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And yet she was not a gruesome sight。 Quite the opposite。 Despite her condition； the woman's beauty was evident。 Her hair was long。 Except for the transparent roots； it was black and tangled with flowers and vegetation。 Her figure was voluptuous； with luminous breasts and flared hips。
She came to a halt。 Some noticed her lower legs and feet。 The skin was torn。 Shepherds' dogs had bitten her。 Thorns stuck from the edges of her soles。 Even if this transfigured being had descended from the heavens； it was clear she had also walked a long distance。
It might have been the smell of the sea which stopped her； or the warmth of the sun or the flatness of the square； the fact that she was no longer being pulled downhill。 Or it could have been the sight of the church。 No one knew why she stopped in their midst。 She had a slight cough。
〃What is your name？〃 a man called out。
Nothing in her radiant face conveyed knowledge。 She seemed not to register the question。 Her peacefulness was startling。
〃Why have you e here？〃 someone asked。
Her mouth opened； but no language came out； only a sound like the beginning of a song。 Her innocence stilled them。 They listened to her single note of sound。 It went on and on。
She raised her arms out to the sides。 Something wondrous happened。 Wings of color flashed and disappeared as her hands lifted up。 Her flesh had bee a prism。 She faced the sun； and her entire body threw a penumbra of rainbow。
〃What kind of creature is this？〃 someone asked。
Someone might have recognized her； even in her condition； if she were a daughter of this island。 As it was； no one in this town had ever met Medea； the fifth wife of Nikos Engatromenos。 She was a stranger to them regardless of her flesh。
An old woman in black dared to go forward。 Clutching her rosary； she reached out and touched the angel。 The strange creature lifted her head and turned blindly in the direction of the old woman。 A murmur rifled through the crowd。
The old woman brought her face closer and made her judgement。 She knelt。〃Evloyite；〃 she said。 Normally it was a greeting reserved only for monks。 She said it again。Bless me。 Rainbows danced upon the old woman's black dress。
Devotion overtook the crowd。 It was spontaneous。 In their collective minds； the woman was nothing less than an angel fallen to earth。
Word spread。 Hundreds of people came close to genuflect and reach out to touch her。 Those close enough crossed themselves with beads of her sweat。 Others tore off bits of their clothing to press to her miraculous flesh。
In the distance； a horn sounded from the sea。 The 12：10 ferry from Brinidisi was approaching。 Dock workers and merchants and taxi drivers and cafe owners detached from the crowd and hurried to greet the boatload of tourists。
Medea sang to them。 She glistened。 On foot； with wings of light； the plague had e to meet its messengers。
5
Crossing the Line
NEWMEXICO
SEPTEMBER； FOURMONTHSLATER
Their yellow schoolbus burst from the mob。 Splattered with eggs and blood and neon paintballs； it looked psychedelic； like a time machine from the Age of Aquarius。 Abbot glanced around him。 Peeking from the windows； some of his fellow passengers could have been flower children with their stringy hair and old jeans。 In fact they were international scientists on their way to the Mesa； better known as Los Alamos National Laboratory。
Every seat was filled。 There were young and old； rich and poor； weird and plain； each one of them on the cutting edge of their research。 From the rear； he saw bleached blond buzz cuts and pierced ears； long hair； bald monk pates； pencil necks； wrestler shoulders； mad scientist frizz； and expensive blow…dried perms； male and female。 Some were high…bred cosmopolitans able to navigate the most convoluted dinner conversation。 Others were near dumb with introspection and shyness。 Some lived by Bach； others by Puff Daddy。 Many were university academics or ran labs for the government or private industry。 Several had branched out and beached tens of millions with their own biotech start…ups。 The majority were biologists； who tended to be more social and grounded than； say； mathematicians or particle theorists。 Abbot thought that had to do with their proximity to living beings； regardless of how minuscule。 In one form or another； they handled the mortal coil。 It kept them from spinning off into surreality。
Abbot was the chief of the National Academy of Sciences。 The riot reflected on him。 He had orchestrated for them a quiet taste of the Southwest。 Rancho Encantado was a resort north of Santa Fe。 The Dalai Lama had stayed there once。 There was a picture in the lobby of him with a cowboy hat。 For the first two days； the scientists had presented papers； showed pictures； and ridden horses。 This morning they had risen early and eaten a pancake…and…eggs breakfast； and boarded the bus。 And driven straight into that howling gauntlet awaiting them on Highway 40。
There was no questioning the mob's hatred for the scientists。 The demonstrators had let the eggs rot in the sun for days。 You could smell the sulfur dioxide on the riot cops hunkered in the aisles and in the well of the bus door。 Their ninja…turtle armor dripped with gouts of neon paint and spoiled food； and the scientists leaned away from them。 The paint and rotten food were mischief； thought Abbot。 But the blood was pure malice。 It was human； donated by the pint from radical anarchists。 In these times of AIDS and Hep…C； throwing blood was not a statement； it was an act of terrorism。
The newspapers would treat it as one more demonstration against the G。E。s； or genetic engineers。 Token peaceniks would decry the random violence； but denounce the evil scientists。 The sheriff would stress his restraint； the governor would extend apologies。 It was all theatrics。 Abbot knew how these things worked。 Someone very high up had authorized putting some fear of God into the distinguished members of Genome XXI； the twenty…first symposium of the Human Genome Project。
Abbot mulled over his enemies。 There was a vicious Senate battle in progress over budget cuts。 The sciences were being treated like parasites。 In the name of his creationist constituents； Senator Jimmy Rollins of Kansas was once again frothing at the mouth； a feeble mind； a cheap plagiarist。 It could have been the European Union lobby； of course； still trying to block genetically modified 〃frankenfoods〃 from their shores。 Or the farm unions； working for leverage。
〃Stop fretting；〃 Abbot's seatmate said。 Her name tag readElise Golding/UC。 The 〃UC〃 was too humble。 In fact the University of California was almost an empire unto itself； including even Los Alamos。 Fossilized bubblegum stuck to the wall beside her plaid skirt。 She patted his arm。 〃It's the times； Paul。〃
Her salt…and…pepper hair was bound in a thick ponytail。 The low sunlight glinted off the planes of her face。 The radiance stripped her face of its crow's…feet and laugh lines。 For a moment she appeared thirty years younger； that same young woman he'd first met； ironically； at a wild stormy protest against the Vietnam War。 She had been on the faculty at Cornell； he at MIT。 Everyone had been full of daring th