Leon seemed reluctant to face the day, but soon he was on his feet, brewing us a pot of coffee. Our folding table was gone, replaced by a box of ultrasound gear. Leon and Vivi had been up while I slept—perhaps with Urxula working on the project too. Inside the wooden crate were the two ultrasonic emitters, parts of the tape recorder and the radio, plus three four car batteries, with everything wired and soldered together. A grid of little speakers was arrayed along the front end of the crate. A pair of smooth sedan-chair type carrying poles were affixed to the crate’s sides.
“Hafh’drn ’ai nog fhtagn,” said Leon, cheerfully raising his cup of coffee in a toast.
Hafh’drn ’ai nog fhtagn“I hate clothes,” said Vivi, wrapping herself in a fleece. “Why do humans wear them? Why can’t they regula
