The man in the fur hat warned me things might be different after we crossed the time barrier—that my presence might confound, even frighten those who’d forgotten me.
“We need more soft bedding; everything now is hopelessly stained. We need better antiemetics. We need a miracle, and somebody to say so. It’s not going to be him.”
Her species procreates through a sacred sermonic skin grafting ritual, but the idea of sex with a teenage human male she found truly grotesque.