“Out of the mouths of babes,” and all that gives a little exposition into Henge’s substance. I think, but do not know, that she was so focused on her love of Gary that she never fully considered the extent of what someone such as her would do to a recovering community. She’s obviously welcome, but I suspect there is still an undercurrent of “what is that?”

Which is precisely the last line of this installment. Next one will be tricky, so likely out late tomorrow. Cheers, all.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

There was a ripple of reaction as she walked onto the old fairgrounds.  “Celebrity” was the old, disused word.  Knowing she disliked too much attention, rather than cheering her arrival, there were smiles and waves.  A few shouted their wares:  “Henge!  Fresh produce!”  “Missus Hartmann!  I was up before dawn making this sausage!”  She took a moment to pull the first canvas bag from her backpack.  A purse at her waist, just under her K-Bar knife, a gift from her cousin Lily in Texas, had some copper and silver coins.  Paper was still suspect and she was always honest with people.

With humans, she thought before scolding herself for thinking something so rude.  To her right was a stall with fresh eggs.  Not wanting to put them into the bottom of the bag, she paid for a dozen and said she’d collect them as she left.

We have become a remarkably high-trust society.  Credit where it was due, that was largely the racial policies of the First Councilman MacRae – dictator in all but name – who did make the mistake of arresting her then-boyfriend once, because of his half-Min Chinese blood.  A Machine then, Henge killed all power to the city and demanded his release.  MacRae backed down and used taxation policies to… encourage resettlement.  The Knoxville-Oak Ridge City-State was now over eighty-five percent White.  My Gary one of the outliers.  And, of course, whatever I am.

“Miss Henge!  Miss Henge!” A little girl, Matty, she recalled, was tugging on her overalls.  “Mommy said I’ve been a good girl all week!  Will you bless me?”

Thankful for her faster thought, in moving her burnished gold eyes from the little girl to her mother’s, Susanna, next to her, Henge managed to smile and not scowl.

“I am not clergy, dear Matty,” she said with an edge to the mother, “but I will pray that God blesses you.”

She knelt in the grass and put both her hands onto Matty’s head.  “Urendi Maleldil.”

“Yikes!” the child cried.  “All sparkly!  All tickly!  You’re the best, Miss Henge!”

As they moved off while she stood, Henge did glance at her hands.  It’s not something I can control.  As my silly sister-in-law says, I am made of diamonds and star-stuff.  Were it darker, everyone would see I’m just a little brighter than them, why I hate going out at night.  Some have said they can see a halo. And my nano-materials still interact with human flesh in surprising ways.  My husband looks ten years younger than he is.  Little Matty will now look five until she’s ten.  I really need to stop this.

She brushed at one of her twin-tails and flashed a grin at the next stall:  tomatoes and carrots.  Roland, who at three was toddling around after his father at the hospital, already fascinated by medicine, loved tomatoes.  Aurie?  Not so much, but that was for the next stall, jerky from a ranch northeast of town.

She is more physically active and either Gary or me.  Not quite five, she wants to spend all her time with her aunt, the empress.  I fear she will want to follow in her military and political footsteps.  My Beloved is horrified by the thought; I’m just sad that my daughter will never know a quiet, normal life.

Some cheeses, fresh-caught fish from the Tennessee River, she moved back with her second bag now out to collect her eggs.  My eggs, she thought with a moue.

“Daddy!  Who is that lady?  She looks weird!”