Dammit.

Why the hell can't I find out anything about this chick? Well, I dunno if I count as, "possessed of intersex condition," or not, but... what the hell?

"Prudence!"

Of course there's no answer... which I discover when I stand up and peek over the cubicle wall is because she's not there. Is the world out to frustrate me today?

I put aside the thoughts -- and the folder -- and continue my work for about two hours before I hear my own name hissed in a pseudo-whisper.

"Judy!"

For just a moment, I consider ignoring her, as she did me earlier.

Yes, I know she wasn't there. Never let reality interfere with a good grudge. Shut up.

"What?"

I hear the creaking of her chair as she leans back and pushes it backward to roll along the carpeted office floor as she maneuvers to peek around the wall separating us.

"I think I did it today... 2:11.8 on Barlow!"

I giggled and answered, "Nope. Has to be below two-ten flat. And... I got a new file today. Says agents have to be intersex. Would you count me among intersexed women, or just intersexed individuals, were you to count me or to be counting intersexed women or intersexed individuals in the first place if such an occasion were to arise that you were in need of counting such things as intersexed women or intersexed individuals in the first place -- which is not to imply that there is anything odd or normal either one about the business, pasttime, or even whim that would find one in such a position as mentioned, that being the counting of intersexed women or intersexed individuals which may or may not include myself as such a candidate agent to be listed amongst such a hypothetically necessary or unnecessary list?"

Prudence stared at me in wonder.

"Judy," her lips finally formed an eternity and a moment later, "what the hell are you talking about?"

I think I fried her brain. Hey, if the stereotype is that Chinese restauranteurs serve, 'Fly Lice,' instead of, 'Fry Rice,' -- would fried brain come out as, 'flied blain,' y'think? Why am I having so many anti-PC thoughts today?

Oh. She's waiting for an answer.

"Er... I was handed a new casefile from the high muck-de-mucks today. Take a look," I handed her the file, "so would I count as one of those?"

She scanned the short file and then looked at me, somewhere between amused and annoyed.

"Close enough for government work -- which this is."

Trust Prudence to make the really obvious pun. Well. Or me.

"Is that okay? I mean. Um. Is it a bad thing to be ... that?" I put the question out there like it had a communicable disease.

"What? Why would it be a bad thing?"

"So is that a, 'No,' then?"

"Um. Yes."

"Yes it's a bad thing?"

"No! Yes it's a, 'No,' to your question asking if it's a bad thing."

"Oh! So is it a good thing?"

"It's a thing. It's not really good or bad, just like being able to understand what you're talking about isn't technically good or bad."

"Thanks! Hey... wait..."

She waved me off and got back to work, so I did the same... I guess I'm going to meet with Miss Aisling Fordist. Aisling...