There was a woman in a toga standing by the side of the road. She shivered in the early spring breeze, the kind of breeze which made everyone comment “Wow, it may be sunny, but it sure isn’t summer yet.” Cars drove by her slowly wondering if she had forgotten her sandwich board advertising “Athena’s Souvlaki House.”
The woman followed the crowd into the station and got on one of the train’s cars. She wasn’t sure where the woman she sought was, but her nose told her this was the right direction.
Everyone pretended not to notice that there was a woman in a toga on Skytrain.
She was getting closer. The Oracle of the IQF Line had summoned her. She was here.