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280 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1971
"Moses Eppendorf steered his minisub carefully through the mile-wide interior of the anaerobic digester... Flexing the craft's surface charge, he shook off the sticky trail of yeasts and mycelia. He maneuvered close to a yellow translucent mass about ten times the size of his sub and extended his sampler tube. Aspirating a fragment of the gelatinous material, he moved on. So far it looked like a routine inspection"
"Bitter stuck her head in the door.
'Meld time,' she smiled. Her body glowed from her long hot soak in the refresher. Even her finger nails had softened. Her vented robe hung in loose folds without its belt. Umbillicus and areola peeked out.
'Join us, invited Walter, nodding with three chins.
Val started to shake is head - no.
Bitter hooked her hand under his arm and pressed him with a bony knee. 'Certainly you'll stay. You brought the pressed rat. We'll sauce up the wafers and pour a little liqueur - might even pass around a little Molecular Reward. It will be a real warm meld.'
Walter took his other arm and the two of them swept a protesting Val into their living room. Neutral Arthur, nude sans genitals, was busy setting up ornate platters and tall goblets. The soft meld pad was unrolled on the floor beside the eating utensils. Jo Jo, young, thin and preoccupied, studied a small amount of sweet aromatic liquid in his glass. Busch, a slightly older, more roughly mannered male, stood against a wall. Val hadn't noticed Arthur's neutral body, but when old fat Walter began to struggle out of his muddy tunic his redundant folds of flesh were impossible to ignore. Although Walter was a polarized male, it was impossible to tell; for a fatty apron of meat hung from his belly to his knees - the panniculus. He looked more like an unfinished clay statue than a human."
"They were seated on the bank, munching shellfish. A bulky robot straddled the canal silently - an Irrigator. Moses pointed to the robot's optic pickups.
'Don't we have to worry about that thing reporting us?' he asked.
''Toothpick says that it's only a class eleven. Goes around checking soil moisture and spraying water. No circuits for Buckeye detection.'
Toothpick put in, 'We must watch out for class tens, though. Anything that can run around without a track usually has enough brains to detect us. Harvesters, Tillers, Metal Gatherers, things like that.'
Moses continued to munch thoughtfully. The white flesh of the shellfish had a definite crunchy consistency. It gave him a rich, full sensation - lots of good amino acids.
The water in front of him rippled noisily. He watched the spot. A large, ugly, humanoid head broke the surface, stared straight at him and ducked under again.
Then he saw it again - a human child riding on the back of a non-human dugong. Before he could comment on the genetic arithmetic, the mother - a human female, puberty plus four - left the water and approached. Her wet hair clung in dripping tangles. Streaks of mint-green scum rimmed her neck and chin. Sullen, dark eyes glared. She carried a wooden blade low in her right hand.
Toothpick called: 'Back out, men; I detect a golden corpus luteum'
Moon jumped quickly to his feet and backed up the canal, picking up Toothpick. Moses followed...
'That was a coweye, 'explained Moon. 'They are dangerous in the luteal phase.'