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Squid #141
(published July 3, 2003)
Notes From The Giant Squid: A Tour of the Lab (part 1)

Who is Poor Mojo's Giant Squid?
Dear Giant Squid:

Where do you live?

Terry DeLance


This is Molly Reynolds (Rob's take on Molly, Molly's take on Rob. —sub-eds.) writing in the name of the lab.

Well, when this question came through I petitioned Sang for the right to answer it. I know part of the mission of this lab is a certain kind of free-wheeling public outreach, which I wanted to be a part of (if for no other reason than to understand how dating advice figures into such a strange marine biology lab) and I figured this question would also satisfy some of my own curiosity about the work I have signed up for. What follows is my journal regarding the search for the answers to this very basic question.

I hope that you, Terry, find this as edifying as I did.

So, as I was saying, I saw this question come through on my terminal in the Data Center. I IM'd Dr. Hsien about it and he did not respond. I have always felt when starting new work it was best to assume that forthrightness was appreciated until instructed otherwise, so I got up from my terminal and hunted the Doctor down.

I found him at the window working on his personal laptop. He was startled by my approach.

"Dr. Hsien—" I held my hand out just over his shoulder. Should I touch him?

"Sang," he responded without turning away from his work.

"What?" My hand froze in the air above his shoulder.

"Everyone here calls me Sang." He paused in his work and gazed out into the rain.

"Sorry. I apologize. Sang—"

"I don't like being called Sang. I just meant to say that everyone calls me that."

"Hrm." I let my hand come down to my side. I shifted my weight from side to side and wondered if I might not be better off just fending away the janitor, Rob. The air was damp from the rain, the vents breathing cold dog-breath down on us both. Of course, it could actually be the breath of a dog. I kept one eye on my immobile boss and with the other eye I glanced up at the vent. On more than one occasion I have seen the eyes of a haggard escaping cocker spaniel looking down.

No escaping dogs this time. Just clammy air.

"What do you want?" Sang sighed.

"What are you working on?" I tried to be cheery.

"Go away." He closed his shoulders. I grimaced and took a deep breath.

"May I answer this question?" I held up the printout of the email.

He narrowed his eyes at me. Outside, the rain beat against the window and you could barely even see Windsor in the charcoal air of the afternoon.

Finally, "Fine." He returned to his typing. When I tried to glance over his shoulder, he closed the laptop and stared out the window until I walked away.

So, here it goes, Terry. Where do we live? let's find out.

The Renaissance Center:


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The Next Squid piece (from Issue #142):

Notes From The Giant Squid: A Tour of the Lab (part 2)

The Last few Squid pieces (from Issues #140 thru #136):

Notes From The Giant Squid: Brief Notes on These Recentmost Offerings of This Fine Publication

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Notes From The Giant Squid: It All Progresses Swimmingly

Notes From The Giant Squid: My Time as a Child of the '80s

Notes From The Giant Squid: Sunrise-Sunset (An Almanac Item)

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