Flinx flaunted no such artificial enhancements, unless one counted the Alaspinian minidrag coiled around his neck and left shoulder. It was these often elaborate anatomical decorations that were the focus of admiring attention, and not the commonplace nakedness that framed them. Protective sprays blocked harmful UV rays without damaging the skin, and frivolous, transitory painted highlights decorated bodies both attractive and past their prime. In the human beach culture of 554 A.A., the superfluity of wearing clothing into the sea or along its edge had long been recognized. His nudity did not excite comment because every one of the other sun and water worshipers strolling or lying about on the seashore was similarly unclothed.
As active as she was colorful, the mature female minidrag was the only thing he was presently wearing. An iridescent flutter of pleated pink-and-blue wings and lethal, diamond-backed body, she would rise from his shoulder to dart aimlessly about his head and neck before settling restlessly back down into her customary position of repose. Sensitive to his frustration, Pip had been acting fidgety for days. Tacrica was a beautiful place in which to be discouraged. Only, the soil he was treading presently was being treated by those around him with something other than veneration, and a means of sourcing the information he hoped to uncover was still to be found. So it was with Flinx, who in searching for the history of himself, found that he was once again treading upon the hallowed, mystic soil of the spherical blue-white womb among the stars that had given birth to his whole species. But when you are chasing yourself, the most simple facts of existence become disturbing, destabilizing, and a source of unending waking confusion. When good people are chasing you, life is awkward. CHAPTER 1 When bad people are chasing you, life is dangerous.
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