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Plunging back into Recompile felt a relief.
Even at the end of the hall leading to the atrium, dozens of distant voices combined to an indecipherable babble containing just enough words to trigger Dale’s long habit of reassembling sentences. The air felt more humid. The Willow Tree Inn’s air handlers obviously struggled to cope with hundreds and hundreds of excited geeks sharing their cosplay and electronic projects and general nerdery. The air carried the heavy mélange of too many people in too small a place.
Maybe Recompile had rented the entire hotel. But Dale would lay even money that half the congoers had crowded into the lobby so they could have shouted conversations with each other.
The other half would be jammed into the con suite, with the food.
Still, the grumbled convers
