David smiled.David smiled. In Mickey's case he was sure Patricia had spent at least a few hours literally under the chief engineer. Mickey had always been a ladykiller. David reached for the power switch on his terminal when the reflection in the monitor's glass caught his attention. He .tisked. himself under his breath. His eyes were dulled, his fur matted, his whiskers droopy. There had been days when he had been one fine-looking Rat, but this was not going to be one of those days. The funeral and the legal administration surrounding Mickey's death had taken their toll. He pushed the switched. The terminal beeped as it came up. David found the familiar sound annoying today. He sighed again as he typed in his access code and pulled up mail for the custom-request address he had created yesterday morning. "Now then," he said, addressing the monitor as he typed commands, "how many people applied for the job?" YOU HAVE MAIL WAITING (17 NEW), the monitor replied. David didn't bother to look at the mail himself - there were other criteria he had to satisfy before sifting through seventeen resumes. From his terminal he typed "RESUME ASSESS." The program ran for several seconds, then announced "RECORDS: 17. REJECTED: 17. 0 SUITABLE APPLICANTS BY PRESENT CRITERIA DATABASE."  |