The Cuteness That Came To AsgarthA H.P.Lushcraft story, transcribed and re-typedby Simon Barber, 1995.WARNING. This story contains scenes of explicit andgratuitous Cuteness. Specific Life Insurance cover shouldbe arranged before reading.It is one of the few saving graces in that tiny portion of allpossibilities that we call Life, that so few people bother to sit andtruly think, about the world around them. Though poets today may complainof the lack of Vision, and scientists worry about the dearth of trueinspiration, perhaps it is better so. The difficulty is, you see, thatonce you begin to put the pieces of the jigsaw together, you can neverreally stop, whether you like the emerging picture or not .....But I must start from the beginning. I was in my second year at theancient University of Asgarth, in the high market town that nestles onthe Northern moors. The town lay in a great scooping bowl bitten out ofthe hillside, like a six-mile crater in a landscape half eaten by thecold waves of the North Sea. Very old and grand were the buildingsthere, and often in Winter you could look out over the ocean fogs lyingheavy below like a great white blanket for the grey waters beneath.It was on such a day, that I met her. To make my meagre grant coverexpenses, I had taken a part-time job using my degree subject, as aQuantum Mechanic. In my Virtual Helmet, I was viewing the underside of ahalf-fried chip that someone had picked up while their fur was freshlybrushed and charged with static .... shaking my head, I began to pack upthe (extremely small) toolkit. This was a replacement job, not a repair."Hidy !" There was a voice in the shop. I scooted out on theVirtual; trolley, and pulled off the nanoscale helmet. My ears prickedup higher than ever - I'm a canine, greyhoundish generally, but withsharply erect Jackal ears. Mother once spent a holiday in the NamelessCity in the Sahara, but that's another story.The visitor was shortish, just over a metre high, and of definitelepine stock. Over-long, floppy ears waved cheerfully, her golden-blondefur mostly hidden by the heavy-looking metallic suit she wore. Istraightened up, and wiped my hands clean. Second customer of the day, Itold myself - and far the nicest."Can I help you ?" I asked her.For a second, She turned a flashing glance on me. It felt - much as Iimagine a modern aircraft's computer feels, when a radar scans it. I gotthe feeling that she was analysing me minutely, from the bones outward.But then she smiled, and the feeling evaporated."I'm 'aving some trouble weeth my left paw," she said shyly,extending a chubby arm. I looked down, and saw what she meant - it wasnot designer armour she wore, but a powered suit, the left wrist ofwhich was held stiffly. I ran through the possibilities, and decided tocheck out the servo-motor controller circuits."Staying her long, ma'am ?" I asked her as I gently popped theelectronics package and slid it into the analyser.She nodded, her huge ears bobbing. "I am - you say, just arriving'ere. I 'ave started at the Universitee this week." She flashed meanother of those glances, and a pink tongue ran over brilliantly whitechisel-teeth, sparkling as if they were brand new. "Ze suit, I need itto be - in shape. I am glad to find you open, eet is a new town for me."Unbelievably long whiskers twitched.
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