"Plastic."

"Plah-stick?"

"You're going to be seeing a lot of it. Come on, we need to get home. I just remembered that I have a deadline. If I rush, I'll make it."

"Dead lion?"

"Gah! Time limit? I have to do something before this evening, and I'm not going to be able if you don't stop dragging your heels! Now, come on!" She stalked out of the building.

Lupus would have liked to have stayed and examined the fascinating clear doors, but he realized with sudden alarm that he might very well be left if he didn't follow her. The idea of hurrying at a slave's behest was alien, but he had the feeling that he was going to have to make many adjustments to both his attitudes, and his expectations.

They went back to the strange metal box she had tried to coax him into before. She opened the door in the side, looking at him expectantly. He shook his head. She scowled. "I'm running out of patience, and since we're probably going to be stuck with each other for a long time, you don't want to use up my supply the first day. Riding in this will not hurt you--you're just going to have to trust me on this." He still hesitated. "Let me make it easy for you--get in the fucking car or I'll leave your ass."

Lupus gathered his courage and gingerly eased into the thing. It was surprisingly comfortable--the seat well cushioned, and very smooth. He touched the material wonderingly. It wasn't quite like leather. For one thing, he'd never seen leather that shade of green. He flinched when she shut the door, and relaxed only slightly when she went around to the other side and joined him in the thing.

"Put on your... Oh, hell, there's no way I'm going to be able to explain seat belts to you." She leaned over him, and Lupus happily started to slip an arm around her neck. "Stop that! I'm just trying to keep from getting a ticket." She pulled a set of woven straps so that they passed over his lap and diagonally across his torso, fastening to some sort of device at his left. "There. It's called a safety belt."

"Safe?"

"Yes."

"If safe, why you tie me to seat?"

"You have a valid point, but I don't have time to debate with you. Okay, there's going to be a lot of noise, and some shaking, and this thing is going to move. It's probably going to seem pretty fast to you, and there are going to be a lot more of these things moving around us. Just don't panic. This happens every day, okay? I'm not risking our lives." She reached for the key, muttering, "At least not as much as if, say, it was rush hour."

The engine started. Lupus jerked, then began tugging at the belt. "Stop it!" she ordered. "Okay, it doesn't purr, but it's not all that bad."

//"Mozelle, it growls!"//

"Will you just calm down? I don't live far away. If you go having a hissy fit, I'll end up against a fire hydrant or a telephone pole. Look, we're moving, all right? We're going down the road, and nothing is happening. Though that policeman parked over there might get interested if you don't settle down. He'll think you're drunk, or something."

That made him pause. "Ebrietas?" His tone was outraged. "So early?"

"It's been known to happen. Sit and shut." She was living in a Houston suburb, and she thought that maybe he might relax a little when they got into an area with buildings that were more of a size he was used to. She thought that was the case, since he'd stayed quiet for the rest of the drive. She pulled into her driveway and shut the engine off, then turned to open the seat belt buckle.

He was absolutely rigid, eyes clamped shut. *Oh, Christ.* She felt like she'd been tormenting a puppy. *It's probably the same as it was for me when I went on the roller coasters at Astroworld. No, worse--I did that voluntarily.* "Lupus," she said gently. "We're here, see? And you're in one piece. You're all right." He opened his eyes slowly, looking around, and some of the color came back into his face. That was good, because he'd been as pale as cheese, and she had been worried that he might faint. She had no idea what to do with fully-grown, unconscious man in ancient Roman dress.

She unhooked his seat belt, and pointed at the door handle. "Pull up on that, and push..." He gripped the handle, jerked, and shoved, and tumbled out of the car. "but not too hard." She leaned across the seat and peered out. "Are you okay?"

He sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh-kay?"

"No black out, flashing lights, sudden nausea?"

"No."

"Thank goodness." She got out of the car and shut her own door. "Shut and lock it. No, wait--lock, then shut it." He was staring at the open door mistrustfully. "Never mind." She went around, popped the lock down, and shut the car door. "Come on. I want to get you inside before the neighbors see and think I've been out at a rowdy all night costume party."

While Mozelle seemed to stick a tiny piece of metal into the door, Lupus looked around. This was an odd area. It didn't appear to be a city, but it wasn't the country, either. There were smooth patches of grass before each dwelling, some of them decorated with flowerbeds. The buildings themselves were strange, too. He didn't see any that were made of stone. There were a few brick ones that he wanted to take a closer look at. He'd never seen bricks that were so uniform in size and shape. And Mozelle's house... At first he had thought that it was painted wood, but when he touched it, then looked closer, it appeared to be something rather like the 'plastic' she had shown him.

"Come on!" She had the door open, and was waving him inside. One of those infernal creations turned into the end of the street, rumbling toward them, and he hastily entered the house.

It was dim inside the house. As she dropped her purse on the front table, Mozelle snapped the lights on. Lupus squawked and clapped a hand over his eyes, bumping into the wall. "Jesus! What's wrong?"

"Lights! Is there fire?"

"You've seen electric lights before, Lupus. At the museum, and at the McDonalds, and... And they were already burning, you haven't ever seen any turned on. You can uncover your eyes--they aren't going to get any brighter." He did, blinking cautiously. "Look, this is what controls them, this little doohicky. Down," she flipped it. "off. Up," she flipped the switch again, "On. You try." He looked from the switch, to her, then back again. His jaw firmed. She could almost hear him thinking, 'If a woman can do this, so can I'. He reached out, gingerly touching the switch. Nothing happened. "You have to push. Don't worry--I doubt you can break it."

He pushed again, and still nothing. Frowning, he pushed hard. The switch snapped down, and the lights went off. He flinched, looking around apprehensively, then cautiously pushed up on the switch. It snapped up, and the lights flashed on again. His expression cleared, and he laughed. In a moment he was flicking the switch rapidly--so rapidly that there was an almost stroboscopic effect. "I should have known." She grabbed his hand. "Enough. I'm sure I can find something else to keep you occupied while I do what I have to do." She walked deeper into the house. "I certainly hope so, because that would drive me nuts in short order."

A fat gray and black tabby cat came trotting to her, mewing busily. Mozell gave a glad cry and swooped down on him, crying, "Stinkpot!" The cat grunted in surprise, but didn't protest, apparently used to his mistress's eccentricities.

There was a soft sound, and Lupus and Mozelle both made a face. Lupus waved a hand in front of his face, saying, "Flattulus?"

"Hey, I named him Stinkpot even before I found out about his little problem. He's a little stinky sometimes, but he's sweet." She hugged the cat, and it purred. "Baby, I was worried about you! Okay, I was worried about a lot of other things before you, but I was worried. Are you hungry, hum?" The cat meowed. "Yeah, right, dumb question." She set him down. "C'mon, tooter, and mama will feed you. Lupus? Don't touch anything."

He followed them down a short hallway. The cat was a peculiar little beast. His body was almost square, his legs were very short, and his tail was very long. He looked rather like a matron's fur muff--with legs. They entered a bright room that had some sort of tile on the floor, and strange, shiny, boxy objects. The woman opened a cabinet and took out a bright paper bag--one that had a smiling cat on it. Lupus was astounded. He'd never seen a cat smile before. She poured some sort of hard nuggets into a bowl. They didn't look very appetizing, but the cat seemed to like them, judging by the way he gobbled them down.

She stroked the cat one more time, then said, "Okay, I need you kept quiet, out of my hair, and in one place for a couple of hours. I almost have that article for the museum guide done, and now I can finish it," she said as they walked back to the front of the house. "Huh, I wonder what kind of a response I'd get if I told them what I really thought? 'This museum is big, but still manages to keep from presenting a chilly, impersonal atmosphere. Visitors are advised to be careful of their seating choices when taking a rest, because the wrong one could cause unbelieveable crap in their lives.' Well, I never really liked the idea of using a television as a babysitter, but I don't think I have much choice here, and since the computer is in the same room, I'll be able to keep an eye on you. Have a seat."

Lupus seated himself on the sofa. He looked around, wondering what Mozelle did if she had guests for a meal, since there was only one couch, and it was rather high for eating off the table before it. "Pay attention." She stood beside a large black box, a small, dark tablet in her hands. "This is called a television, or teevee for short."

Lupus blinked. For short? It looked quite solid--how did they shrink it? She was continuing. "You like the theater? Plays?" He nodded. "Okay, think of this as plays-in-a-box. There's going to be movement and noise, so don't freak out, pay attention, and there should be something on it that you'll find interesting, at least for a little while."

She pointed the tablet at the box, and tapped it with her finger. Immediately there was light, color, and noise from the box. Intrigued, Lupus sat forward, staring at it. For the first few seconds it was hard to tell what was going on--things were moving so quickly. Then things slowed down, and he saw that there were men walking on a green field, that had odd white stripes on it. The men were dressed much alike. *Some sort of uniform? Yes, they're wearing some strange type of padded armor, and helmets. The face guards make sense...* There was another blur of motion, the men scrambling madly for no discernable reason. No, wait... one of them tossed an oddly shaped object to another, and most of the other men tried to bring down the second one. "Mozelle," he pointed. "What?"

"It's football."

"Foot--ball." He frowned, looking at her questioningly. A man wearing a tunic decorated with stripes of black and white seemed to be arguing with some of the soldiers. Lupus wondered at the man's bravery, to dispute with so many burly men.

"It's a game. They... Uh... Crap, I never really understood the rules perfectly. They sort of take turns trying to move that ball up and down the field, and trying to keep the other team from getting the ball. Whoever gets it to their end of the field the most time wins... sort of."

Lupus cocked his head, watching the men run, then suddenly stop again. "Why?"

She found herself smiling. "You've got me there. I never saw the point either, and I'm from Texas. Not interested in it?" He made a face and shook his head. "Damn," she muttered. "You might have made a decent boyfriend if you weren't raised to look at some people as cattle."

She tapped the tablet again, and the image on the box flickered. There was a group of people sitting on a dais, in front of an audience. Lupus prepared himself for a dramatic reading, though the people were not dressed like any actors he'd ever seen. The women... He almost blushed. Event the tarts in the Roman brothels dressed more decorously. One of them wore no more than tight trousers that barely covered her buttocks (Mozelle would tell him later that they were called 'Daisy Dukes'), and a strip of material around her chest.

As he watched, another woman, much older and heavier, leaped up and began to fight with the girl, pulling at her improbably pale hair and slapping her rouged cheeks. The box was emitting shrill peeping sounds that drowned out part of what the women were screaming, and what Lupus could hear was shocking. It sounded as if the younger woman had bedded the older woman's husband, and the older woman was her mother. He turned round eyes on Mozelle. She went, "Yeah, I suppose that Jerry Springer is a little much for you."

She tapped again. Something very large and purple was moving toward a group of children. He pointed in alarm, and she said, "No, there's no danger." Pause. "Well, no physical danger, anyway." She touched the tablet, and music flowed from the box. 'Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip, that started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship...'

"Great. This is going to have to do. I don't have time to keep it up." She handed the tablet to him, and he stared at it, bemused. "Look, if you get tired of this, just push this button, okay? Keep pushing it till you find something you like. I'm going to be right over here if you need me, but please try to amuse yourself for a little while. I have to finish this and get it sent off, or I won't be able to pay the rent next month."

He had no idea what she meant, but he nodded. She was acting tense, and he had a feeling that it would be best to humor her. Besides, there was now a terrible storm playing out in the box, and he couldn't take his eyes off it. Oh, those poor people! Were they going to be drowned before his very eyes? Then it seemed that they landed safely on a small island, and he felt great relief. Soon he was immersed in the story. It was brilliant. It took the powerful dramatic theme of being castaway, and built comedy upon it. He was soon immersed in the world of the intellectual Professor, the patrician Howells, and the sultry Ginger *Actress? Oh, some of them in Rome liked to call themselves 'actresses', too,* he thought cynically. Then there was the innocent, pastoral MaryAnn, and the two classic clowns, Skipper and Gilligan.

Mozelle waited till he seemed to be engrossed, then went to the computer and got started. Luckily she had all but the last few paragraphs of the article done, and she finished it quickly. If they were pleased with it, she might get commissioned to do more articles, since there were several other museums and historical sites within easy driving distance. She was sure she could sell them on the music museum in Port Arthur.

She emailed the finished document to the publisher, and relaxed with a sigh. That would cover the rest of the expenses for the month. Anything else she could sell could be extra, banked or squandered. Mozelle shut off the computer quickly, grateful that Lupus hadn't noticed it and started to ask questions about it. She had no clue as to how to explain the Internet.

She strolled over to the couch and stood behind it. It was still Gilligan's island. *How long has that been on? They must be having a marathon, or something. It sure has kept him quiet.* "Having fun?"

"Cannot understand all, but it is powerful."

She blinked. "Powerful?"

He nodded. "The human comedy. Best when it is truest. You see? They had chance to escape island prison, but could not leave gold. Now trapped again. Greed. Greed traps mankind."

She blinked. "You've deconstructed Gilligan's Island. You haven't been in my time a day, and you're hooked on one of the most notorious cheesy comedies of all time."

"Cheese?"

"Much too hard a concept to explain right now. How you doing?"

He shifted. "Chamberpot?"

She covered her eyes briefly. "This should be fun. Follow me."

She led him down the hall to the bathroom. "This is the bathroom." He looked around, raising his eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, I know--not much compaired to yours in the bathing department, but we have you beat all to hell in the waste disposal section." She waved at what looked like a sort of chair made of shiny white stone. But the center was hollow, with only a frame of sorts sitting on the rim. He looked at her. "You use that."

He wrinkled his nose. "In house? Mozelle, I use pot, easy to take out to lime pit."

"I'm going to have to show you. Look in it." He looked. Water. That would just make it more difficult to extract the waste and carry it away. "Watch." She pushed a small metal lever. This age and place seemed to really use a lot of switches, levers, and buttons. He didn't have time to think about this very closely, because there was a whooshing sound, and the water in the chair swirled, then was sucked down through a small hole at the bottom. A moment later there was the sound of running water, and the level began to rise again. "That, my friend, is one of the greatest inventions of the modern age--the indoor flush toilet." He bent down till his face was only a few inches from the seat. "Uh, Lupus? I'm pretty clean in here, but I still wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Amazing."

"I always appreciated them, but my bout with your chamberpots and outhouse really made them precious in my eyes." She flipped the seat up. "Up for liquids." She put it down again. "Down for solids, and when you're done. Always back down. I promise you that the first time I grope my way in here in the dark and have my bottom hit cold water because you forgot to put the seat down, I will wake your ass up and make you come in and put it back down, and yes I will get angry. And remember..." She pushed the handle, Lupus bent over again, fascinated. "Don't do that! If someone sees you do it in a public restroom, you're likely to get reported as strange. Do that every time you use it, and I mean every time. Paper is right there."

He poked the roll of toilet paper on the spindle, then tweezed the dangling edge and pulled... and pulled... and pulled. He'd unravelled a good three yards when she finally realized he wasn't going to stop. "Quit it. I've never seen anyone do that but my cat. Well, I trained him not to do it, I can train you." She reached over and tore the long strip loose from the roll.

Lupus bundled the paper into a loose wad, and lifted it. "What for?"

"Cleaning."

He looked at it thoughtfully, then began wiping the counter with it, looking at her questioningly. She fought down a smile. "Not that kind of cleaning, though you get points for being willing to do that. Personal cleaning, after you use that." She pointed at the toilet. "When you're done, just drop it in and flush." He was looking dubious, and she caught him eyeing the pretty little guest towel she had hung over the sink. "If you do I'll smack you! I paid five bucks for that towel."

He started to unlace his pants. "You show?"

She backed up quickly. "No way. And from here on in, bucko, you just don't get so damn casual about your bathroom habits around me. I don't have to put up with that here. Look, trust me--you're a relatively intelligent man--you'll figure it out." She headed out the door. "Just please, try not to use so much tissue that you plug up the pipes."