at allSylvia Smith leaned over from two desks down. She snapped, “This is your job. Just do it. And email it. We don’t need chapter and verse — only data.”
Ben corrected her, his voice black velvet and convincing. “It’s her job,” he said, slowly, “And I do realise you’re second-in-command, but you might wish to take changes in work through me. It affects everyone, each decision like this.” He was very polite, almost diffident, but also firm.
Artemisia suspected that Konig didn’t give a damn about prayer times. Sylvia Smith threatened Konig. What use was Artemisia, if her work was to be disregarded? Why did they bother bringing an historian if they assumed that historian’s stupidity? Besides, data was never, ever only data. It had contexts. It didn’t select itself. Artemisia talked hersel
