An hour later, Father Obregón was racing away from the farm in his hoversled, zipping through a forest of giant fungal towers.
He was also speaking without moving his lips.
"I'll be there in three days, Shen." Father Obregón spoke in his mind over the planet-wide Soulnet that kept him in touch with his scattered congregation. "Plenty of time to make your daughter's bat mitzvah."
Shen Ping's words flowed into his brain like warm water. "You're a mensch, Rabbi. I know you won't let us down."
"Have I ever?" Father Obregón chuckled in his head. "Relax, Bubbi! Two hundred miles of wilderness, and I'll be whipping you at arm-wrestling again."
"Doesn't count!" said Shen. "You're a splicer! How can I ever beat a genetically modified rabbi s***h preacher s***h cleric s***h whatever?"
