Chapter Twelve
Oranges and Socks
“The tossing of a wig is on par with the tossing of a bra.”—The Mae West robot
The Librarian wheeled himself to the slit of a window, stared at the garbage bins rattling in the wind below, and thought of all that he had done for this so-called city.
He had tried to instill some sort of dignity in his leader, warn about the meat, about the women becoming stronger, but Manifesto the Great’s mind wandered like an ant across the desert, and all those so-called readers did was jeer him.
Bugger the lot of them, he thought.
He deserved his last hoorah or at least a decent view, and he wasn’t going to give that up without a fight.
The Librarian sighed, reversed from the window, and crashed into a table, sending a glass of water flying.
Beryl, jumping from h
