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Zid had horizontally configured jaws and vertical mouth slits. The sideways-projecting jaws resulted in T-shaped skulls, hence the slur "T-heads," while the up-and-down mouths reminded some of clams, giving birth to the pejorative "clam heads."
    Add to that the fact that Zid physiology called for only one eye, which had the capacity to roam the entire width of their skulls, plus cheek gills through which they breathed, and it was difficult for either race to ignore the extent to which they were physiologically different.
    There were similarities, however, including the fact that both species had four limbs, walked erect, and boasted opposable thumbs. Never mind that the Zid had three fingers instead of four.
    Kora stepped forward, held out both hands palm out, and waited for the human to do likewise. The Zid's lips rippled from top to bottom. She spoke Spanglish with a thick, almost guttural accent. "Come, it is warm within."
    Mary didn't want to leave the riot gun outside, but knew Kora would be offended if she brought it with her. She laid the weapon on the doorstep, covered it with a mat, and stepped inside.
    The hut consisted of one large room. A carefully banked fire sent smoke up through six ceiling-mounted holes. Others allowed for ventilation, but most were closed. What light there was came from candles in wall niches. Mary chose one of the three-legged stools, warmed her hands over the fire, and waited for Kora to speak. As with most members of her species, the Zid was extremely direct.
    "I have news from the east.... A male with brown skin, and a daughter such as you described, were seen in Rift-wall."
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    Doon approached his destination with care. The street seemed normal enough, as did his fellow pedestrians. It was only when he drew abreast of the shop, and spotted the Zid's characteristic heat signature, that he understood the danger. The Church had a line on the roboticist and kept her shop under surveillance. Not especially good, but not too bad, since she continued to live mere. How to make contact? And do so without attracting attention?
    The synthetic passed the shop without slowing, reached the end of the block, and took a left. The original grid called for alleys behind each row of prefab buildings, but some had been blocked by earthquake damage, and others had been sealed to limit access. Such was the case here.
    A barrier had been erected across the mouth of the alley and subsequendy turned into an ad hoc bulletin board—just one of hundreds that had sprung up throughout the city. Hundreds of white, blue, and yellow triangles showed where posters had been torn away. One bulletin remained.
    Doon ripped it free and read the text. The words were printed in the spaces between the names on an old duty roster. "MACHINES ARE EVIL—SO SAYETH THE LORD." There was more, but the synthetic had no desire to read it. He handed the paper to the wind and watched it whirl away.
    Doon scanned the area. There were pedestrians, heads down, minding their own business, and a prayer caller off to the south, but no sign of interest in him or his activities. A quick scan of the most popular radio frequencies produced nothing of note. The synthetic backed away, took three quick steps, and hit the barrier. Wood splintered and fell away. Doon widened the hole, pushed the pack through, and followed with his body.
    Once within, Doon saw that the other end of the alley was closed as well. Without city services, and with no other place to dispose of their trash, the alley had become a garbage dump. Only the fact that people had very little material to throw away, and the consistently cold weather, had prevented the intense bacterial action that would have rendered the entire area unlivable.
    Ground-level windows and doors were boarded up. If any of the residents had seen the synthetic, or were aware of his presence, they gave no sign of it. Doon plugged the hole as best he could, reshouldered the pack, and made his way