In due time the horseless chariots moved away, the mass chasing
in single file the leader. And endless sequence followed madly
after the leading chariot. Was this a race, or a new form of war?
Along the pathway a bench attracted his attention, and he sat
down, took dried venison from his poke. A young man, perhaps his
own age, approached.
"Hey, got a dollar? I'd like to borrow a dollar for a while."
"What, pray, is a dollar?"
The youth stared at him for a moment. "All right, forget it!
Whatcha eatin'? What's in th' poke?" He gestured toward Demo's
pouch.
"Food, good food. Would you care for some tasty viands?"
"Vines? Did you say vines? That ain't vines you're eatin'.
Looks like meat to me. You got any more?"
"Yes, try it. You'll find it quite tasty. My mother dried it
under the sun, salted it herself."
The suppliant tasted the dried venison, looked at Demo in
disbelief. "Hell, I'm going to the Salvation Army. You really
eat this stuff!"
A large horseless chariot pulled up alongside him. A woman
starred at him through some strange, clear material. She smiled,
then laughed. He looked around to see what caused her laughter.
Nothing untoward met his sight. Ill-dressed heathens strolled
aimlessly, it seemed, along the wide pathway. No, there was
nothing amusing to be seen.
Frowning, he continued to eat his dried venison. Two men
dismounted from the chariot, and it drove away, moaning in a
disquieting manner.
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