Chapter Seventy
I find myself bodiless on a familiar New York street.
A beautiful woman is walking there, dressed in a strappy black dress.
She has the black hair from Rasputin’s memory, and her shoulders—and her everything else—are vitamin-D-deficiency pale. What the dress reveals of her back is indeed graceful, but more importantly, if you took my face and removed any features I have in common with Rasputin, you’d get this woman’s visage.
This is my mother.
I know this beyond a shadow of doubt—despite the fact that she looks too young to have a kid my age. Then again, the Cognizant don’t age the same way.
The woman turns to walk into a building, and I realize why this street looks so familiar.
This is where Nero lives.
Is this some Twilight Zone “Meet the Parents” episode? My fat
