Chapter One

	She lay in the thicket of bushes, waiting for the sun to pass away.
	ÒGod is dead,Ó she whispered to herself.
	ÒCumAndi is dead.  God is very much alive, unless she never existed,Ó 
the head replied.  It lay beside her under the bush.  It peered up into the 
leaves.  She peered out across the savannah.  Gazelles, long-limbed, fed 
under the afternoon sun.  A bird flitted in the treetops above.  The girl 
started, like a rabbit about to run, then settled back into the dirt under 
the bushes.
	ÒGod is dead,Ó she repeated.  Her face, though white, had smears of 
earth upon it.  Her body was frail, momentarily quiescent, still as the 
surrounding trees, yet with a childÕs energy coursing through it, ready to 
spring.
	ÒYouÕll understand he wasnÕt God when youÕre older,Ó the head said.  
It lacked a body, but not a mouth.  One eye was missing.  Wires trailed out 
the bottom of its neck.  It did not have the appearance of a head that had 
been guillotined but, rather, of a head that had been unscrewed.
	ÒHe saved me,Ó the girl said in a quiet voice.  It came with her 
breath, giving her the appearance of being breathless.  The voice of one 
who is ten, but speaking of important matters.
	ÒHe didnÕt save your Lucky Charms,Ó the head replied.  It gazed 
blithely into the bush above them.  Its one eye blinked, seemed to wish to 
close, then popped open.  ÒI need my eyelid oiled when you get a chance,Ó it 
said.
	ÒOf *course* He didnÕt save my Lucky Charms!Ó the girl snapped.  
ÒThey werenÕt real.  Or, if they were, they werenÕt really.  Not like IÕm 
real.  They were just part-- part of the E cage.Ó
	ÒYes, part of your cage,Ó the head said.  ÒItÕs called an Emulsion 
Cage.  You were grown for scientific purposes by the Sisterhood, to be 
studied.  But never to be let out of your cage.  Just like him.  Except he 
escaped from his cage, then broke into you and rescued you.  Sorry, I didnÕt 
mean to imply he was...Ó the head paused for effect, and wondering if the 
child would get the joke.  Ò...inadequate.Ó
	ÒHe wasnÕt indequate!!Ó the girl answered.  ÒAnyways, me and teddy 
are going to get revenge for him.  You can come along if you want.  If you 
want your eyeball oiled.Ó  She glared at him.
	ÒGod knows, IÕm safer out here, rusting away in all this humidity,Ó 
the head said.  ÒLook Kal,Ó
	ÒKalia,Ó the girl corrected.  ÒKal is a guy who sells used cars on 
T.V.Ó
	ÒKalia,Ó the head said.  ÒIsnÕt your name spelled with-- oh, well.  
Never mind.  Tell you what.  IÕll call you Kalia if you call me Plato.  Deal?Ó
	ÒNope,Ó the girl said.  ÒYouÕre Bot.  Pure and simple.  Unless you go 
with me.  Then IÕll call you Plato.Ó
	The head grinned to itself, tried not to let it show.  He was a head.  
He had no arms and legs.  He would go exactly where she, or anyone, 
carried him, with absolutely no say in the matter.  But she was only ten.  
So, to little Van, that is, Kalia, he apparently had a say.  That was worth a 
lot, to a head with no body.Ó
	ÒOkay,Ó the head answered.  ÒIf you call me Plato, IÕll go with you.  
Incidentally, Plato was known for being very wise.  So you might say my 
name with a certain reverence.  Sort of like the revernce you use when you 
pronounce the name of your ÔGod,Õ CumAndi.Ó
	The girl wiped her nose with her fist.  ÒTo me he was God,Ó she 
murmured.  She pulled her teddy bear closer to her in the dirt as if to 
reassure herself of her faith.
	ÒWhere, Kalia, shall we be going?Ó the head asked.
	ÒNoplace Ôtil night comes,Ó the girl answered.
	ÒObviously,Ó the head said.  ÒI considered that implied in my 
question.  The Sisterhood is still looking for us.  YouÕre the sole survivor 
of the human race, as it existed before the Metamorphosis.  That Ôholy dayÕ 
when the Sisterhood turned itself into lizard women to assume a more 
beautiful form, and one unattractive to men, as the Book of the Goddess 
tells us.  Actually a virus escaped, during a nuclear war, and the only 
survivors were females, mutated into lizards.Ó  The head seemed to sigh, 
though it had no lungs.  ÒAll is the Will of the Goddess in hindsight, though 
she didnÕt exist when it all happened.  Humans worshipped a paternal God, 
back then.Ó
	ÒCumAndi was God,Ó the girl said, gazing out at the savannah again.  
She sighed.  It was a real sigh, made by air passing up from the lungs.  She 
watched the gazelles slowly cross the sun-warmed grass and wished she 
possessed such freedom.
	A soft patter of rain began falling.  It was a warm, tropical rain.  It 
wettened the leaves of the trees overhead, of the bush they were hiding 
under.  In time the rain trickled down, and began dripping on the girl.  She 
drew the head closer to herself, placed her palm underneath it, to lift it 
off the gently moistening earth.
	ÒDo you think theyÕll find us?Ó Kalia whispered.
	ÒThe Sisterhood?Ó the head answered.  
	ÒYes, Play-Doh,Ó the Siterhood, Kalia said.
	The head didnÕt catch the girlÕs change in his name.  She was 
oblivious.  There was only one ÔPlatoÕ she knew of.  It was a can, it held 
clay, and if it was very wise, it must be because it could be turned into so 
many shapes.
	ÒWho else could catch us?Ó the girl asked, scrunching up her nose.
	ÒOh, lions, tygers, and bears,Ó the head answered.  His Blake-ian 
reference was lost on the girl.  ÒAnd others.  But youÕre right.  ItÕs the 
Siterhood that knows youÕre somewhere out here, and wants you.  Badly.  
YouÕre the last remnant.  The last human.Ó  The head grinned.  ÒAnd IÕm 
made in your image, sort of.  Appropriate for acting out feminist sex 
domination fantasies, if you can find me a human body.  I was designed to 
play the submissive, but, thanks to a little rewiring, I can be the dominant 
if you insist.Ó
	ÒYou talk about strange stuff,Ó Kalia answered.  ÒBut I like you,Ó she 
said.  She gave the head a wet kiss on his cheek.  
	The headÕs one eye blinked.  ÒI think thatÕs the first honest kiss I 
ever got in my entire existence,Ó it said.  A tear came to its eye.  It 
blinked.  It went away. 
	ÒWeÕll wait until dark,Ó Kalia whispered.  She looked up through the 
leaves of the hedge at the sun.  ÒYou can tell me more strange stuff if you 
like.Ó

	Jillian Ansen floated back down into her chair.  SheÕd been demoted.  
But at least she wasnÕt a private.  Gulf, once head of security for 
Wellesley College for Wyman, had been put in charge of policing the trash 
outside the big, clitoral-shaped research building.  It was a big job.  It 
was a big building.  It generated a lot of trash in a day.  All the other 
janitors had been transferred, so Gulf could have the biggest job possible.  
ÒFor your mentality,Ó as Renno had added.  Any litter she missed was a 
cause for shock therapy at Medicinal Psychotherapy.  
	As for Jillian, sheÕd escaped with little more.  She was no longer 
Governess of Education.  Now she was a secretary for Renno.  She did 
typing, and shorthand, and took dictation.  Any failures on her part 
required a trip for counseling, though not shock therapy, at Medicinal 
Psychotherapy.  ÒCounselingÓ consisted of cleaning the cages of the 
experimental rats they used in Medicinal Psychotherapy.  It wasnÕt a 
pleasant job, cleaning up rat dung because of a typo in a letter.
	Yet she could still levitate.  Not on company time, of course, except 
when she knew no one was watching.  She couldnÕt go high, that would give 
her away.  But an inch, just enough to get her bottom out of the chair, that 
she could get away with.  And it wasnÕt easy lifting up her 352 lbs., using 
just her mind.  But it was exercise.  And sometimes, when no one was 
looking, and she thought she had the time, she teleported.  Just a little.  
From the chair behind her desk to the chair where the filing cabinet was.  
Once sheÕd teleported her backside not to the chair seat, but to the chair 
arm, and broken it.  But now, she could manage without missing the seat.  
And sometimes, after work, if she was last out of the building, and 
concentrated very hard, she could teleport herself all the way downstairs 
to the ladiesÕ room.  
	ÒYes, well, donÕt bother with the helicraft, IÕll just teleport myself 
to the meeting,Ó Renno said with a wave of her hand.  She stalked into the 
office.  She was dismissive in manner, to her aids.  And to Jillian.  Except 
when Jillian had made a typo.  With long strides she walked over to 
JillianÕs printer and yanked a sheet of paper from it.
	ÒYes... yes,Ó Renno said.  She read the paper quickly.  ÒTemperature 
up another half degree, eh?  I swear, the Great Goddess gave us the Big 
Bang, the beauty of the virus, but our primitive ancestors sure blew the 
hell out of the temperature.  If this keeps up we may as well name the 
continent North Africa.Ó
	ÒYes, maÕam,Ó two female aides, standing behind Renno, at a 
respectful distance, chimed.  They were bare legged, and bare waisted, as 
the dress code required.  Renno, older and bearing the dignity of high rank, 
wore a long robe that swathed her body down to her knees.  It was royal 
purple in color.  The females standing behind her, and Jillian, wore vests.  
JillianÕs was beige.  The two females had chosen brighter colors; one 
canary yellow, the other sunset red.
	Without turning to look at her, Renno asked Jillian, ÒThe girl has 
been caught?  WhatÕs her name?  I hate using the word ÔnameÕ for an 
animal but, it is convenient.Ó
	ÒKalia,Ó one of the female aides said.
	ÒKalia,Ó Renno murmured.  ÒYes.  She has been caught?Ó
	Jillian cringed.  ÒNot yet, Madam Renno,Ó she answered.
	Renno stiffened.  ÒThis is unacceptable,Ó she said.  Her voice had a 
cold iciness to it.  She turned.  She looked at Jillian.  Her eyes, already 
slitted, narrowed further.  Jillian, despite her large size, did her best to 
shrink herself down behind her desk.  
	The aides, already at a respectful distance, stepped back from Renno.  
They were well trained.  Others might have offered advice, condolences, 
but they had learned long ago that proferring such humane gestures to 
Renno only earned you a trip to Medicinal Psychotherapy.
	Renno tilted her head to one side as she gazed at Jillian.  There was 
the silence of death in the room.  When she spoke, at last, her voice was 
like the crack of a whip.  
	ÒDonÕt think IÕm unaware of your powers,Ó Renno said sharply to 
Jillian.  The fat woman hunched behind the desk, behind the computer atop 
the desk, was about to blurt out an apology for teleporting herself to the 
toilet when Renno spoke again.  ÒYou killed seven of my guards,Ó Renno 
said.  She spoke, as always, as if every last female in the Sisterhood was 
her personal property.  ÒOf course, I had to demote you for that.  And for 
losing the animal.  But what you set in motion did eventually result in the 
animal being captured.  And questioned.  He offered nothing, but thatÕs 
Medicinal PsychotherapyÕs fault, not yours.  No.  And the killings, that was 
a necessary act one rarely sees in this feminized Sisterhood,Ó Renno said.  
The word feminized was spoken with a particular scorn.  ÒSo IÕm putting 
you in charge.  Yes.  You.  Your worthless ass.  And this time youÕre going to 
succeed, where you failed before.  DonÕt expect to be let off with a job 
cleaning up after rats if you fail this time,Ó Renno said.
	Jillain gasped.  She hunched lower behind her computer, in 
genuflection.  Then she burst out, ÒThank you Madam Renno!Ó
	Renno turned away.  ÒDonÕt thank me.  Just do your job.  DO it!Ó Renno 
said.  And she stalked into the windowless cell of a room she had long ago 
claimed as her office.
	ÒYes, Madam Renno,Ó Jillian breathed.  She was going to mention that 
she needed a LiftChair, that walking was a great effort for her, but she 
caught herself just in time.  Renno had no use for trivialities.  The 
paperwork, once the aides generated it, would contain, to be sure, all the 
necessary titles and accomodations.  Perhaps even a requisition for a 
new-style LiftChair, like Andrea the Theorist had.  Catching the loose 
female animal, the Kalia, was a top priority.

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