'Zaratorio: The Story Continues' is a political parable dedicated in general to everyone who believes in #PeaceinUkraine and who says #NoToWar. More specifically, it is written in support of the brave and generous women and men of Medecins Sans Fro...
'What do you think Zaratorio is plotting?' asks Lauren.
'Who knows ...' replies Jennifer, 'but apart from the occasional attempt to distract us with simulacra of himself, or Circe, he has done very little for many weeks.'
'Indeed, and we must assume that they are either in the far future, or close to the Big Bang, because we cannot find their chrono-signatures in any part of the time vortex that we have reasonably accurate information about.'
'Unless, they have discovered a new cloaking technique which means they can move around with impunity. But the most likely explanation is that they too have information about the Chrono-Police and so they are lying low.'
'I agree with you, Jenny. I wonder how Paulina and the others are getting on.'
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***
The Pechera Club is really jumping, and Melissa's band are continuing to jam long after her set has come to an end. The crowd clearly want to Charleston all night!
'We will miss the last train on the Canarsie Line, if we don't move soon.' Insists the ever practical Anna.
Paulina is rather less concerned about what may, or may not, be happening in Melissa's dressing room, but she is anxious regarding the whereabouts of the club's owner, Artem.
If he really is a a member of the universe's Chrono-Police, as the most recent SISP communications suggest, then she is most concerned that he will recognise that Sehzula is 'living out of time' if the Slavic priestess no longer enjoys the protection of her Buhzan 'camouflage spell'.
'I can only protect us over short distances. I don't have the powers of a fully-fledged biotemp!'
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***
Sehzula is a very reluctant and slightly inebriated 'flapper' as the three time-travellers make their way slowly along the Harlem sidewalk.
'Never mind the Chrono-Police, what happens if she meets the NYPD tonight?' hisses Anna.
Paulina shrugs.
'It's an offence to consume alcoholic beverages in public in this period of American history. So much for the "land of the free", so to speak!' insists her journalistic buddy.
'Look, there is a short time jump; hypnosis, shape shifting. I have a few tricks in my bag if we require them.'
'Oh no ... look ... she's fallen over!'
They scurry back to pick up their drunken friend, who mutters rather breathlessly,
'Melissa, I want to kiss you.'
As they finally approach the subway station, there is an enormous roar which has nothing to do with the scheduled last train.
'What was that?' asks Anna.
'I'm not sure, but I thought I caught sight of a woman, who judging by her shadow, must have been seven feet tall. And my chrono-senses are telling me that it was CIRCE !!'
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