Sucked Into The Vortex of International Warfare

Mary had become thin and desperate. She yearned for love from the highest quarters and was casting her eyes asunder. Edgar sighed, put his head down and got on with it. He had poetry to write, students to teach and women to love. He was a busy man. He had said to Julian, "It isn't me," and he had been right. Julian had been trying to tell Mary, "It isn't you," but she didn't believe it. Neither did Lovely Goodness, who had been dreaming about girls from primary school. He was telling his wife about it, "I told her that I loved her," he said, "but I wasn't married so it was alright." He knew that she had since grown up, been married twice and had six children. "Don't use her name," he said to Julian, "she's on the net and will put two and two together." Julian couldn't remember the two-barreled name anyway. It had been a good one, that she did know.

Meanwhile, the cruise crept closer. Mary was dealing with Miss Kitty having done her over like a dogs dinner, and the cruise crept closer. Everyone was looking forward to it, although Julian would have liked to have been a little lighter. She couldn't fit into all her new, wonderful clothes, but she knew she would. Sooner would have been better than later, but we can't all have everything, and Ha-Sat-An was working on body image like he never had before. He had mankind in the palm of his hand, working out, running, dieting, looking in mirrors along with the feeling of guilt, and he wasn't about to give up now. Time was running out for him and he was going to do everything he possibly could to prevent people from knowing the truth.

Meanwhile, Edgar had been dreaming of queueing up for an anti-gravity device room with his father as they watched light rain falling in New Zealand. Kids were playing in the rain and so Edgar reasoned that they didn't realise that it was raining because usually in New Zealand the rain was heavy, so he dream reasoned. Mary had been dreaming of sucking the heads of babies at parties, which was too bizarre to even try to logicisice. She admitted as much. Or as sutch.

Saturday dawned fast. The harvest was still there and was much in need of workers. Julian got on with it. Her dream had faded into oblivion, such is life.