The initiates were already feeding, munching their way through an afternoon tea of small fruit tarts and apple strudel made with thin, soft pastry. I thought of Black Stump’s struggle with the cornmeal. Evidently Nearer To Heaven had no problems with flour supplies. ‘An Outland’s Clinic,’ exclaimed Sister Louise around a mouthful of raspberries and pastry. She was tall and stringy and broad fingered. Brother Perry had introduced her as ‘our darling ceramicist’. She glanced at Sister Karen, then back at me. ‘Why would you think we’d know anything about such a thing.’ Because you’re all obviously rejuvenated, I thought. And because, given the rate you’re stuffing those pastries down your neck, you have undoubtedly had metabolism enhancement too. And you’ve got a ModPlod down in your paddock. But I said nothing. The last thing we needed to do was antagonise them. ‘We follow the human norm, dear child,’ said Brother Perry earnestly. ‘We would never have dealings with a place like that.’ ‘I know,’ I said.
