When he woke up, Rodrigo was sent on his way with thanks and a slice of birthday cake. He asked if there was any heavy lifting he could do for the ladies before he left, because Taylor had picked a gentleman for Clarice, but there wasn't.
It felt odd having a party for your sixtieth birthday when your body is that of a healthy forty-year-old, but Clarice wasn't complaining. The latest gossip was about how senior oil executives were turning into donkeys, which was being covered by the media as an odd human interest story rather than an indication that the fabric of reality was fraying a bit. Clarice's group had a pretty good idea what was going on. Maybe we can get a donkey for the farm, Becky suggested.
After the cake and coffee the conversation turned, as it often did, to thealogy. What was the relation of Taylor to the goddess? Prophet, chosen, daughter, incarnation, avatar? Every position had someone advocating it. But what was frustrating was that only Clarice and Dana had actually met the goddess's chosen. Clarice knew that some of the younger girls were talking about heading to the city so they could see Taylor in person, an idea she was discouraging. But ultimately every follower of the goddess was free to make her own decisions.