Part II—Sally100 years after the events of Part I.
* * *
See d**k. See d**k wave to his mother. See Jane. See Jane wave to her mother. Sally does not have a mother. Sally was grown in a vat.
* * *
When puberty came upon me like a lion in the spring of seventy-six, I pretty much knew I was a lesbian. And I was okay with that. Lots of girls liked other girls, it was cool. We were nearing the end of the twenty-first century after all, and these days most folks would even go so far as to bake me a big gay cake for my big gay wedding.
But there would be no wedding for me, no cake—not because I was against the idea of marriage—but because I happened to fall in love with an artificial girl. And that was definitely not cool, at least not by society’s standards.
“What’s it like to have a moth
