Its evil laugh was enough to shake some sense into the rack of meatless bones that slid its skeleton dance through the pulsating stage of P-23. Ms. A's dilated pupils and awestruck mouth with its dark-red lipstick caked on so thick pieces of it were coagulating with the nervous sweat she was all-too-programmed to excrete in situations like this, could only look up at Golam and say whatever cut-up lines her psyche was capable of transmitting: "Tomorrow, if there is such a thing, will blow across my eyelids with a superficial skin made of esratz desire. And if there's something even close to a feeling of love that makes it way into my gut-reaction, then and only then will I spear you with my turquoise gaze."