Golem 100

19

Subadar Ind’dni appeared absorbed in Droney Lafferty’s bizarre collections while the Ghoul Squad hauled out the wrapped bodies, the Molecular Squad hypo’d their print readouts and left, the Telly Squad left, the Media Team left, and the Polizei and Hommie Squad left, carrying with them the noose, laser, pistol, scalpel and (CN)₂ bulb, all eternalized in plastic. When they were at last alone, Ind’dni turned from the vitrines and spoke to the stunned Wish-Shima.

“Merely going through motions for Legal,” Ind’dni said. “Legal is obsessed with evidence factual which they add and subtract and compute. They are accountants at heart. It is my belief they are all failed IRS candidates.”

“I killed him,” Shima-Wish muttered.

“It will never come to trial,” the Subadar continued casually, “unless I press for speedy action. Calendar at present is back-logged seventy-nine years. Judges are appointed, serve, retire, die, and never have tried a case that initiated during their term on the bench. I myself have seen in court grandchildren of accusers and accused, perpetrators and victims, standing before grandchildren of judges. You must now regain control, Dr. Shima. Strength is required. You must strive for the beckoning primal pinnacle, and I’m sure you will achieve it along with Miz Nunn. I envy you.”

“I killed him.”

“So you did. It is permitted to ask: as Dr. Blaise Shima or as Mr. Wish?”

“I won’t plead insanity.”

“Most honorable but please to answer question. Did you burn the brain of our celebrated necrophiliac as Dr. Shima or as Mr. Wish? Can you remember?”

“As both.”

“Bravo! Good news indeed. Then your moieties are on speaking terms at last. They are aware of each other and reconciled to each other. Result of witnessing shocking outrage perpetrated against Winifred Ashley, no doubt. Most fortunate disaster for you, doctor; it has welded you together. I doubt very much whether your fugues will ever again occur.”

“I burned him in cold blood,” Shima persisted.

“And now you want luxury of repentance? You were raised French Catholic in a place called Johnstown, yes? Tsk! Their floods have washed them back into the Medieval. This is the enlightened twenty-second century after Christ, doctor. If Johnstown cannot think in modern terms, Jesus surely would if He returned to the Guff. The spirit of that sage is always in touch with the times.”

“I killed him in cold blood.”

“And you need no longer feel guilty about Mr. Wish. He was instrumental in destroying the Queen Bee and the hive-home of the Golem. Discontinue your pauvre petit obsession, I beg.”

Shima croaked.

Ind’dni spoke slowly and distinctly. “Doctor, you killed Lafferty in self-defense.”

Shima stared. Ind’dni nodded. “That is my version for Legal. You saw him strangle Winifred Ashley with the choke collar. He arose from her body with chain in hand. You feared you would be next to be murdered by this insane creature, and rightly so, for you were sole witness. So you killed him in self-defense. Homicide found corpse with chain in hand. Quod erat demonstrandum.”

Shima’s head wobbled dazedly. “But—But you’re always so—so—such pure, unadulterated cop.”

Ind’dni sighed. “Alas, the Western world can never fathom our values, which is why you have always failed in India.” His tone turned brisk. “Now come, doctor. There is Miz Nunn to consider. Last bulletin informs that she is enroute to P.L.O. pyramid to negotiate a contract on Miz Ashley. I have had death of latter much publicized through Media to forestall madame’s involvement with the PloFather, but am informed that the pyramid admits no current news. We must go in person.”

“Informed? How?”

Ind’dni clicked his tongue again. “Has not that remarkable woman told you that once she enabled a P.L.O. girl to elope with a Christian infidel?”

“No. She did?”

“She did, at great personal risk. The girl is still grateful.”

“And this P.L.O. girl is your source?”

“No, her husband is. The infidel is precinct chess champion I mentioned previous. Now we must act quickly, Dr. Shima. I cannot send staff; they would never gain entrance. We may, on our own recognizances. The PloFather is a dangerous woman, and Miz Nunn may find herself webbed in disaster attempting to bargain for the murder of someone already demised.”

“But wait a minute, Subadar. Doesn’t the death of the Queen Bee mean the end of the Golem? Won’t that solve all our problems? That was Gretchen’s theory.”

Ind’dni was exasperated. “Do not plague me, I beg, doctor. You have just joined the pieces of yourself together at a frightful cost. And now you ask me to put all other pieces of this deadly crisis together? Instantly? And at what price? Come, please!”

* * *

When a commune loses its queen, the subjects lose all sense of order. They become distracted, irritable, aggressive, and begin to cluster in desperation. Occasional loners may join the cluster, kindled by the angry vibrations. Occasional “false queens” may try to take over the commune but are treated with a mixture of token respect and impatient hostility. Only a true queen can win true respect and gather the cluster into another ordered commune. But to generate a true queen, a royal home and royal food must be provided, and then she must be coaxed out to be mated by the world.

* * *

He’s dead he’s dead and the piebald son of a bitch never got around to changing his will like he kept threatening I’m burning a fancy number where she’s taking it up the ass and he’s on one knee what are you burning Yenta oh lovely she’s taking it in her tits while he’s standing on his head let’s all go to India drink up drink up use the ear trumpets for glasses just shove your thumb over the ear end and fill up drink up he’s dead the bastard black and white for Christ’s sake Mary how long does it take to get a walking stick fire going never mind the gold heads let’m burn and melt just knock their noses off Sarah but save the Nell Gwyn mask for me I want to do a special number on her Pi-face what the hell are you doing here yes yes we know Regina’s dead it’s all over the Guff we know we know you don’t know what to do drink up girl grab a container an eyecup an ear trumpet a snuffbox fill up and drink up hey Priss got a stick between your legs at last no baby it’s no hobbyhorse and if you could straddle like that on a real stick you could teach India lessons hey here’s a wild position where they’re ouch I burned myself how’s that fire doing Mary hey Ood Ud come into the bedroom and help me lug out that damn coffin he made me lie in the son-of-a-bitch we’re going to burn it Christ it’s heavy you’re dead the black-and-white freak said you’re dead you’re not breathing your heart’s stopped beating you’re white as death Mary you’re a genius blowing it up like that help her Pi we’ll blow up all the French letters and have a balloon ascension no Ood stick the small end into the fire first it’ll fit help her swing it around Ud that goddam cedar ought to burn like crazy Christ knows how many times I did a burn in it while that piebald bastard told me I was dead I wasn’t breathing my heart stopped beating and dangling his polka-dot prick in my dead face because that was the only thing that could stiffen it hey great the coffin’s caught I wish he was in it dead or alive Jesus he was dead anyway but wouldn’t admit it but he never changed his will and I’ve got Regina to thank for that when I take over like BB said we’ll hold services for Regina every week we’ll play funeral and take turns delivering the eulogy and I’m going to have the piebald son-of-a-bitch buried at a crossroad with a stiff prick through his heart will you look at that coffin burn but the satin stinks Pi-girl you’ll come and work for me girl so don’t worry Jesus Christ look at those flames the ceiling’s caught my God three cheers the whole goddam freakhouse is going to go up and to hell with it he never changed his will I can live where I goddam please and for how much I Christly please and let’s get the hell out of here before we catch fire not that I’m not on fire already bring the French letter balloons and any other souvenirs you want from his slob collections come on to Sarah’s saloonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

‘Tis BEAUTY calls and GLORY shows the WAY Alexander the Great Act I Scene 3 ladies I can NOT permit us to look like this we are be-DRAGGLED we are un-BEAUT-i-ful we have failed our duty to our public we must dress to the nines and my wardrobe is yours and my dresser this is darling Norah my dresser is yours and NORAH will GARB you FITT-ingly and in character starting with me of course because I am the

of the company sequins silver sequins Norah and slinky form-fitting with rhinestone straps Nellie of course will be GAFOOZALUM the harlot of Jerusalem put her in the belly-dancer drag no no Yenta don’t object I’ve cast you in a role that will CREAM your devoted public Norah dress Yenta Calienta in the Delilah rags but put a beard on her and turn her into Moïse Mary Mixup does the soubrette bit playing the lady’s maid of pertness and intrigue no no Pi-face you won’t be a servant in service my God these sequins scratch the boozalum you become HOBO the wandering worker and darling Norah will give you the original Hollywood costume it was a place out west in the entertainment business before it fell into itself Priss is BEAUTY in the fable the Cinderella ballgown for her Norah and Oodgedye and Udgedye will play a two-headed BEAST in fright-wigs and that eight-armed drag from Scriabin’s Kackula the Monster That Ate Nizhni Novgorod what Norah you want to join us come on then but in what role I know the BOADICEA I played in the play of the same name you can’t have the chariot it’s in some warehouse but you can spray yourself blue with the cobalt on my dressing table my god you’re all FANTASTIC ladies mag-NIF-i-cent we’re the greatest show on earth all we need is fanfares TA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DUM-DEE-DUM and we’re going to dress up like this at every meeting I hold here and where to now great Yenta’s place great great GREAT applause applause APPLAUSE curtain call curtain call curtain call bows bows BOWSSSSSSSSSSSS

The carpenter in the nail apron making with the glue and the pegboard is Bimmy Braham my personal private rabbi say hello vos macht ir to the ladies of my colony Bimbo they’ve all heard about you which is why I’m protective I wish you all could see Bim’s kidney transplant but we didn’t have a window installed I traded a first edition of Gray’s Anatomy for it only two pages missing in the middle and the donor never noticed if he ever does and tries to repossess his kidney mazel tov is all try our vodka ladies we brew it ourselves Bimmy and me sure the restaurants give you their potato peelings and carrot tops and corncobs and wilted greens if you haul the junk away saves them garbage fees Bim and I schlep the stuff back here and ferment it and distill it and Bimbo pronounces the conjure word congener and hey presto one hundred proof redeye vodka it’s the beet skins that give it the color drink up drink up you like the glasses huh Mary they’re my prize collection of logo plastics you get them for free advertising you know my favorite is this number from Mugative that’s the mouthwash you use and your breath is guaranteed to set a mugger’s face on fire I don’t know how they do it the miracle of modern chemistry I guess drink up drink up the redeye won’t set anything on fire but your pipiks no there’s nothing dirty or suggestive about that rug Priss it’s all innocent geometric design there was a hell of a hole in the center but Bim and I rewove it I had to trade a thundermug for the wool the mug had a crack in it but the dye in the wool ran so it all came out even drink up drink up I want to try a lobster vodka from free shells but my Bimbo won’t drink it because it isn’t kosher Bim show the two-headed monster that movie poster of Drekula we got in a trade for the makeup mirror with Sarah Heartburn Bimmy hey Bimbo-baby Roboynov shel oylom she’s smashed she’s stoned we’re all fractured jingle jangled Gottenu Bim you’re exploding the glue it’s going up like Roman candles doesn’t mix with congeners huh out out come on come on everybody out let’s buzz buzz buzz off you too Bim be with the fellas no don’t get out of your jump suit and keep the apron you’ll be in drag like the rest of us in the hive and let that hammer keep hanging from your delicious delectable divine assssssssssssssssssssssss

No mizuzes this is not a pubic mardygrass it is a private celebration I don’t know what the vibes are for maybe for my former miztress person which she was murdered something cruel by the man person which was married to my present new miztress person of generosity oh I don’t know if you can join the vibes you’ll have to ask some person in charge but I don’t know whom she excuse me whom the person is why don’t you ask my present miztress person whom is wearing the belly-dancerrrrrrrrrr

Hey sure the more the merrier who the hell hey are you two suckers Emily Post Mortem yeah and Joan who what Coldslaw Jesus Christ on a raft what a name Coldslaw with or without mayo have a belt have a smack Emily-Joan and take off those brassbound bras we’re too many for the Guff rape schtik off off and let the tits vibrate each way free we’re going to the two-headed monster’s pads you heard me plural with an S sure it’s got two pads it’s got two twibbies don’t it one for every two legs one for every two tits I wish I had two for one in reverse if you dig and my yancemen had two for two what a ball it would be to take it both ways from one yanceman what a ball with brave ball-busting vibrations vibrations vibrationssssssssssssssssss

No it’s no accident we bought everything in dup

No it’s no accident we bought everything in dup

licate and the apartments are dupes too no I object to

licate and the apartments are dupes too no I object to

telling you whose apartment this is I don’t even remember

telling you whose apartment this is I don’t even remember

myself we’re in and out of both so much that I lose track

myself we’re in and out of both so much that I lose track

no we’re listed separately downstairs in security I’m

no we’re listed separately downstairs in security I’m

Germaine Storm we made sure to hook our husbands in dup-

Lorraine Drang we made sure to hook our husbands in dup-

licate too young men in grey flannel jump suits which is

licate too young men in grey flannel jump suits which is

why they never notice the different vibes in bed buzz buzz

why they never notice the different vibes in bed buzz buzz

is all the same to them and BB was wrong when she said that

is all the same to them and BB was wrong when she said that

they knew and liked it and Larry kept his mouth shut about

they knew and liked it and Barry kept his mouth shut about

the scam about the only thing we don’t dupe is the squeam

the scam about the only thing we don’t dupe is the squeam

scene you hard-line a joint like this see and then you

scene you hard-line a joint like this see and then you

have ignition and liftoff and space on a far-out buzz

have ignition and liftoff and space on a far-out buzz

but we’re not together on that Lorraine uses a single

but we’re not together on that Germaine uses a double

line and I don’t dig her style because it’s too hard you’ve

line and I don’t dig her style because it’s too soft you’ve

got to try it my way all you ladies buzz buzz into the far

got to try it my way all you ladies buzz buzz into the far

out buzz you might as well get used to it because we’ll be

out buzz you might as well get used to it because we’ll be

igniting and burning and spacing every time we meet here

igniting and burning and spacing every time we meet here

buzz buzz that’s the way we have countdown we have ig-

buzz buzz that’s the way we have countdown we have ig-

nition we have liftoff we have far-out buzzzzzzzzzzzz

nition we have liftoff we have far-out buzzzzzzzzzzzz

And these are my four roomies Dixie and Nixie and Pixie we all went to school together that’s funny Dixie that’s one Nixie that’s two Pixie that’s three how did I ever get to four oh of course I’m the fourth I forgot me Mary and Dixie and Nixie and Pixie four and we have seven husbands one apiece except one has three me I think but I’m not sure I lose count and they’re all so nice now let’s have some more drinks and squeams the liquor is in Dixie’s darkroom of course it makes sense Nell D for darkroom and D for Dixie who’s our bartender Nixie keeps the squeams in her bedroom and that makes sense too Nell because a Nixie is a female water sprite and we always shoot our smack with water I wouldn’t anybody sit on that couch please just now it’s got our prickly needly cactus plants under it because it’s their resting season and they need dark oh Yenta please don’t explore that closet oh please don’t open the door there see what you’ve done I was storing everything in that closet until we could arrange everything and now you’ve turned the whole lounge into a closet everything poured out like an avalanche and there’s no room for us now because everything’s underfoot why Pixie there’s that sleep-reader we were looking for and I could have sworn it was in the tape cabinet with the Irish music don’t be silly Nell I for intellect of course so drink up and squeam up everybody and let’s get out before we trample all the goodies and next meeting here you’ll all have to help arrange things come on everybody you too Dixie and Nixie and Pixie bring the drinkables and squeamables onward and upward to Priss no she doesn’t live high up in a penthouse really Nell you’re impossible her real name is Hilda Hayes H for heights which makes sense to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Mummy is reviving the Victorian style which is why the palm leaves over the pictures and all the tassels and all the fringes and the skirts around the piano legs no not Victoria the fourth she was wicked she was no lady the first Victoria who was married to Prince Albert who was always the perfect gentleman Mummy says that Victoria wasn’t a perfect lady because she had bad table manners Mummy says there aren’t many ladies left and gentlemen are hard to find I do not wish to be discourteous and would be happy to entertain you all but I don’t think Mummy would like to see what you’re doing when she comes home seven-letter vibrations with each other are rude even though we are all the identical ess ee ex and when you come back for the weekly meetings Mummy will be here to chaperone and make us mind our manners so perhaps it would be best to leave now and visit BB who is a genuine lady and in every sense the perfect queen that Victoria was not I’m sure that Mummy will admire BB much more than Victoria and try to find another perfect Prince Albert for her it’s awful to be alone and wasted please please please Mummy will be back any moment let’s go to BB’s place please please please pretty pleaseeeeeeeeeeeee

Hey you Chorley-grills you’re one hell of a corner combo great street trio have a smack on us have a blast Nell I think it would only be polite to make a contribution of appreciation Sure Prissy drop some change in their pessary Hey twins you dig the way big-tits cuddles her clarry-o-net in her cleavage you want to ride it hobby horse Mary how about that fat-ass on the horn Bimmy beats your hammer-hung ass any time Maybe Nelly-belly but could she try blasting it from her other end Have a bomb you suckers Have a blast Have a buzz Listen you want to trade your slide-horn for a squeezebox with only one key missing I HAVE IT I HAVE IT they ought to dress their act with CLOWN makeup where’s Norah NORAH DAHL-ing did you bring my coshmetics cos-meshiks Dixie didn’t we shtow a clown hit height hat in yr closet or wash it in Joaney Cabbages no she don’t room with us well you make childsloug out’ve chabbage don’t you Hey play an upbeat funeral march for the b/w bashtard Chorley-girls Wacht auf, verdammte dieser Erde I don’t think these grills speak England my Mummy says that music is the Juneversal language Hey pessary-grills you tollerday donsk you talkatiff scowegian you spiggotty angleasy you phonio saxonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn all they twig is B-flat so go on making music and come with wiz no with us to the heiths hoyts hits howls highs heights got it at last Shrrist I’m bombed we’re all bombeddd buzzzzzz bobbed bombed bombeddddddddddddddddd

* * *

Ind’dni and Shima located Gretchen at last. They caught a glimpse of her profile through the open window of a magnificent black brougham; she was seated on the far side of the legendary PloFather, who was making one of her rare public processions. The carriage was drawn by camels, of course, and escorted by tough P.L.O. soldiers. Sheikh Omar ben Omar was up front in the open coachman’s box supervising the outing. Every so often he scattered bronze piasters to the excited crowds. An occasional scrofuletic was permitted through the cordon to be touched by the PloFather’s spidery hand. In this psychosomatic century her touch cured the King’s Evil as often as not.

Using every karate trick he knew, Shima twisted through the crowd to the edge of the cordon. “Gretchen!” he shouted. “Gretchen! Can you hear me? It’s Blaise. We’ve got to go to a funeral.”

“What? What?” Gretchen leaned forward and peered past the PloFather. “Is that you, Blaise?”

“Yes. Can you hear me? We have to attend Winifred Ashley’s funeral.”

“Who? What?”

“Winifred Ashley. She’s dead. She was killed. Don’t make any deals with the P.L.O. The Queen Bee’s dead.”

The brougham door was thrust open and Gretchen was out like a shot followed, amazingly, by the psychomancer, Salem Burne. Shima hustled her through the crowd to Ind’dni who was waiting at the fringe. Burne followed.

“Most welcome, madame,” Ind’dni said. “It is permitted to inquire whether we found you in time? Have you completed contract with P.L.O.?”

“Yes,” Gretchen gasped.

“Extremely odd. Why, then, did the PloFather permit your departure?”

Still too breathless to speak, Gretchen could only point to Burne.

“Good evening, Mr. Burne.” Ind’dni nodded courteously. “I take it you have some influence with the PloFather?”

“Good evening, Subadar.” Burne was smooth and polished as ever, despite his rough passage through the mob. “I take it this is in confidence?”

“Most certainly.”

“The PloFather is my patient.”

Shima was flabbergasted. “You have to be guffing!”

“Why so surprised, doctor?” Burne permitted his controlled face to reveal humor. “I told you that most of my patients are women.”

“But—”

“And the PloFather takes my advice. I suggested—one never commands a patient—that it would be best to release Miz Nunn.”

Gretchen finally caught her breath. “Now what’s all this? Regina dead? Killed?”

“Alas yes, madame, by Mr. Lafferty in bizarre circumstances. Lafferty was subsequently killed by Dr. Shima… in self-defense.”

“What? Regina? Droney?” Gretchen shook her head. “What a scam. Unbelievable! What happened? How? When? I—I’ve got to be filled in.”

“Most assuredly, Miz Nunn, but not in this crowd. Where will you feel most receptive? My office? Dr. Shima’s penthouse? My apartment?”

“No, mine. Let’s go.”

“Then I’ll be taking my leave,” Burne said. “Good evening to you all.”

“No,” Gretchen said. “That wouldn’t be fair, after all you’ve done for us. You were in on the beginning; you should be in on the end.”

Transport was impossible to find during the evening rush hour, so they were forced to walk to Gretchen’s Oasis in the Guff’s “Old Town,” which had once been the despised Lower East Side of Old New York. Now it was fashionable, expensive, and glamorously restored, from delicatessens to pushcarts. Gretchen’s Oasis had been cut, tunneled, and excavated out of the giant masonry pier of Brooklyn Bridge.

There was an outrageous uproar pounding out of the apartment as the four approached from the elevator; cacophonous music from competing brass, piano and harpsichord, singing, screaming, shouting, buzzing; and there were competing songs: HAIL! HAIL! THE GUFF’S ALL HERE… THERE ONCE WAS AN INDIAN MAID… THAT MASTURBATIN’ FORNICATIN’ SON-OF-A-BITCH COLUMBO… SWEET VIOLETS SWEETER THAN THE ROSES… ROLL ME OVER IN THE CLOVER…

“Jesus God!” Gretchen exclaimed. “What’s all this?”

“The Golem?” Shima was still on edge.

“Surely not in multiple, doctor,” Ind’dni murmured.

“Hardly an atmosphere for consultation,” Burne said. “Perhaps my place in Hell Gate?”

“D’you think it could be the PloFather striking back at me? She—” Then Gretchen saw one of her staff standing stricken alongside the door. “Alex! What’s all this?”

“They’re crazy, Miz Nunn. They broke in.”

“Broke in? Through Security? How?”

“I don’t know how. They broke in and threw me out. No drones in here, they said. No male animals. This is a queen cell, they said. Then they chopped through to the Raxon apartment under us for more room and ordered up food and—”

“They? Who they?”

“Lunatics in crazy costumes. Go in, Miz. You’ll see. They’re waiting for you. Dozens and dozens and dozens of them.” He pushed the door open.

There were indeed dozens and dozens and dozens. The Raxons, mother and three daughters, had not only surrendered their apartment downstairs, but joined the swarm. Gretchen’s two girl assistants had joined. Three of the Security guards from the Oasis lobby (women) had joined, which accounted for the unprecedented break-in. The two apartments had been transformed into a giant duplex with a makeshift ladder thrust through the crater in the smashed floor. Figurantes, columbines, ballet girls, pulcinellas, soubrettes, even a belly-dancer clung to it like grape clusters, heaving, shouting, singing.

Hi-ho, Gafoozalum,

The Big Bang of Jerusalum.

Hi-ho, Gafoozalum,

The vengeance of the rabbi.

With yancey glance and lustful look

She lured him to a secret nook.

She cracked his crotch and out she took

The pride of all Jerusalum.

Hi-ho, Gafoozalum,

The Big Rang of Jerusalum.

Hi-ho, Gafoozalum,

The malice of the rabbi.

But she was swinging on her kang;

He missed her mouth and hit her bang.

He knew it by the feel of fang

In the fancy of Gafoozalum.

The four crowded the doorway and stood, gaping at the spectacle. Young Alex had reported correctly; there wasn’t a man present. Shima, Ind’dni and Burne didn’t dare enter; only Gretchen took a few steps into her apartment.

Suddenly Shima said, “Looking at all these women, something just occurred to me, Ind’dni.”

“Indeed? What is it?”

“Why doesn’t the Golem ever appear as a woman?” Shima asked.

“An interesting point, doctor,” Ind’dni said. They could barely hear each other over the uproar. “Perhaps our psychomancer can answer.”

“Possibly Jung’s construct of the ‘inward face’ of people,” Burne said. “The Golem might be generated by the animus, the masculine side of the female psyche; hence it always takes the form of a man. If it were generated by men, their anima or female side would produce a woman.”

While they were considering this, Gretchen shouted, “Will you look at the banquet these crazies have put together!”

There was indeed a royal banquet, fit for a Bee Queen. Trays and dishes and platters and tureens of food everywhere; Bee’s Wing Broth, Honey-baked Hams, Mussels in Oyster Sauce, Royal Jellied Eels, Lobster tails in thyme aspic, Pollen Fritters, Hive Tack, Protein Pudding, Honey Cakes, Sucrose Sherbets, and stockpots of honey Mead and Welsh Nectar. There were trays of every sweet-scented squeam on the market. There were garlands of green, danced and trampled into the floors, emitting pungent scents of tansy, lovage, rosemary, sage, and sweet basil.

HAIL! HAIL! THE GUFF’S ALL HERE! Hey, BB! Hi, BB! Regina’s dead. You know? Every person knows. My former mizperson was famous. This is her wake, BB. The queen is dead. Long live Nellie the Second Regina. Zolstu azoy laiben! It’s Yenta the First. Who says? Bimbo, the Bold says with her Hammer of Thor. I’ve decided WE shall be:

Haaaaaa! And how would Sarah like five in the pie-slot from Ood, the Terrible? We are not amused. Could I please be Pie, the First? Mummy would want me to call myself Victoria R, the Clean Queen. There’s regal drag on the costume rack; how about Norah R, the Darlin’ Queen? Vote like for The Pessaries, the Combo Queen. But how can R stand for queen? I thought it meant king like in R.F.D. Makes sense to her. It’s Latin, dummy. All hail Mary, the Dumbo Queen! HICK! HIKE! HOKE! THE QUEEN’S ALL HERE!

“My God, Subadar, this is a disaster! I thought Regina’s death would solve everything; end the colony, end the Golem, end the crisis in the Guff, and now look at this lunatic scene. What, in heaven’s name, are these insane women doing?”

“That is not the crucial question, madame. We understand what they’re doing.”

“I don’t. What are they doing?”

“Mr. Burne,” Ind’dni turned to the psychomancer. “You are the expert in somatic language. Tell Miz Nunn.”

“They’re selecting a new queen to lead their commune. Agreed, Subadar?”

“Agreed, Mr. Burne. But the crucial question is, what is the Golem Hundred-Hander doing through all this?”

“But Subadar,” Gretchen argued, “didn’t we agree that it couldn’t survive without the bee-ladies’ collective to generate it?”

“We did, but it must exist still. It is too strong and protean merely to cease, punkt! And it will most probably be searching for another source to give it soul and survival.”

“Jesu!” Shima exclaimed. “Then it might be in this mob right now, looking around.”

“Not likely, doctor,” Ind’dni said. “Please to listen to the chorus of the assembled swarm…”

Mother, may I go out to yance?

Yes, my darling daughter.

Shake your hance in a grabby prance,

But don’t go near his mortar.

“Do you hear a man’s voice, doctor? No. It is patent that there are only women here, and Golem¹⁰⁰ never manifests as a woman.”

Shima nodded. “R. Then what will this shipwrecked-to-hell creature be doing?”

“It will be swimming desperately,” Burne put in. “Agreed, Subadar?”

“Emphatically agreed, Mr. Burne. I believe this plastic, soulless eidolon will be ranging up and down the spectrum of people, perceptions, terrors, compulsions; through colors, sounds, waves, particles; desperately searching for another generator, another collective soul-home to ensure its survival. We must pray that it does not.”

“No, Subadar!” Gretchen’s voice verged on hysteria.

“No, madame? You are agnostic?”

“Nothing of the sort. Blaise, is that bathysphere of Dr. Leuz still equipped with your neurosensory contacts?”

“Yes. Why? Thinking of taking another deep dive to cool the heat?”

“No, I want to use it on dry land.”

“Gretch! Will you make sense!”

“I can’t. I’m possessed.”

“What possesses you, Miz Nunn?”

“Projection,” Burne said. “The fever in these women is rubbing off on Miz Nunn. Pulse and respiration rapid. Muscle tone spasmodic.”

“And I’m beset with mad ideas,” Gretchen added.

“Can you specify, madame?”

“One of them is that I can’t let go of the Golem monster with just a prayer. I—I want to—I must be in on the kill.”

“Hold it, Ind’dni,” Shima said. “I think I know where she’s headed.” To Gretchen, “You want another Pm trip into the Phasmaworld to observe, using the bathysphere setup to report. Yes?”

“Yes, but not me. Someone better equipped. You can interface the observer with your neural contacts, Blaise, and we’ll get realtime observations.”

“It’s an idea, Gretch…” Shima took fire. “By God, it’s a damned good idea. Then we’ll know for sure.”

“But who better equipped than yourself, madame?” Ind’dni asked. “You are uniquely suited, and have had the experience before.”

“May I translate what I read in my distinguished colleague, Subadar?” Burne asked.

“By all means.”

“She wants an observer too subtle, too sophisticated, too firmly anchored in deep emotional resources to be overpowered as she was by the disorientation of the Phasmaworld. Strong enough to resist. Controlled enough to report dispassionately. Mystic enough to understand the transcendental.”

Gretchen stared. “My soma said all that to you?”

“Not quite, Miz Nunn. You made many things clear when we were chatting on the way to this Oasis.”

“But great Dyaus!” Ind’dni exclaimed. “How will we find such a paragon? Does he exist?”

“He does, Subadar.”

“Where?”

Burne turned to Gretchen. “Tell him, please.”

“I will,” she said. She looked Ind’dni full in the face. “In you.”