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Alice made a few steps toward the dog, but the dog backed away, as though it wanted to play with her. The dog was enormous, shaggy, white with rusty red markings.

A small man hardly larger than Alice came walking toward them from around the bushes.

“What’s going on here?” He asked; Alice understood the question because she had known the local language since yesterday morning.

“Your dog attacked my cat.” Alice answered in Coleidan.

“Naughty puppy!” The man said.

He was dressed in grey pants and a grey shirt, and he carried a long whip in his hands. Evidently, he was the local shepherd.

“And get him to give back the tail. He torn the tail off the kitten.” Alice said.

“What sort of tail is that for a cat?” The shepherd was astonished. “He certainly didn’t grow it.”

“Just give it back.” Alice repeated.

“Rezra, put it down.” The shepherd said.

The dog dropped the tail from its mouth, and Alice, not letting go of the archaeologist in her arms, picked the tail up.

“Thank you.” She said. “Is the train leaving soon?”

“Which train?”

“For the capitol.”

“In an hour.” The shepherd answered. “But just who are you?? Why don’t I know you? I’m certain I know everyone in town.”

“I came here on a field trip.” Alice said. “And I’m returning home. I live in the capitol.”

“And you speak really odd.” The shepherd said. “As if you knew all the words, but not how they’re spoken.”

“I live a long way away.” Alice said.

The shepherd nodded his head in doubt.

“And you dress very oddly.” He said.

The archaeologist gasped and clutched himself closer to Alice.

“What do you mean by oddly?”

“You look sort of like a child, but you’re nearly as tall as I am.”

“It just seems that way.” Alice said. “I’m over sixteen.”

“I suppose…” The shepherd said.

Then the man turned to Rezra, summoned the dog, and still nodding his head began to walk toward the bushes. But then, when Alice had already thought the danger had passed, the man stopped and asked:

“But what about your cat? If my dog tore off your cat’s tail, there should be a lot of blood.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t let it bother you.” Alice said.

“Show him to me.”

“Good bye.” Alice said. “I’ll be late for my train.”

And she walked quickly off down the path toward the city without turning around and looking back, although the shepherd called after her once or twice. She would have run, but she was afraid that the dog would chase after her.

“Well, is he…” The archaeologist whispered.

“I don’t know. I’m not going to look back.”

The path widened out, flowing into a dirt road; in front of he were warehouses or a market place, and Alice hurried along, sticking as close as she could to the wall to hide herself from the shepherd’s view. She was convinced he would now start to chase after her.

Alice stopped behind the buildings and caught her breath.

“Our cover story isn’t as well thought out as I thought it was.” The archaeologist insisted. “And our pronunciation is off. The idea of a field trip is unconvincing. Why would someone go on a field trip alone in the early morning? Better… Ah remember this: you came here to visit your grandmother and you’re returning now… By the way, I quite forgot: young girls don’t wear their hair quite the way you have yours. They wear it combed down onto the forehead.”

“Well, my hair is short.”

“All the same, comb it forward into bangs.”

“I’ll have to put you down on the ground to do it.”

“No, please! The dogs here are fierce!”

“There are no dogs around here. Do you want me to put you in my bag?”

“In the bag, yes! Perfect. Just take my knife and cut a small hole in the side; how else will I be able to look out?”

Alice placed the archaeologist in the bag with the spray can of vaccine and handed him the remains of his tail. She cut a small hole in the side so the archaeologist could see what was going on around them.



“It’s too bad you don’t have any thread.” Purr said. “How am I going to be able to fix my tail?”

“I told you to attach it firmly.”

“You’ve never had a dog tear your tail off.” The archaeologist shot back. “You wouldn’t be laughing then.”

“I am not laughing. Look around in the bag; there might be a needle and thread in the side compartment. My grandmother always keeps throwing in useless things.”

Alice unclasped the bag on the ‘molnia.’ Then she managed to comb her hair forward onto her forehead, and headed for the train station.

Fortunately, the city was still sleeping. The windows were closed, the curtains were drawn, and not a single person even suspected that in a week’s time the only things moving on streets just as empty would be the emergency services vehicles.

“I’m sorry for you.” Alice told the houses where the people were sleeping. “But you can depend on me.”

“Just maybe we’ll be enough.” The archaeologist’s voice came from the bag muffled, as though from far away.

“Quiet.” Alice said. “If anyone overhears you, you’ll give them heart attacks to hear a bag talking.

The newspaper kiosk was already open. The proprietor looked familiar; she’s seen him in the holographic record when Petrov had carried him to the hospital. If Alice was not successful he would die in that hospital.

Alice pulled a few coins out of her pocket.

“Do you have today’s newspaper?”

The proprietor was a middle aged little man in four cornered, horned rim glasses.

“A moment, citizeness.” He said. “If you’ll wait, we’ll have them shortly.”

“Will it be long?”

“Not very. You heard that train puffing? It just brought the morning newspaper from the capitol. They’ll bring it her shortly.”

“And does the train start back for the capitol then?”

“Yes, in about twenty minutes.”

“Then give me yesterday’s issue.” Alice said.

The proprietor handed her the paper and change.

“You new around here?” He asked her.

“I’m a foreign tourist.”

“A-ha,” The little old man said. “I could guess at once that you weren’t from around here.”

After Alice had gotten away from the kiosk and crossed to the other side of the small square where a monument to an unknown man on a mount stood at present, and which would still be stranding in a hundred years, she told the archaeologist:

“I should have made clothing like they wear here before I came.”

“Who could have guessed it earlier?”

“Gromozeka, of course.”

On the other side of the square was a small public garden. On both sides of the paths stretched large concrete boxes with flowers. The flowers had bloomed, spreading wide to cath the sun. A city bus stopped in front of the train station and little people in work clothing came out of it and went inside the statio. A column of stream rose over the low building of the train station and the steam engine hooted.

“Have you read the newspapers yet?” Purr asked.

“I can’t do that while walking>“

“Then give it to me.”

Alice rolled the newspaper into a tube and put it in her bag. Purr immediately handed it back to her.

“Where did you get the idea that I can read in a bag?” The archaeologist whispered. “It’s far too ark, and I can’t even open it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have asked.”

“Find us a bench.” The archaeologist said. “Sit down and read it.”

“First I have to buy a train ticket.” Alice said. “Or we’ll be late, and then you can read as much as you want. Why has your mood gotten so sour?”

“Motion sickness.” Purr answered. “Have you ever been carried around in a bag?”

“No.”

“Me neither. By the way, there’s something very uneven about your gait. You’re jumping all the time.”

“I am not!”

Still squabbling with the archaeologist Alice went in through the station’s door and saw the ticket window. She knew where to look for it because the archaeologists in the future had excavated almost the entire train station. In fact, it turned out that they had not determined the precisely the meaning and usage of everything correctly, but at the moment that did not play a role.