#braxiatel

Braxiatel was an open-minded person, but he didn't believe in ghosts. Not in the accepted sense of souls floating around the place where their bodies died, anyway. He told Bernice as much as they left the screening room. "Oh, really?" said Bernice, testily. "I can't help noticing that you're moving away from that projector as quickly as I am."

"So we rescue him there?" "We?" Braxiatel frowned. "I am entrusted with the position of impartial chairman, don't let's forget. And whatever happens, I must appear to be impartial throughout the proceedings." Benny glared at him. "Impartial? After everything?" He held up a finger. "I did say appear to be." He smiled. "And whether I actually remain impartial or not, whatever that may mean, I do have a few suggestions for how we might proceed."

Irving Braxiatel's head and shoulders appeared on the screen. He was sitting at a desk, going through some documents. He didn't look up. But Bernice didn't know that, because she still had her hand over her eyes. "Hello, Irving Braxiatel speaking," came his voice from the speaker. "Hi, honey," she said. Displays of affection threw him off, and Bernice enjoyed throwing him off. If nothing else, it helped to keep him at a pace she could match. "It's me." "Oh, Bernice. Hello," said Braxiatel. "Mmm." There was a brief silence. "Did you want something, Bernice?" "What're you doing?" asked Bernice, with what she was aware was a hint of neediness in her voice. "Checking some new acquisitions in the film library. Why?" "Don't you have people to do that?" "Not yet. | didn't have anything else to do, so | decided to do it myself." "Oh,' said Bernice. "You need any help?"

"Oh," said Bernice, "that's just typical of you. The arch-rationalist, disparaging anybody who cares enough to react when -" Braxiatel stopped walking. Bernice stopped too, when she realised that he wasn't alongside her any more. "Bernice," he said quietly, "I would like to remind you that I come from a culture that has little in common with the one that you grew up in -" "No," said Bernice, "but you've condescended to live among us, haven't you? I'm sorry, but it's you who needs to adjust." "Can I finish?" Braxiatel said, sharply. "I may not express myself in the ways that you are used to, but I do care. Think about what happened back there. Whether what we saw was a ghost, or - or something else, it was in pain. And I think that, having found that to be the case, we should try and do something about it. Don't you?" Bernice suddenly felt very small. She stared at her feet. "No. No, you're right. I'm sorry, it just scared me a bit." Braxiatel, who, Bernice realised, had come closer to losing his temper than he would ever admit, visibly calmed down. "No, I know."