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316 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1997
Gen settled down on the divan. A crumpled TV lay on the side table; she picked it up, shook it out, laid it across her lap. She flicked idly across the stations, then switched to information services. She called up SEARCH, typed in the name VANNICE and it set it to scan news reports over the last week.
In a minute the procession [of Jesus going to his crucifixion] had passed. Beside Owen a matron with hennaed hair stood openmouthed. She played with her wristward, disguised as a gold bracelet, turning it over and over. “He’s so short,” she said to her husband.
“So?”
“Can’t we do anything?”
“This is just history, Margaret,” her husband said, “Get ahold of yourself.”