The byway ahead of them was crowded with bodies. Most of them were naked, sleek and featureless with blue or black or red skin and fingers and toes webbed together. Some had only shallow indentations for eyes, mouth, ears, and genitals. A few were umbilical-corded together.

Anonybodies. People rented them sometimes, to be present somewhere without having to travel, but Fift had never seen more than two or three of them in one place. Now, a few hundred were filling the byway, crowded around a Vail standing on a puff-pillar in some kind of historical recreationist military regalia—a plumed and glittery upholstered exoskeleton crowded with bangles, curlicues, jewels, and mirrors. The Vail’s head poked out from the carapace, and vir face had the haggard, hard, too-smooth look of the very old.

Fift and Shria slowed gradually to a halt. Shria’s hand squeezed Fift’s.

Lookup came through, grudgingly: Panaximandra Shebol of name registry Central Glory 2, 1-bodied Vail, 935 years old.

Fift swallowed. The exoskeleton was not a recreation. It was real armor, from the Age of War.

“Certainly, there is an escalating risk of behavioral disinhibition,” Father Grobbard said, “the longer this goes on.” Ze settled back into zir seating harness.

Panaximandra lifted one hand—the movement was a blur, the powered exoskeleton supplying military-grade somatic fluidity—and pointed at Shria and Fift. “And there they are,” ve said. The crowd turned to look.

“What’s wrong, Fift?” said Father Frill. “What’s going on? You look like Kumru when ve discovered vir destiny!”

Fift couldn’t move—not in any of zir bodies. Ze watched the ancient warrior smile.

“Children,” Panaximandra said. “Children! Take a good look. Do a lookup, if you can. Fift Brulio Iraxis of name registry Yellow Peninsula Sugarbubble 5. Shria Qualia Fnax, of name registry Digger Chameleon 2. They are sixteen years old. Only sixteen years ago, Midwives visited the homes of their parental cohorts to perform the sacred rites. Sixteen years ago, these new individuals, these brand-new people were born—born in blood and amniotic fluid. With groaning and sweating they were pushed through dilated cervixes into the world. Sixteen years ago they opened their eyes for the first time, and beheld their parents.”

Anonybodies turned to look at them with blank, unfinished faces.

“What in the squandering . . . ?” Shria said.

“And who were those parents?” Panaximandra asked. “Those lucky people, who were given the right to create life? Note that I say given. They did not take the right, as their due, as their inheritance, as their destiny as human beings. No, they were given it, and they accepted it humbly. They were honored. So honored.”

“Fift!” Father Frill said. Ve took a step into the room.

Fift held up a hand to shush vem.