not quite enough.
Unless - It was odd, but every once in a while it seemed that there might come a time, a situation, a condition, when - Then he would lose the momentary glimpse, or, rather, glimpse of a glimpse, and miss it all. Yet in time it would return and lately he thought it grew stronger and would remain almost long enough to be caught.
But none of that was what should involve him now. He had to see about Dua. He made his way along the well-known route, along which he had first been taken by his Parental (as Tritt would soon take their own young Rational, their own baby-left.)
And, of course, he was instantly lost in memory again.
It had been frightening, then. There had been other young Rationals, all pulsing and shimmering and changing shape, despite the Parental signals on every side to stay firm and smooth and not disgrace the triad. One small left, a playmate of Odeen, had, in fact, flattened thin, baby-fashion, and would not unflatten, despite all the efforts of his horribly embarrassed Parental. (He had since become a perfectly normal student. . . . Though no Odeen, as Odeen himself could not help realizing with considerable complacency.)
They met a number of Hard Ones on that first day of school. They stopped at each, in order that the young-Rational vibration pattern might be recorded in several specialized ways and for a decision to be reached as to whether to accept them for instruction then, or to wait another interval; and if then, for what kind of instruction.
Odeen, in a desperate effort, had drawn himself smooth as a Hard One approached, and held himself unwavering.
The Hard One said (and the first sound of the odd tones of his voice almost undid Odeen's determination to be grown-up), "This is quite a firm-held Rational. How do you represent yourself, left?"
It was the first time Odeen had ever been called "left" instead of in the form of some diminutive, and he felt firmer than ever as he managed to say, "Odeen, Hard-sir," using the polite address his Parental had carefully taught him.
Dimly, Odeen remembered being taken through the Hard-caverns, with their equipment, their machinery, their libraries, their meaningless, crowding sights and sounds. More than - the actual sense perceptions, he remembered his inner feeling of despair. What would they do with him? His Parental had told him that he would learn, but he didn't know what was really meant by "learn" and when he asked his Parental, it turned out that the older one didn't know either.
It took him a while to find out and the experience was pleasurable, so pleasurable, and yet net without its worrisome aspects.
The Hard One who had first called him "left" was his first teacher. The Hard One taught him to interpret the wave recordings