It's our deep future--New Year's Eve, 1347, to be precise. And, boy, talk about surprise parties.
Amantu opened his eyes to find the Group staring roguishly. Even the telepresence appeared amused. The professor pushed himself upright, his thoughts still steaming.
“A Nyear toast,” said Izzy over his flask, “to Moses Mantu, Burghbridge favor son and now . . . now . . . newst member Group!”
Abel nodded. “Hear! Hear!”
“And here,” the Tp responded.
“Well.” Izzy searched his brandy. “Well . . . nickname. For Group ear, mind you, only.
Let see now. Moses. Tough one. Not many great many men share suchlike forename. ‘Mo?’ Uh-uh. Doesn’ ring. How bout ‘Mosey?’ Nah. Too . . . lay back. Are you guy help me...