She led me past the shoreline and into a jungle flourishing with trees bearing fruit the likes of which I had only glimpsed back in the redwood canopy. For twenty minutes we feasted on a pineapple-size seed that tasted like freshly baked wheat bread, then enjoyed dessert—a black sapote fruit with a puddinglike inside that rivaled the richest dark chocolate mousse.

“Dharma, how safe are the cephalopeds in this valley? What’s to stop the children of GOLEM from entering the doline and hunting them down?”

“The doline is protected.”

“How? From what I can see it’s wide open.”

“I don’t know how, which means Oscar and his people don’t know either. It was conveyed to me that the cephalopeds can leave the valley, but the children of GOLEM cannot enter. The cephalopeds credit the Blessed Heavenly Ones Who Nurture with this miracle.”

“Is that cephaloped-speak for God?”

“I’m not sure. It is a subject I intend to pursue in our next sharing. It’s getting dark. We should return to the cave.”

“Why? You said we were safe.”

“It is what Oscar wishes.”

“You go. I need some alone time to think. I also want to see what this jungle has on its dinner menu.”

“Very well. Let’s meet at the lagoon in two hours for the swim back. The cephalopeds will be there to assist us.”

“Did they just communicate that to you?”

She blushed. “It is far more efficient than an h-phone.”

“While lacking any sense of privacy. Two hours at the lagoon.”

We exchanged a passionate kiss, then I waited until she disappeared down the path before engaging ABE. Query: Can you block Dharma from reading my thoughts?

A STATIC BIORHYTHMIC FILTER CAN BE ESTABLISHED THAT WOULD SCRAMBLE ROBERT EISENBRAUN’S THOUGHT ENERGY TO ALL EXTERNAL RECEIVERS.

Do it. Then use my visual survey of the terrain and plot the best course to reach the nearest exit point to this doline.

ABE led me through the jungle, the elevation gradually steepening as I approached the growth-lined walls of the doline. The sun had dropped below the edge of the crater, casting shadows across the valley by the time I arrived at the chosen exit point—a fallen juvenile redwood. The tree’s massive trunk leaned against the top of the crater lip 220 feet overhead.

Experiencing a strange sense of déjà vu, I began the climb.