Chapter VII
A Slug and the Demolishers of Heaven
“I would like for the slug to join us.”
A sixty-six-year-old Israeli-American who had a long white ponytail and a calm face that was dominated by thick black eyebrows reached into a large bowl of nuts, seeds and dried fruit, which sat upon the green metal table that separated him from Carlo Burgacci. With long fingernails, the serene Semite named Elad withdrew an almond that was the exact same hue as his own linen robes.
The captive’s waist and shoulders were restrained by pseudopodia, and his hands were bound in a sphere of dense foam rubber, which lay in his lap like a bowling ball, and his blue cotton suit was scuffed from its rendezvous with the asphalt. Appraising his interrogator, the window (which was crowded with moonlit trees) a
