Hatrid: I'm heating up the oceans. Soon, everyone will die, a horrible death, scalded by steam. Already, rain begins... Mindmistress: It doesn't matter. I've reasoned that I became a neohuman when grown. Imitative play is part of every childhood---but it would trap a neohuman mind.Mindmistress: If My fantasy is of a neohuman culture...there must be few neohumans in the real world.  I may be unique...alone...in a world of the half-sentient.

Mindmistress: I may have no lover or child there---since they are the key to my happiness here. Others may want me, badly, if I'm one of the few, or the lone, neohuman.  I may be a fugitive.  Everybody may want me for what my mind can do...Hatrid: You certainly are an egotistical mote. I'm your id? I'm tearing up your imagined world? Mindmistress: I know how it sounds---but nothing else makes sense.

Click on the eye in the first panel to return to Vicki's predicament.



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