“Thank you,” he said, trying to find something complimentary to say. “This is very comfortable.”
“My species does not require a high level of physical comfort,” said Thornnastor. “The padding is there to deaden the sound of my footfalls so as not to inconvenience my neighbors with sound pollution. While I welcome a legitimate interruption in my studies…” It pointed a tentacle at the lighted viewscreen. “… I would prefer it not to be a waste of time.”
The mind tape it was carrying had been donated by a Kelgian, O’Mara thought, and it was obvious that the host’s behavior was being influenced by’ the donor, so a polite, roundabout approach would also be redundant.
“I’ve no intention of wasting your time or mine,” he said. “Senior Tutor Mannen has asked me to talk about the recent deterioration in your work which, because it has previously been of such a high standard, is causing us concern. The continuing decline became apparent a few days after you were impressed with a Kelgian DBLF mind tape, so we suspect a psychological component to your problem. Would you care to comment?”
Thornnastor turned one of its eyes in the direction of the viewscreen, followed by a tentacle tip, which switched it off; then all four of its eyes curled down to look at O’Mara. A few moments passed without a reply.
“If you are taking time to make a considered and accurate answer,” said O’Mara, “I can wait. But if you are unwilling to speak, why not?”
The Tralthan made a muted, foghorn sound that did not translate and otherwise remained silent. O’Mara sighed.
“There have been complaints of noise in this area during rest periods,” he went on. “The matter is being dealt with. But sleep deprivation can seriously affect the ability to concentrate. Is that the problem?”
“No,” said Thornnastor.
“Is the behavior or a lack of understanding of your colleagues or the teaching staff affecting you?” he continued. “Has anything they have done or said made you feel insecure? Are you having an emotional or perhaps a sexual involvement with someone?”
“No,” the Tralthan repeated.
“Then has it something to do with the mind tape?” he persisted.
The other remained silent.
I should have studied dentistry, he thought. This is like pulling teeth.
“Plainly there is a problem with your Educator tape,” said O’Mara patiently, “which it is my job to help you solve. But we can’t solve it unless I know what it is. I have the feeling that you would like to talk about it. Please do so.”
Thornnastor made another untranslatable sound so deep that it seemed to vibrate his bones. Then it said, “This is stupid, ridiculous. There’s no reason why I should feel this way.”
“Whether or not it is stupid or ridiculous,” said O’Mara, “is a purely subjective judgment on your part and as such has questionable value, as is the apparent lack of reason for your present feelings. Take as much time as you need to describe those feelings.”
The Tralthan raised and stamped the floor with its two middle feet. O’Mara felt the vibration even through the floor padding.
In a Tralthan, he reassured himself, it was supposed to be a sign of extreme irritation, perhaps of self-irritation in this case. It was also an indication, he hoped, that the other was going to speak.
“I am being afflicted with intense feelings of homesickness,” said Thornnastor in a low, ashamed voice, “for people and a planet I have never known. I’m supposed to have a stable, well-integrated mind. It is ridiculous and stupid to feel this way”
So it was the mind tape, O’Mara thought. At least he knew where the problem lay, and that, according to the unwritten laws of Major Craythorne, meant that he had taken the first step toward solving it. But it was beginning to look as if he was trying to analyze two patients here, the one presently looming over him and the tape donor at the other end of the galaxy who might not even be alive.
He said, “Not necessarily. The trouble may lie in the tape donor’s mind rather than yours. You know that mind from the inside. Tell me about it.”