Okay, not that. But for your reading pleasure, I've released a newly revised and polished original short SF story for subscribers to my occasional email newsletter, BlueMusings.
If you'd like to read "Diversity" and any of the previous stories, please sign up on the right hand sidebar, or you can go directly to the contact page on my website:.
A sneak peek of the story follows:
Varna bit back the urge to click her tongue in distress as she studied her tall, barrel chested boss. His voice, so well suited to vid broadcasts and important speeches to even more important people, felt far too large for her small cubicle. She struggled to keep her throat relaxed and her overvoice silent.
"Your participation is essentially a formality," he said, leaning over her desk and smiling. He had a charm that came across as both well-practiced and genuine, almost childlike. "You're not technically part of the diplomatic team and the actual negotiations will take place after the welcoming ceremony." Face to face the Ambassador's charisma felt like a blast of heat from a plasma furnace. "So, what do you think?" he asked.
She clasped her hands under the desk to keep from fidgeting. What did she think? Varna had worked at the Embassy long enough to know it didn't really matter what she thought. His direct presence here made her assignment to the mission merely seem like a request instead of genetic expediency.
What did she think? Varna clamped her teeth down. She thought this was a massive mistake. But you didn't just say that to Earth's most high ranking inter-planetary Ambassador. Hell, Ambassador Berwick probably spoke more of her grandparents' native Tuvlun than she did, and he didn't even have the right shaped palate. She didn't even realize she was tapping the tip of her tongue against the high arch of her mouth until the drum beat of her anxiety filled the room.
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