The level of the ocean had risen fifteen feet. The runoff from the rain across the state of Florida made it
worse. Much of Miami was under water, the buildings poking out of the great new lake. The inhabitants
were crowding into the diminishing islands of high ground and into the upper stories of the sturdier
buildings. Still the rain washed down.
Orb shook her head. Most of the city's population might be alive now, but the continuing rise of water
doomed them. Whatever boats had been serviceable had already gone, and it would be impossible for
most of the people to swim what might turn out to be hundreds of miles to truly secure ground.
Jonah taxied to Lou-Mae's home section. It was under water; the people were gone. Rubble made islands
where buildings had collapsed, and garbage floated around them. Lou-Mae stared, her face
expressionless.
"They went to high ground," the drummer said quickly. "They had time; the water rose slowly."
"Yes..." she agreed, her shock easing.
"I can find them," Orb said. "Give me a description of a friend or relative, and I will orient."
Lou-Mae described her mother. Orb expanded, and when she intersected the woman, she coalesced to
that spot. It was in a large building being used as a refuge. People were crowded on the upper floors. A
number were injured; a makeshift infirmary section had been cordoned off for them.
Orb saw with horror that the same furry growth she had seen in France was appearing here. The walls
were covered with it, and the ceiling, and it was even on some of the clothing of the people. The heat
and humidity fostered it, and it was encroaching everywhere. The air itself seemed to taste of it.
Lou-Mae's mother was a massive woman, but she just about jumped off the floor when Orb materialized
before her. Orb was the only white person in the room.
"I am a friend of Lou-Mae's," Orb said. "She wants to join you here, to try to help you. The rest of her
family, her friends-are they all right?"
"Most-for now," the woman said grimly. "You got a way out of here?"
"Not for this number of people," Orb said. She wasn't sure that Jonah would admit any person who
wasn't part of the Sludge, and certainly not hundreds.
"Then tell Lou-Mae to stay clear, because she's better off where she is."
"She won't do that," Orb said. "She wants to be with you. I will have to bring her."
The woman nodded, understanding. Orb turned the page to Jonah. "I found her," she announced. "She's
all right, but she wishes you would stay clear."
"I know," Lou-Mae said. "I won't."
"She knows." Orb directed Jonah, and he swam to the building.
Lou-Mae had a tearful reunion with her mother, introduced the drummer, and caught up on the status of
other family members. Then she turned to Orb. "They're never going to get out of here. Go back to the
fish. Take the gamble. We'll ride it out with them."
Orb sighed. Lou-Mae knew the risk. But it was obvious that the risk of allowing the present situation to
continue was worse. She returned to Jonah.
Only Jezebel and the guitarist remained there. "I'm going to try it," Orb said. "That's all you can do,"
Jezebel said. "Maybe the guitar can help?" The guitarist fetched his instrument. "Just tell me what you
want."
"It's like the Song of the Morning or the Song of Day, but different," Orb said. "Start with that and
modify as seems right." He nodded.
Orb set herself, then sang. The Song of Chaos reached out beyond them, beyond Jonah, expanding in the
manner of her diffusion traveling, embracing the turbulent world. The chamber faded, and it was as if
they were in the rain, becoming part of it, part of the moving air and water. The song took hold of that
ambience and stirred it, intensifying it. Darkness came, and light, but the darkness was vast and strong,
while the light was limited and weak. Chaos was awakening to new power.
Orb felt a chill as she sang, not of the body. She was playing with a force she hardly understood. Her
first invocation of it had led the world to this watery horror; what would follow now?
She completed the song, the part of it she could. The rest of it would complete itself in its own fashion.
"The power of that thing!" Jezebel murmured. "I'm not even human, but I felt it. It would shake Hell
itself!"
"It is a gamble," Orb repeated. "I don't know whether I am doing right or wrong."
Outside, the rain was easing. Orb expanded and found that this was happening all around the globe. The
temperature had stopped rising, and the weather was slowly clearing.
She coalesced. "I think we have turned the corner," she said, with immense relief. Then she went to her
room and collapsed into sleep.
She woke somewhat refreshed. Jezebel fixed her breakfast. She didn't know what time of the day or
night it was, but breakfast seemed appropriate. Jonah was under the ground again, and everything was
quiet.
Belatedly, Orb considered that. "Why is Jonah down?" she asked.
"He generally has reason," Jezebel said. "I'd better look."
Orb turned the page to Miami. It was quiet, and the temperature had dropped a little. The water still
stood around the buildings, but the worst seemed to be over.
Still, she checked on Lou-Mae. She remained in the island building with her mother and the others.
They had food from the supplies of a restaurant that had been on the lower floor; the flooding and lack
of electric power would cause the food to spoil soon, so they were only cutting down on the waste.
The algae grew everywhere. Someone had evidently tried to scrub down a section of the wall, but
already the stuff was growing back. The scent of it in the air was stronger; it was impossible to inhale
without breathing it.
Lou-Mae and her mother were all right, but the drummer lay under a blanket. "He has a fever," Lou-Mae
explained worriedly. "Several others have it. One of us is a doctor, but he says it's impossible to tell
what it is yet; it doesn't act like the flu."
"I could take him back aboard Jonah," Orb said.
"No, he says he wants to stay here with me. I'll take care of him."
"Maybe I can sing him well," Orb said.
"Oh, has your power returned?" Lou-Mae inquired, brightening.
"I don't know." Orb went to the drummer, took his burning hand, and sang the Song of the Morning. The
effect of night came, and then dawn, amazing the others in the room, but Orb knew that there was no
healing effect. That aspect of her power remained pre-empted by the Song of Chaos.
"He'll be all right," Lou-Mae said, putting a brave face on it.
"I'll keep in touch," Orb said. Her heart was heavy, but there was nothing more she could do.
Then she thought of something. Quickly she removed the necklace she wore, with the moonstone amulet
the Magician had given her as a child. As an Incarnation, she no longer needed it. She turned back to
Lou-Mae. "Please wear this," she said, putting the chain over Lou-Mae's head.
"What is it. Orb?"
"A charm. It will protect you from harm."
"But-"
"Please, I want you to have it. Never take it off. Promise."
Lou-Mae hugged her. "I promise, Orb!"
Back aboard Jonah, she decided to check quickly on the others. She turned pages, verifying that the calm
extended to all the world. Tinka's wagon was safely ensconced on a high slope, the mermaid had found
herself a grotto near the new shore, and the fields of Betsy's farm were draining. Much damage had been
done everywhere, and many lives had been lost, but the carnage had stopped.
Could it really be so easy? Orb distrusted this, so she turned the page to Purgatory. This time she went to
the castle of War, having a certain female curiosity about aspects of her former lover's situation.
She was met at the front gate by a hooded figure. "Mym?" she inquired hesitantly.
The figure drew back its hood. Its head was a writhing mass of maggots.
Orb screamed.
"Thank you," the figure said. "What is your business?"
Orb realized that this was not Mym. "I-I wish to see Mars."
"And who are you?" The maggots writhed as it spoke, forming a mouth and shaping the words.
"I-just say a friend." She felt uneasy about revealing her nature or her business to this thing.
The gruesome figure turned about and moved into the castle. Orb was satisfied to wait outside. What
kind of company was Mym keeping, these days?
Soon a lovely young woman appeared. That was literal; she simply manifested where there had been no
one before.
"Lilith," Orb said, recognizing her.
The demoness was taken aback. "Have we met before?"
"Not directly. You are Mym's demon mistress."
"True. But who are you?"
"His former lover," Orb said with a certain satisfaction.
"You are not Rapture of Malachite."
"Before that."
Lilith made the connection. "The one who had his baby! I should have recognized you; I have emulated
you in the past!"
"Emulated me?"
"Assumed your likeness." The demoness abruptly shifted to a mirror like image of Orb. "Mym never
stopped loving you, you know, so sometimes I-never mind. I simply wasn't expecting you here. Come
in; I know he will want to see you."
Orb complied. "The figure who-with the worms-?"
"Oh, that's Pestilence, one of the handmaidens of War, as it were; a lesser Incarnation. He's on duty now,
so he answered the door. It takes a while to appreciate him."
"He's-on duty?" Orb was starting to make a connection of her own.
"Supervising the breeding of the vermin and diseases and fungi, now that conditions for them are ideal."
"The mold-the algae-"
"That, too," the demoness agreed. "Harmless, but the microscopic fungi aren't. There'll be a plague like
none seen before, as those new spores infest the human systems. Pest is very proud of his effort."
The drummer was running a fever, as were a number of others. Now Orb knew that the change in the
weather had come too late; the worst damage was invisible. Spores in their trillions, infiltrating every
part of the environment, taking hold in animals and people, generating illness that would be tough to
fight off even with modern medication, and hellish in the present situation.
Another woman arrived. "Ligeia," Orb said. "Or should I say Princess?"
"I'll dispense with your title, Gaea, if you will dispense with mine," Ligeia said. "I can see why Mym
loves you."
"That's past," Orb said, embarrassed. "I came only to talk with him."
"Of course. Incarnations consult with each other frequently. I have sent a messenger; Mym will be with
us shortly. Meanwhile, you must have tea with us."
"I-yes," Orb said, out of sorts. Ligeia was so poised and gracious!
They went to the patio in the rear garden. It was exactly like the one Orb had seen before.
"How is it that you know us?" Ligeia inquired as a servant took care of the details.
"I met you-in emulation," Orb said. "Satan-"
"How well we understand!" Ligeia said. "I was captive in Hell, and Lilith was a creature of Hell, before
Mym freed us. The deceptions of Satan are myriad and intricate. The emulations gave you false
information?"
"Mixed. Yet they were so like your reality and were so persuasive-it is as if I have been through this
scene before. I-" Orb paused, beset by the notion that this could be another vision. How could she tell
the difference between vision and reality, when the emulation was so accurate?
"And now you are not sure of us," Lilith finished.
"Would-would you object if I verified-?"
"Please do," Ligeia said. "We do understand, Orb."
Orb turned the page to Jonah, fetched her harp, and turned the page back to the castle. "A deceiver may
not touch my instrument," Orb explained. "It was a gift of the Mountain King. If you would..."
Ligeia smiled. She not only touched the harp, she set herself and played a chord on it. "You know the
harp?" Orb asked, amazed. "Not well. But as a mortal princess, I was expected to be able to make an
impression on a prince, and music is one way. This is a beautiful instrument." Lilith approached. "I am
crafted largely of deception," she said. "So this may not-" She reached out and touched the harp.
Nothing happened.
"You are not deceiving anyone now," Orb said. "I have practiced none since Mars saved me," Lilith
said, still touching the harp.
"What, not even when you emulated me that night?" Ligeia inquired with pretend malice.
"He wanted you, but you were indisposed," the demoness said. "So he asked me to-"
Ligeia laughed. "I knew it, Li! I was teasing you."
"But for your tolerance, I would not exist, Li," the demoness replied.
Orb shook her head. "This is as it was in the vision. Consort and mistress-friends! I think I would not
have understood this before I came to know Jezebel."
"You know Jezebel?" Lilith asked with interest. "The succubus?"
"She retired."
"That isn't possible!"
Ligeia put her hand on the demoness' arm. "You forget whom you address."
"My apology, Gaea," Lilith said, abashed. "Of course you, alone of all folk, could enable her to change!"
Ligeia intercepted whatever awkwardness was developing. "Orb, I'm sure Mym is about to arrive.
Would it be too much to ask you to sing for us, since you have your harp with you? I understand there is
not your match in all this realm."
"There is one," Orb said, a shadow crossing her soul.
"Who might that be?"
"Satan."
"Satan? I never realized-"
"It is true," Lilith said. "He seldom indulges, but I knew him before he assumed his office. As a mortal
he was the most moving male singer humanity has produced and knew it. I think that made him easier to
corrupt."
Orb and Ligeia both turned to the demoness. "You corrupted him-as a mortal?"
"On orders of his predecessor. It was an irony. Satan feared the potential for good inherent in this mortal
singer, so he sent me to foster evil in his heart. I succeeded too well. The mortal became corrupted and
displaced the one who had sent me. Thereafter I loved the new Satan-until he sent me to corrupt Mars.
Now I love Mars."
"Mars is easy to love," Ligeia said.
"Amen," Orb said.
"So glad to find you in such agreement," Mym said from the doorway, startling all three women.
Ligeia recovered first. "Orb was about to sing for us," she said. "Then she must talk with you."
"No."
Again all three were startled. Again, Ligeia recovered. "She came to consult as an Incarnation, Mym.
You can not deny her that."
"That, no," he said. "It is the song I may not hear."
"You used to like my singing," Orb remarked, perplexed.
"My love for you never died," he said seriously. "It was superseded, but it remains. I know the power of
your music. If I heard it again, I would desire you above this woman and this creature, and that would
prejudice our relationship. Talk with me; do not sing to me."
"I think he is making sense," Lilith said to Ligeia. "She was his first love, and now she is more than she
was."
"We shall leave them to talk," Ligeia agreed.
"No need," Orb said quickly. "I wanted only to consult about my present situation. I invoked the Song of
Chaos, and when it threatened to drown the world, I invoked it again, hoping to cause it to pass more
swiftly. It seemed to end, and that worries me; I can not believe that Chaos can be abated simply by
reinvocation. Can Chaos cancel itself out?"
"I doubt it," Mym said. "But I may know whom to ask."
"Who?" Orb asked, hardly daring to believe that there was a ready source of the information she needed.
"The Purgatory computer. It knows everything; the only problem is getting it to respond relevantly."
"I have not had much experience with computers," Orb said doubtfully.
"It seems to be a demonic device. Lilith should be able to make it behave."
"I can try," the demoness agreed.
"I would take you myself, but it is too difficult to be close to you for long," Mym said. "What is past
must remain past."
"Yes," Orb said, flattered. She had embraced the pseudo-Mym of the vision, but this reality left her with
a better self-image.
"This way," Lilith said. "We can walk; it is close by."
Orb remembered something. "You emulated me-for him?"
"He is not joking about the effect you have on him," the demoness said. "He would never have left you
if he had been given any choice. I emulate any woman he asks me to, but when I did you, he just looked
at me with such longing and sadness that even I, who have no true human emotions, was discomfited.
He did not touch me then, afraid of what passion might resurge in him that could never be truly
gratified."
"Thank you for telling me," Orb said.
They entered an impressive building and made their way to the computer room. Lilith activated the
machine.
BY WHAT AUTHORITY DO YOU TOY WITH ME, REFUGEE FROM HELL? the screen printed.
"I'm helping an Incarnation," Lilith retorted with satisfaction. "The new Gaea."
AH, THE DAUGHTER OF FATE. WHAT A MESS YOU ARE MAKING OF THE MORTAL
REALM;
Orb found it strange, addressing a screen of print, but she had to respond to this. "I am coming to you for
help to alleviate that mess."
ONLY CHRONOS CAN ALLEVIATE IT, IF HE WILL.
So there was a way to stop this! "Why wouldn't he?"
HE HAS A PERSONAL REASON.
"What is that?"
A MACHINE DOES NOT PROPERLY COMPREHEND HUMAN MOTIVATIONS.
"Well, then, I'll just go and ask Chronos to help."
LOTS OF LUCK, the screen printed sardonically.
"Ligeia was right," Orb muttered. "It is a demonic device."
"I'm sure it would do well in Hell," Lilith said.
LOOK WHO'S TALKING. Then the machine clicked off.
"Now how do I locate Chronos?" Orb asked. "I presume he has a castle or something here in Purgatory."
"He does, but others don't go to it unless invited. It is best to put out a call for him and wait until he
answers. We can do that for you; I'm sure he will come to you in due course."
Orb sighed. "At least I know that someone can help. I thank you and Ligeia for your assistance."
"We remain in your debt," the demoness said. "You helped make Mym what he is, and he is our-" She
paused, evidently trying to say a word.
"Salvation?"
Lilith nodded. "Sometimes I almost forget my origin. There are words I can not utter."
"I understand. Another demoness is my friend; perhaps you will be, too."
"I can see why Mym loves you."
Orb gave her a hug, and the demoness clung to her for a moment as a lost child might. Then Orb turned
the page back to Nature's Abode.
This time she decided to explore it more thoroughly. She still felt most at home in Jonah, but knew that
she would have to get used to her Purgatory residence. Unfortunately the tree-shape of it reminded her
of the hamadryad's tree in the swamp in Ireland, and that grieved her. Abruptly she turned another page,
to Jonah.
He was back underground. "The weather is picking up again," Jezebel said.
Orb went to Miami. The weather was worsening; there was no rain, and the water level had receded
somewhat; the ambient temperature was down, but gale-force winds were battering the buildings. The
water had eroded the foundations of a number of buildings, and more rubble was in evidence. The city
was still in serious trouble.
She checked Lou-Mae. The room was a disaster area. Most of the occupants, including both the
drummer and Lou-Mae's mother, were down with the fever, sprawled across the floor. Lou-Mae herself
was unaffected and was working valiantly to attend to those who could not help themselves. Orb
suspected that it was not natural immunity, but the Magician's amulet that was protecting her from the
ravages of the pestilence.
There was an odor. The building's sanitary facilities had evidently failed with the loss of power, and this
surely fostered the pestilence. But until the water receded and left the building dry, there was nowhere
for the people to go. Those who had sought the high ground had retreated to whatever buildings were
there, in the face of the rising winds.
There seemed to be nothing she could do. She knew that Lou-Mae would not desert her mother or the
others and she could not transport the group of them to another place. She could only hope that the
winds died down before the waves became too violent.
She turned a page to France. Here, too, the winds were increasing and the temperature was dropping.
Tinka and her husband seemed to be all right.
The level of the sea around India was dropping. This eased the plight of those whose land had been
inundated, but the mermaid's grotto was being uncovered. The mermaid would soon be in trouble if she
didn't move to deeper water before being isolated.
The storms were developing all around the world, battering the limited shelters of the people suffering
from the plague. Orb understood now that the Chaos had not ended; it had only been changing course.
Now the new course was progressing, and the storms might be the result of that change. Air that had
been heating was now cooling, and ice that had been melting was reforming. The polar caps, almost
depleted, were growing again. The winds were the result of the developing inversions of temperature, as
air masses tried to equalize and could not.
The seacoast cities of the world were getting battered. Buildings that had withstood the rising waters
now were collapsing as the wind drove the waves across with new force.
Orb turned a page back to Miami. The city was like a battle zone. Monstrous waves crashed across, even
though the water level was down. The sea was doing more damage to the foundations now than before,
because the constant surging and retreating of the waves tore at the ground in ways that the standing
water had not. Several fragments of concrete were being thrown into the melee, gouging out more of
itself.
She went to the building where Lou-Mae and her mother and the drummer were. The situation was
worse; a number of the patients were dead. Efforts to help the sick had ceased; too few well people
remained. In fact, the only one completely free of the malady was Lou-Mae. She was holding the
drummer, trying to comfort him, but Orb could see that he had lapsed into unconsciousness or worse.
His skin was discolored, his face was swollen so badly that he could not have opened his eyes, and there
was blood on his shirt where he had been coughing. The others were no better off.
Meanwhile, the wind buffeted the building. Every time a wave struck, the room shook. There were
sounds of things falling, and Orb experienced the sickening feeling of settling. This building was about
to go!
"Lou-Mae, you have to get out of here!" Orb exclaimed.
"I can't! Mama's dead, and Danny-Boy's dying! I can't leave them!"
"But you can't help them! The plague-"
Lou-Mae just held the drummer, as if she could infuse health back into him. Orb could make no further
impression on her.
A larger wave crashed outside-and the building went. It shuddered, and the floor tilted. The steel
supports groaned as they twisted out of place; the ceiling tore from its moorings and sagged down.
Things fell down from the story above things like bodies.
The bodies on this floor started sliding, the drummer with them. Lou-Mae tried to hold him, but only
started sliding down herself. The wall buckled and a panel sprang loose; suddenly there was nothing
between the interior and the drop-off to the raging ocean several stories below.
Orb tried to hold the woman, tried to turn the page, but found herself alone; she still could not take
anyone with her. She turned back, rejoining Lou-Mae. "Jonah!" she cried. "Here to me!" Then she hung
on to Lou-Mae as they all slid down the increasing slope. The bodies were funneling in toward the open
panel, jamming against each other; this slowed progress, but not enough.
Then the head of the big fish appeared, poking through the building. Orb hauled Lou-Mae up physically-
she could still do that!-and dragged her into the mouth. When the woman was safely on inside, Orb tried
to go back for the drummer, but it was too late; the upper stories were collapsing, and everything was
going down in stages.
"Danny-Boy!" Lou-Mae cried, trying to launch herself back out, but Jonah had closed his mouth. She
clawed at the flesh, screaming, but could not get through.
Meanwhile the building was settling into rubble. Orb watched it through the transparent scales. Another
wave crashed through, accelerating the process. Even had the occupants been well, few could have
survived this. The drummer was gone.
Jezebel appeared. "Take Lou-Mae to her chamber and try to get her to sleep," Orb said. "She-the others
are dead." She sounded cold to herself, but it was horror inside.
The succubus put her arm around Lou-Mae. "I wish I could feel what you feel," she said.
"You wouldn't like it," Orb replied, and turned the page to Betsy's farm.
Her worst fear was realized. The storms were raging here, too. Something very like a hurricane was
blasting across the plain, lifting the drying soil and hurling it in clouds against anything that offered. The
day was dusky because of it. Orb had to brace herself against the fierce wind and squint to keep out the
particles of grit.
Betsy's farm was taking a beating. Whatever remained of the crop after the flood was now being swept
away by the wind. The house was under siege, as the wind tore at its edges. The gusts were so strong
that Orb found herself blown along. She wasn't hurt, as her office made her invulnerable to physical
harm, but any other person would have been at risk.
She made her way awkwardly to the house and knocked on the door. Such was the noise of the storm
that she could hardly hear the knock herself; she was sure the occupants couldn't hear it. So she
expanded until she was diffuse enough to pass through the wall, then coalesced inside.
No one was there. Surprised, then alarmed, Orb looked around. Where could they have gone? Surely
they hadn't been caught outside by surprise!
Then she realized that farms on the plains were accustomed to handling storms. There should be a safe
place to hide.
Betsy and the organist and her family were there, waiting out the storm in a small cellar designed for this
purpose. There was still water standing on its floor, but this was a small penalty for the security it
provided. They seemed to have escaped the plague; this region had not been as good for the
multiplication of the spores.
"I don't know how bad it's going to get," Orb said, "But I'm afraid it will be very bad."
"We'll ride it out," Betsy said bravely. "How are the others doing?"
This was the question Orb had dreaded, but she had to answer it. "Miami-is gone. The waves-"
Both Betsy and the organist were stricken. "Lou-Mae-" Betsy whispered.
"I got her back to Jonah. But the others-"
"Oh, damn," the organist muttered, knowing his friend was dead.
The wind intensified, howling past with frightening force. It seemed to be trying to lift the house off its
foundation.
"You had better get clear," Betsy said to Orb. "Thanks for stopping by." It was evident that she had no
intention of leaving, though she knew there was a place for her and the organist in Jonah. This was the
family farm; there might have been a time when Betsy wanted to leave it, but now she would stay here.
Orb turned the page to France. Here the situation was worse; trees were down, and the wind had blown
the wagon away. Tinka and her husband and baby were huddled against a firm face of rock, covered by
a blanket. The force of the wind was diminished here; the bulk of the mountain intercepted it.
Orb decided to leave them alone; they were as well off as anyone. She went on to India.
Here the wind had hastened the outflow of water, and the land all around the mermaid's grotto was dry.
Evidently it had happened too swiftly for the mermaid to escape; she was stranded. At first Orb feared
she was dead, but she was only avoiding the fierce wind by lying flat.
"I will help you reach a better place," Orb screamed over the wind. "The sea-"
"The sea is too turbulent above," the mermaid screamed back. "And too cold below. I need a pool!"
"I'll find a pool!" Orb agreed. She expanded, searching for one reasonably close by.
She found it: a deep one used by a wealthy estate, now deserted. The buildings of the estate were
battered, but the pool had suffered only the accumulation of debris. Orb fished out what she could, then
turned the page back to the mermaid.
"I will carry you there," she cried. She got her arms around the mermaid's body and heaved her up. She
staggered toward the estate.
What had taken only a moment by magic means was a wearing trek with a physical burden while being
buffeted by the wind. Orb had to put the mermaid down and rest frequently, and it required over an hour
to traverse the distance. When they finally got there, Orb was so fatigued she fell into the pool herself.
Now the roles were reversed, as the mermaid caught her and bore her to the edge, keeping her head
above water.
"Oh, it's good to get back!" the mermaid exclaimed. "Let me fill my gills!" She dived under, expelling
the air from her lungs, so that her gills could function.
Orb, satisfied that she was all right, foraged in the main building of the estate for some food, which she
brought to the pool. The mermaid grabbed it eagerly. "I'll check on you every so often," Orb promised,
and turned the page back to Jonah.
"Maybe you should rest," Jezebel said. "It's too bad that your meeting with Chronos didn't work out
better; you should save your strength for what may come."
"Chronos? I haven't met with Chronos yet," Orb said.
"But you said-"
Orb glanced at her sharply. "Has there been another vision, a dream-sequence?"
"Demons don't dream," Jezebel said. "I remember clearly what you said just half an hour ago-"
"I have just spent at least an hour helping a mermaid reach a pool. I'm bedraggled and tired now, and am
quite sure I haven't spoken to you about Chronos recently."
The demoness didn't answer.
"It's getting worse," the guitarist said. "We can feel the rumbling, even through the rock."
"The winds were gale force and rising in India," Orb said. "But I'm afraid to sing the Song of Chaos
again. How is Lou-Mae?"
"Sleeping," Jezebel said. "I think Jonah is helping. But you know she's not going to be happy when she
wakes."
"If only I hadn't started this!" Orb lamented.
"I think Satan started it. He led you on, knowing how mad you'd be when he told you the truth. He's
collecting souls by the millions now."
"Damn Satan!" Orb swore, hating the logic of the plot.
"They say he works over each new Incarnation," Jezebel continued. "He taught you that evil Song, didn't
he? He saw you coming, and really-"
Orb, unable to listen, turned the page to Ireland-and regretted it. The water had receded, but the swamp
was a tangled mass of roots and mud, with few trees standing. The hamadryad's water oak was gone.
Orb stood there in the savage wind and cried. She wished passionately that she could undo the damage
she had done, but knew she could not. She had to carry through, but knew that she had already failed so
grossly as the Incarnation of Nature that she would have to resign the office the moment things
stabilized. She couldn't resign now, because this disaster was not the responsibility of her successor,
assuming any successor existed; Orb had to face it herself.
After a time she turned the page to Betsy's farm.
And blinked. The house was gone.
The wind was so savage here that it was impossible to see more than a hundred feet, but there was no
question: the house had been blown away. Orb expanded, questing for the cellar, and found it.
It was empty. In fact, it was simply a gouged-out hole, much larger than the original cellar. It was
evident that the storm had spawned a tornado and torn the very stones and timbers out of the ground and
scattered them across the landscape. Betsy and the organist and Betsy's family were gone.
Orb gazed around the horizon. A tornado? By the sound, there was another coming. She expanded and
confirmed it; three of them tearing across the plain, spewing out sand and debris, their terrible tails
whipping back and forth as if searching for anything not yet destroyed. Farther out were two more,
orbiting each other. Indeed, they were everywhere, growing like monstrous trees. Some were so twisted
that they seemed to be rolling like elongated barrels along the ground, their funnels impinging on the
territory of neighboring tornadoes. Hell had arrived on earth, here.
She returned to Jonah. "The farm-gone," she said dully. The individual tragedies were losing their
impact; they were only samples of what the whole world was suffering.
Jezebel didn't comment. What was there she could say?
Orb knew now that it was not going to stop. The flood had been replaced by the storm. If she sang again,
what worse could happen?
She fetched her harp and sang the Song of Chaos a third time. But this time she tried a variation,
intuitively; she modified it with the error-nullification theme. If straight repetitions didn't do it, maybe a
null repetition would.
Again she felt it taking hold. But even if it stopped all the trouble this instant, too many lives had been
sacrificed.
When the song was done, she moved to the surface, apprehensive about the result.
The wind was dying.
But did this mean an end to Chaos, or only the onset of another aspect of it?
Where was Chronos? He was the one who was supposed to be able to help! Why hadn't he contacted her
before this?
Orb turned the page to Purgatory, then sought Chronos' mansion. She would brace him directly!
A maid met her at the door. "The Incarnation isn't in," the woman said.
"I'll wait," Orb said, pushing past her. She was beyond the point of politeness.
"It isn't wise," the maid protested.
"Just send him a signal, or whatever. Tell him Gaea is here. I won't leave until I talk with him."
The maid spread her hands. "No one can reach Chronos when he's out. He isn't like other Incarnations."
Orb picked a comfortable couch in the front room and lay down as for sleep. The maid departed.
To her surprise. Orb did sleep. She woke abruptly when Chronos entered the room. He was a handsome
figure in a white cloak. "Ah, Gaea," he said. "In your lovely stage. Had I known you were coming, I
would have been here to greet you."
"I left a message," Orb said curtly. "Why didn't you answer?"
"What message?"
"Hours ago! They said it would reach you!"
Chronos nodded. "Ah, I understand. You are early in your tenure, and do not properly appreciate my
nature."
"The Purgatory computer says that you are the only one who can help me. The world is being
demolished by my error, and I have to stop the disaster!"
"Let me explain," Chronos said. "I exist backwards. The message you left remains in my future, your
past. Probably this visit of yours has nullified it, so I have no news of it in my past, your future."
"Backwards," Orb repeated. "Yes, of course. I didn't realize-"
"However I'm sure we shall be reconciled, because we have had a long and beneficial association."
"That can't be. I'm going to resign as soon as I can somehow stabilize the Chaos I invoked."
"Chaos?"
"If you live backwards, you have to know all about it, don't you?"
"Not necessarily. Your future, and therefore my past, is malleable. What you foresee occurring may
differ from my experience."
"But if you have lived through it-"
"I have lived through a single track of it-one of an infinite number available. I try to avoid interfering
with my own track, but sometimes it does change. This is of course an uneasy business for me, though I
am immune from paradox."
"Well, I have an uneasy business outside!" Orb retorted. "Are you going to help me or aren't you?"
"I would be inclined to help you, for the sake of your beauty and the long association we have had.
However-"
"For the sake of what?" Orb asked sharply.
Chronos smiled. "I suppose that was not an honest answer. But I do not believe it would be wise for you
to know either the source of my inclination or my reason for denying it."
"You would do something for an attractive woman that you would not for an unattractive one?" Orb
demanded. Her frustration and fatigue were telling, and she knew it, but she hardly cared.
"Well, men do," he said reasonably. "It depends on the relationship. But your case is special. You have
generally met me in your assumed guise of age and maturity; to encounter you now in your beauty is-"
"I suspect that if I understood what you were getting at, I wouldn't like it," Orb said. "So much for the
source of your inclination; what is your reason for denying it?"
"They are linked. Perhaps you had better simply accept my statement that I do not wish to interfere with
the present course of history."
"Even though life on Earth is being wiped out?"
"Well of course it didn't-won't come to that, exactly."
"Are you being deliberately perverse? I am not making much sense of this."
Chronos sighed. "I suppose I had better explain. But I must warn you that to prevent this explanation
from changing the very matter of which I speak, I shall have to erase this particular line after
experiencing it."
"Erase it?"
"I shall set the time back to this point, and our discussion will not have happened in your reality."
Orb realized that such was the power of this Incarnation, that he was not bluffing. "No! I forbid that! If
you have a legitimate rationale for your action or inaction, and it concerns me, I believe I have a right
not only to know it, but to remember it. I want you to tell me exactly what is on your mind, and why you
seem to be refusing to help me undo the damage I have done."
"But you see, Gaea, your knowledge would almost certainly change the matter that I relate! Therefore it
would become meaningless, and perhaps much worse."
Orb stifled a sharp retort. She reminded herself that her impetuous meddling with an aspect of the Llano
had gotten her into trouble more than once, this time quite seriously. There could be merit in his caution.
"Then tell me, and let me judge whether it is proper for me to remember. But you must promise to let me
decide."
"I suppose you do have that right," Chronos said unhappily. "But-would you mind changing to your
other form?"
"My other form?"
"The mature one. You-I prefer that you change."
"I hardly know what you're talking about. This is the form I have had since maturity; I know of no
other."
"Again, my vantage betrays me. In your future I have known you in the other guise. The reason for my
concern will be apparent when I have explained."
"Then you had better tell me what form you are asking me to assume and how I should do it."
"I really don't know how you do it. It is just one of the powers of your office, as it is for Fate."
"One moment," Orb said. She turned the page to Fate's Abode. The young oriental woman was there.
"Could I speak to my mother for a moment?" Orb asked.
"I'll wake her." There was a pause, then Niobe appeared.
"What is my other form, and how do I achieve it?" Orb asked.
"Why I don't know, dear; the prior Gaea had many forms, and I'm sure you will, too. I think you just-
choose it."
"But I have no idea how!"
"Perhaps if you imagine a progression in your appearance similar to mine," Niobe said. "In my youth I
looked like this." She changed to a young and startlingly beautiful woman.
"Oh, mother, I had almost forgotten!" Orb exclaimed. "You were such a creature!"
"But I didn't take care of myself," Niobe said, reverting to her middle-aged spread. "I suspect something
similar would have happened to you in time, if you had not assumed your office. If you will just imagine
it-"
Orb concentrated, trying to picture herself when she became her mother's age.
"Yes, that's it," Niobe said.
"You mean I changed?"
"Come to the mirror, dear." She led Orb to a full-length mirror.
Orb was astonished. She was now a solid, middle-aged woman, perhaps twice her normal mass, her hair
starting to gray. "Oh, ugh!" she exclaimed.
"No, it is very good," Niobe said. "You look very much the part of Mother Nature now." She
contemplated Orb critically. "Except for the green hair."
"My hair is not green!"
"Precisely. The Green Mother traditionally has a green tinge about her."
Orb concentrated. "Like this?" Now her hair showed greenish in the mirror.
"Yes, dear. That is very nice."
Orb realized that she must have chosen-in Chronos' futuristic past-this form for much of her official
activity. "I suppose it will have to do. Thank you, mother."
"Do be careful, dear."
"It's late for that!" Orb turned the page back to Chronos' domicile.
"Yes, much better," Chronos said. "You are your familiar self."
Orb was not completely pleased, but elected to pass over the matter. "Now tell me everything I need to
know."
"It began about fifteen years hence, in your framework," he said. "Perhaps a few more. I was-well, I met
a ghost."
"A ghost! There are millions of them being made right now!"
Chronos shrugged. "This ghost had an unusual proposition. He wanted me to impregnate his wife. This
was a thing he could not do himself, of course."
Orb realized that this was a highly unusual story. She resolved not to interrupt until it was complete.
"I met his wife and fell in love with her. I could not marry her, of course, but I lived with her like a
husband, and she bore my child, though it was legally the child of the ghost. Unfortunately, the baby had
malady and died, and she committed suicide because of her grief. She was the perfect woman and the
perfect mother and she felt she had no life without her baby."
How well Orb could understand that! If only she had been able to keep her own baby!
"That left my own life meaningless. With the ghost's help, I assumed the office of Chronos and have
held it until this time. As you can appreciate, I would not have come to this had I not met the woman,
and had she not died. I think I would give it all up, to live out my life with her, but I can not, and I
believe I am a competent officeholder and that my input is beneficial. This is the past that I feel I should
not change, the future that you will come to know."
"I am sorry for your tragedy, of course," Orb said. "But I do not see how it relates to me. Meanwhile, I
have a most pressing problem in my present, not my future."
"But your present affects your future, and therefore my past. The woman I loved, and will always love,
is alive today, as a child. Her name is Orlene."
It was as if cold water had been dashed on her. "Who?"
"Your daughter-who in her adulthood rather resembles you as you are now. That is why I find your
natural appearance so disconcerting."
Orb thought of her reaction to her encounters with Mym, both real and in emulation. "I understand. But-
my daughter?" This was such a surprising development that she was still assimilating it.
"As a woman of twenty. Old enough to know her mind. She had a magic talent, the ability to perceive
the best matches in people, as if the people glowed. I glowed, for her." He leaned over and put his face
in his hands. "Forgive me," he said, his voice muffled by his fingers. "It has been long since I have
spoken of her."
Orb gazed at him with a certain compassion. Her baby girl-as a woman this man had loved! Now at last
she knew Orlene's future!
And Orlene had died-would die prematurely, in tragedy. That was the second shock. Her death
precipitating this man's assumption of his present office. No wonder he was concerned about Orb's
reaction! If she acted to save Orlene, by diverting her from the ghost marriage, Chronos might never
become Chronos!
Her eye fell on the ring on Chronos' finger. The one that looked like the ring Mym had given Orb and
that she had given to her daughter. Orlene had given it to him, as a signal of her love for him!
Or was it another imitation? Beset by a sudden intense curiosity. Orb extended her hand to touch the
ring.
It came to life immediately, uncurling and sliding from Chronos' hand to hers. It coiled about her finger.
"Is it really you?" she asked.
The ring squeezed once.
Of course it could be lying-another ring of the type, pretending to be the one she had owned. But she
doubted it "What he says is true?"
Squeeze.
"You could not help my daughter?"
Squeeze.
Orb put her own face in her hands, sobbing silently. For a time she remained thus. When she recovered,
the ring was back on Chronos' finger. It was his, now, by the right of the chain of love.
She found Chronos looking at her. "Now you understand," he said. "I dare not change her future; therein
lies paradox."
"But she has no future, if the weather continues!" Orb protested. "She may already be dead!"
"That need not be final."
"Not final! What is more final than death?"
"Time."
"But if she dies, your paradox is already upon you! You must save her."
"No, I may not interfere with the natural order where it concerns my own past. That would risk a disaster
worse than we can know."
"But-but if you have experienced the future-how can this present holocaust be reconciled with that?"
"It can't."
"You are talking riddles! You can't meet and love a woman who was killed in her childhood!"
"There is a way through. That is what I must accept."
"You live backwards! You have already experienced it! What happens? How can this be undone?"
"There is no problem about the how. I can act at a later time-an earlier time, for you-and nullify this
particular path. The problem is the why. Only with the advice and consent of the other Incarnations will
I take such an action, for it affects us all."
"You don't know whether you did it? Will do it?"
"Because the action I will take affects my own past, I can not be sure what has happened in my past.
There is a region of uncertainty, where the lines of history diverge and tangle. Nothing is absolutely
fixed. In one of those lines the decision will be made, and it will guide what I will do in your past."
"You have no notion at all what is going to happen?"
"Only that the ultimate decision was yours. I acted as the Incarnations agreed, after you decided. I
believe it was the correct decision."
"So I can save the world?"
"So it seems."
Orb realized that this was as much of an answer as she was going to receive. "If I can save it, I will save
it," she declared. "No matter what."
"I am not sure of that," he replied.
"Not sure-!" But she decided not to react further in his presence. She turned the page back to Jonah.
Jezebel was there. "Who are you?" she asked, startled.
"What do you mean, who am I?" Orb said. Then she realized that she was still in her new, mature form.
Hastily she willed herself back to normal.
"You have learned a new trick," Jezebel remarked.
"Yes, it seems I have."
"You look tired. Let me fix you something to eat, and you can rest."
"I don't know whether I'm tired or not, now," Orb said. "After that meeting with Chronos, my mind is
spinning!"
"Chronos is going to help?"
"He won't commit himself! He says that I will be the one to decide. But-oh, it's all so frustrating!"
"Well, eat," Jezebel said, setting some toast before her.
Orb looked at the watch on the wrist of the demoness. Surprised, she looked at her own. "I think your
watch has stopped," she said. "It's two hours behind mine."
"Oh?" Jezebel compared the two, then went for a desk clock. The clock agreed with Jezebel's watch. "I
think yours has gained."
"Gained? How could it?"
Jezebel shrugged. "You have been traveling all around the world. Perhaps it got jogged."
"I suppose," Orb agreed. She reset her watch.
She discovered that she had gulped down her toast in short order. "I can't sit here while that's out there,"
she muttered, and turned the page to Fate's Abode.
The oriental woman was there, as before. "May I talk to my mother again?" Orb asked.
"Again?"
"Yes, she helped me an hour ago."
Niobe appeared. "An hour ago? No."
"What do you mean, no? You showed me how to assume a mature aspect." Orb shifted into it, then
back.
Niobe considered. "You were visiting with Chronos?"
"You know I was, Mother! And what he told me-my daughter, your granddaughter-"
"Let me tell you something about Chronos, dear. His mansion reflects his lifestyle. Anyone who enters it
lives backwards. I have experienced the effect many times. A visitor emerges earlier than she enters. On
occasion I have even met myself arriving. How long were you there?"
"How long-" Orb repeated, realizing. "You mean-an hour earlier than-?"
"You are now in your own past, as it were, by that amount. Don't worry, it clears automatically after you
catch up. It is like a string that loops back on itself; it may not reach as far, but it's all there."
"Jezebel!" Orb exclaimed. "She said I'd talked with Chronos-before I did! Only I was in my time, and-
oh, it's all confused!"
"These things happen," Niobe said. "I suggest you go off by yourself until it clears, then proceed
normally. I was about to take a nap; Clotho will alert me when you arrive, in your past. But after this-"
"I'll be more careful with Chronos!" Orb finished.
"Yes. I'm surprised his staff didn't warn you."
"I think they tried to, but I-you know how I am."
Niobe kissed her. "Of course, dear. I will not speak of this, when you arrive again. You understand."
"So as not to confuse me further," Orb said, already confused enough.
"Yes. We all have to make accommodations, when dealing with Chronos."
Orb turned the page to the isle where she had talked with Natasha. She sat on the sand, trying to make
sense of it all. Intellectually, now, she understood, but emotionally she remained confused. She had in
effect traveled backwards in time, without realizing it! She could appreciate why Chronos was uncertain
on some details; she had done it only once, and her confusion was great.
What was she to do? She had brought on this disaster, so she was responsible. Chronos said that he
could help, but only if she decided what should be done, some time in her future. So perhaps what she
needed to do now was to decide her proper course. She did not want to make any more mistakes!
The wind blew past the isle, gouging sand from the beach and hurling it into the ocean. She saw
waterspouts all around. If she had not assumed physical immunity from harm with her office, she would
be in trouble aow! What had happened to the calm brought about by her third singing of the Song of
Chaos?
Then she realized that she was still in her own past! She had lost about one hour, going backwards in
Chronos' mansion instead of forward. That meant that her life was two hours behind where it should be-
the one she had retreated; and the one she had failed to go forward. She had labored to India to help the
mermaid, then returned to Jonah, then gone to see Chronos-and returned to Jonah an hour earlier, for
about half an hour of food and talk. Jezebel had remembered that, when Orb seemed to return half an
hour later. Now she was here at the isle, and the moment of her singing must be incipient.
She remained on the beach, watching. How fortunate it would be, if the Chaos finally abated!
She considered turning the page to Luna's mansion. How desperately she needed the company of
someone who truly understood! But surely Luna had problems of her own, dealing with the storm; better
to leave her alone. "Ah, Moth," she murmured. "When I really need you, I dare not go to you!"
The time came. The wind died. The waterspouts lost momentum, shriveled, and withdrew into their
clouds, which in turn thinned. The sun emerged, and the savage waves sank back into placidity. Her
song had really cooled things off!
Cooled? Now she was aware how much it was cooling. Despite the sun, the air was cold.
She watched, hesitant to travel again until she had a clearer notion what was developing. The air chilled
until she knew that the normal person would have had to don heavy clothing. The sky clouded again; ice
crystals were forming as the upper reaches chilled and the dew point was reached.
Now she traveled. She turned the page to India.
The mermaid's pool was cooling, too. Water was slower to yield its heat than the air, but it was obvious
that the mermaid would need some protection before the pool froze. Already she was huddled and
shivering. What could Orb do?
She considered starting a fire. But that would be of only limited value and dangerous; how could the
mermaid properly tend it? What would happen when the fuel gave out?
Yet what else offered? Orb couldn't carry her magically to a better place, and there was nowhere to go
physically.
Luna! Luna could help, by lending one of her many amulets. Just as Orb's own had protected Lou-Mae,
another could protect the mermaid. She turned the page to Luna's house, glad of the pretext to go there.
And stood in shock. The house was a mass of embers. It had been burned down! In fact, all this section
had been razed; smoke was still rising from neighboring blocks. What had happened?
But she knew what had happened. Crazed people had run amok and torched the neighborhood-just part
of the savagery unleashed as the natural order broke down.
Where was Luna? She couldn't have-no, of course not; Thanatos would have protected her. He had
probably taken her to his mansion in Purgatory for the duration. Luna was the key to so much of this;
she was the one Satan really wanted to eliminate. Thanatos knew that and guarded her constantly; there
was no need for Orb to be concerned.
But oh, the sheer waste of this! Any chance for anyone to take shelter from the cold in this
neighborhood was gone, carelessly destroyed. Luna's beautiful house, all her paintings, the two
handsome griffins...
Orb knew that if she allowed herself to dwell on this, she would dissolve into useless tears. All of it,
ultimately, was her own fault. But now she had to hold her emotion in check and do what she had come
to do.
She walked through the ashes, stirring them up with her feet. Where had those amulets been? Unable to
locate them, she expanded, orienting on what she wanted, and found it a warming stone. It was the only
one remaining; the others had either been removed or had lost their magic in the fire.
She coalesced and bent to fish it out of the rubble-a red, ruby like gem. She turned the page back to
India. "Take this stone," she told the mermaid. "It will keep you warm."
The mermaid reached a hand turning blue to take the amulet. As she touched it, its effect manifested.
"Oh, it's warm!"
"It's warm. As long as you hold it, you will be warm, too. This is the best I can do for you, until this
weather changes."
"It's enough," the mermaid said gratefully. She dived below the surface, expelling the air from her lungs
so that she could use her gills. Now she would survive, even if the surface froze over.
Orb turned the page to France. Here on the mountain the cold was worse; snow was falling, and Tinka
and her husband and baby had insufficient protection.
What could she do? She had given the only warming charm to the mermaid. Then she knew.
"Tinka," she said in Calo.
The blanket stirred. Tinka looked out, her breath fogging.
"Orb!"
Orb drew off her own cloak. "Take this. It will become whatever you need to wear, even a thick, heavy
blanket."
"I know," Tinka said. "I saw its magic many times. But you-what will you do without it?"
"I have no further need of it," Orb said, pushing the cloak forward. Doubtfully, Tinka took it. Then she
stared. "But you have nothing else on!"
Indeed, Orb was now standing naked in the snow. "As I said, I have no need. But you do. Take it, use it,
keep it."
The mound stirred. "What?" the man's muffled voice came.
Tinka snatched the blanket down over his head. "Nothing out there for you!" Then she focused on the
cloak, and it became an enormous furry poncho that settled over the existing blanket. That would keep
them all warm, both by its form and its magic!
The mound heaved. Tinka squeaked and disappeared below. Orb, satisfied, turned the page to Ireland.
She had forgotten that the water oak was gone. The site was covered with ice and snow. She expanded
and found that all of Ireland was slowly freezing. Indeed, all the world; the people who had survived the
storms were now squeezing into what structures remained, shoring them against the creeping cold,
burning wood salvaged from wreckage, and hoarding blankets. There was no electricity, no oil delivery;
the world had been reduced to a relatively primitive status.
It was better than the storm, Orb told herself. But she wasn't sure. How cold would it get?
She returned to Jonah. Jezebel eyed her somewhat warily. Orb laughed, experiencing a temporary relief
from the horror she felt. "Jez, I owe you an apology. You did hear me talk about Chronos. Let me
explain." She explained. "So you see, I wasn't being crazy or perverse. I'm under tension, but it hasn't
cracked my mind quite yet."
"I'm glad to hear it," the succubus said seriously. "Now why don't you put something on, before my man
wanders in here."
Oops! She remained naked, as she had gotten out of the habit of wearing anything but the magic cloak.
She had felt no discomfort in the snow, but Jezebel was right; she needed to be clothed. Hastily she
donned the blouse and skirt the succubus produced-one of Betsy's outfits.
Betsy, of course, had no further need of it. Now, abruptly, Orb burst into tears.
The demoness comforted her. She was good at it, perhaps because of her experience with the guitarist.
Soon Orb got a new grip on herself. "Thank you. I'm all right now."
"That's good. We're in enough trouble as it is."
"Oh? Has something else happened?"
"Nothing new. We're running short of food. I can get more, but the economic system has broken down,
so I can't arrange for proper payment of it."
"I see your point. I think I can get by without it, now, and so can you, but the guitarist and Lou-Mae-"
"Yes. And she isn't doing all that well."
"She has reason. Jez, it's my fault; I started this when I invoked magic I didn't understand. I have tried
twice to change it, but each time more people have suffered. Should I try it again?"
"When I went out last time, it looked pretty cold," the demoness said. "How bad-?"
"I don't know-but I fear it will just keep going."
"Then maybe it's better to gamble again."
"I suppose so. Chronos says I will make the final decision. Maybe one of my attempts will succeed,
though I don't see how it can help those who have already died."
"It seems best to gamble on the living."
"Yes." Orb fetched her harp and sang the Song of Chaos a fourth time. This time she didn't bother with
the null theme; it hadn't helped.
She knew the moment she finished that it was taking hold. Jonah shook. It wasn't the big fish; something
was happening outside. Orb expanded and found that the rock through which Jonah swam was heaving.
She expanded further, so as to survey the globe, and found that the effect was global. The whole world
was changing.
What was happening? There seemed to be enormous stresses developing in the crust of the Earth,
causing it to quiver in its effort to release tension. Those stresses were building rapidly; what would be
their result?
All too soon she saw it. Huge sections of the ground buckled under the pressure, the tectonic plates
being jammed together. Elsewhere new fissures opened up, and lava spewed out. Long-dormant
volcanoes came suddenly to life, and new ones erupted. The geology of the world was going crazy!
Orb quickly coalesced on India, on the mermaid's pool. She was already too late; there was nothing but a
fold of lava there. She turned the page to France and saw the mountain toppling over a vast new void
beneath it. Tinka and her family were gone.
She expanded again, distraught. All the world was going, as earthquakes leveled every remaining
building and volcanoes buried the rubble in ash and lava. The crust of the Earth was wrinkling like the
skin of an elephant, turning over and over, and the smoke and ash was so voluminous that day had
become night everywhere. There was no longer any air to breath; the fumes of the convulsion had
replaced it.
She turned the page to Jonah-and found only lava. The huge fish had been crushed and obliterated by the
titanic forces of the earth, and all the occupants were gone. Jezebel should have survived it, but perhaps
was lost in the Chaos. Orb was alone.
She hovered in stasis, unable even to decide how she should feel. The calamity was so complete! She
had reacted in pique and destroyed the world. What remained for her?

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