She stiffened. "A guess worthy of the mongoose or coyote people!" she said.
"Come on. You led me to it."
I felt her tongue in my ear. Her hands stroked my belly.
"True. Yet there were distractions."
"I'm not, am I?"
"What?"
"A mongoose or a coyote."
"We have examined your tissues, remember? You're definitely standard human."
"That's a relief."
"Or a misfortune. They're both worthy species. You could do worse."
"Would you still love me?" I asked, as she slipped loose and slithered over my face.
"Unlike some, I believe in interspecies romance," she said. "I'm sure you could have won my heart as a coyote. I don't know about a mongoose, though."
"There could be great literature in it. Two noble Houses—Snake and Mongoose—mortal enemies, of course. Enter a lovely snake maiden and a dashing mongoose youth—"
"Glory and Alf, the star-crossed!" she cried. "I can see the despairing scene in the tomb where you force my mouth open to break the skin of your lips with my fangs in a kiss that lingers and lingers till the audience realizes you are lying dead beside me. Awakening just a few minutes too late, I raise my hand to my mouth in horror, then bite it—"
"You really have fangs, and poison?"
Her laugh was hissed. "Alf! O pale! Allow a girl some secrets, and fear her if you must!"
Her teeth grazed my ear and I winced.
"I've always been decent to you, haven't I?"
"So far," she said.
"I hope you haven't just been sent to keep an eye on me."
"It's become more than that," she said. "Yes, it troubled me, but what the hell! I do it anyway! Kiss me, human!"
Later, my glass shattered on the bedside table as she shrieked in UHF.
Sitting, propped up in bed by pillows, sipping cappuccino— again, with no idea of the passage of time—I said, "You made some sign and said 'great ancestor' to my reference to the Ouroboros Serpent. Why?"
"All the species have their totems, their gods or goddesses," she said. "Adam's is the Egyptian cat goddess Bast. We all claim at least spiritual descent from such sources. It goes back to the founding of the species, I gather, to give a new people a sense of continuity with ancient things. At least, that's what is said. It was so long ago, tales get so twisted."
"It must have taken thousands of years to develop the species and see their numbers reach the point where they could develop a culture."
"Oh, it did. Though the cultures developed quickly when we each were given our own worlds. Some of us mingle with others, of course, on their worlds, as they with us. But having home worlds helped."
"All that time, though—plus your long lifespans—and you refer to it as an ancient past. It must be from considerably far beyond the twenty-fifth century that you come."
"Oh, it is. It is."
"I'd figured that. This shop—complete with its wish-effect—bespeaks a technology so advanced that it's close to magic for me. But what was the purpose of enhancing the various species involved in the program your kind came out of?"
"At first, we were useful in dealing with special problems on newly discovered worlds. Then many other unique talents were manifest, and we became welcome citizens."
"But probably a big social problem first."
"True. But we achieved equal rights eventually, and grant of the home worlds. Later, we were courted by our old masters to join the Galactic Union as Terran-bloc worlds."
"I'll bet. How many Terran species are there?"
"Twenty-eight," she said. "Adam's and mine were two of the earliest."
"A Galactic Union makes it sound like an extremely distant future."
"Past," she said. "It is a part of our past."
"How did the original human race fare?"
"You were a distinct minority in the union at the time of our creation. Our joining the bloc helped you greatly."
"And later, in your own day, the time from which you departed?"
"Alf, by then it has grown difficult to explain what human is, the body and mind can be shifted about so many ways. If you mean people who could mix easily with people of this day, they are a minority—or several interesting minorities."
"I find this somewhat depressing. Was the Earth still around in your day?"
"I don't like discussing this with so many out-of-contexts. But yes, it was around, but in different form. It had been depleted and its components employed for terraforming elsewhere. On the other hand, it was later reconstructed by groups of political nostalgics. More than once. On still another hand, I see now that they got it wrong in many ways. Perhaps we will take you to see some version one day. Perhaps you already have."
"Cut the insinuations, Glory!"
"Could your present culture provide you with seven clones? Or get them back through time for you?"
I sipped my cappuccino.
"I hadn't really thought about it that way," I said. "I guess I was just fixed on the image of all those Alfs."
"A future connection would seem necessary. The question is, which future?"
"Any candidates?"
"None that I care to discuss."
"Any idea how we're going to resolve this thing?" I finally asked.
"When Adam gets a little free time he'll deal with it."
"How did you come to be his nursemaid?"
She smiled.
"I was the logical choice," she said, "for I was the closest my species came to producing the Kaleideion."
"Oh. Of course. Makes eminent good sense. You and Adam are from different points in time, aren't you?" I asked.
She gave the longest hiss I had ever heard her utter and sat bolt upright. Her eyes flashed and her hair swam about her head as if with a will of its own. She seemed to radiate— something like heat, but without temperature; there was a pressure there, as of the emanation of force. She seemed much larger, filling, dominating the room. When she spoke, her voice possessed the same persona quality I had heard Adam use in much smaller doses. The skins of her former selves stirred and rattled upon the walls. Her fangs were suddenly apparent. Her tongue darted, and I drew back, spilling my coffee. When she spoke, it was even worse:
"How is it that you know this yet deny other knowledge of the affair?"
"Easy, lady!" I cried. "Take it easy! It was just a journalist's mind at work. If it's so damned hard to breed a Kaleideion that the effort had been going on for ages, it seems statistically unlikely that two of you should come along at the same time."
"Of course," she said, seeming to shrink as I watched, "of course," and she stroked my cheek and made the worst . of the moment vanish. I reached out and returned the compliment.
"Ssss," I said.
"Sss," she corrected, "but your accent's getting better."
"Sss," I repeated, and I slithered toward her, after my fashion. Nor was she hard to come by.
Somewhere between a pair of sleeps I found myself in the kitchen with Glory, filling a picnic basket.
"A shady grove near a stream, a stone bench," I said.
"Right you are," she replied.
"Without throwing the Switch?"
"Again, yes," she answered, adding napkins and a matching tablecloth. "Ready now."
I raised the basket.
"Lead on," I said.
I followed as she turned away and walked down the small hallway off the kitchen's rear.
"I don't recall there being an arboretum up this way," I said, thinking back to the post-Urtch search.
She laughed softly and halted before an unfamiliar door. When she opened the door and entered, it proved to be the entrance to a small area holding a few odds and ends of equipment. Closing the door behind us, she turned and took a step. Immediately, the room vanished, to be replaced by a rolling green field dotted with wildflowers, leading off toward a distant hilly area. Ahead and to the left, a line of trees bordered what must be a stream. Birds passed among them, and after a brief walk I heard a faint gurgling sound.