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test the capricious needles of destiny?"
    Worm Jacket and Giraffe and even the storeowner turned to me. My eyes leapt from Kira to the others and back again. I swallowed and said, "Yes?" hoping that was the right answer.
    "Kira Shibui, Celebrity Executive Officer of Python Duck Men's Fantasy Skivvé!" boomed the storeowner. "Visionary knitter, designer, and warTalker extraordinaire. She truly warms the new Stanton-Bell Tex-knitter 222!" He ran a hand along the top of the machine. "I will have this sent to your flagship tonight!"
    Worm Jacket and Giraffe began talking excitedly as the storeowner rambled on with numbers and jargon. Meanwhile, Kira's eyes lingered on mine.
    "Kira Shibui," I whispered, happy to have remembered her name.
    She didn't exactly smile, but something deep in her eyes seemed to warm. Turning, I headed out of the fashion motor boutique. My hands were vibrating, my heart was racing, and I felt like I wasn't getting enough air. In the hallway, I stood for a moment and caught my breath. I didn't know what was happening, but my root had stiffened for the first time.

DESIGN STUDIO
    "Pheff!" I shouted. "Yes?" came his reply from the storeroom.
    I was in the design room, downing the last of my coffee as I laid out my things on one of the worktables. "You rescheduled Mr. Nezzo?"
    Pheff returned with a box. "Yes, Tailor."
    "What about the Pings?"
    "They're coming next week." He set down the box.
    "Did the button extruder get fixed?"
    "The guy's supposed to come after two."
    I thought it was supposed to have happened the day before. "Okay, but wasn't the Transmission Mills salesman supposed to be here already?"
    "I jotted him. Told him tomorrow."
    "Tomorrow's no good."
    "I'll jot him again."
    "Did you charge my travel water-shears? The ones with the etched golden tank?" On the table was a screen sketch, various travel kits, some clothes, needles, sewers, and several hand tools. "Oh," I said remembering, "make sure to order more D45 for the WeavePlus."
    "I will."
    I knew what I was doing: I was delaying. I was making excuses. There was a part of me that didn't want to go, didn't want to leave my supplies, my projects, and my space. I had found equilibrium; I had found happiness. And I worried that traveling through my past would disturb the toxic dust I would find there. There were things I had laid to rest that should probably stay that way.
    I picked up the basketweave and sniffed it again. When Vada had appeared before the doors, it had been surprising and overwhelming. A part of me wished I hadn't agreed to make her a Xi jacket so quickly. Besides the fact that it was likely impossible, I owed her nothing. Years ago, I had become the tailor I was today and yet, here I was packing up for a trip for a woman I hadn't seen in a lifetime. And I knew I didn't still love her; I didn't still harbor those same feelings of worship and infatuation. At least that was what I wanted to believe.
    There was the detective that I'd told her about, but I had also hired a researcher and bribed two officials from an identity firm. The officials placed her in Bang as a girl. They said she was operated on at some saleswarrior clinic, but disappeared into the slubs of Europa11 before city satins could apprehend her. They figured she was long dead. The identity firm said she was wanted for the murder of a half-dozen CEOs. The detective implicated her in some stolen DNA plot five years ago, but then the trail died.
    I took another bite of my eel scone. I had known Vada in Seattlehama. I had watched from afar for almost a year before we met, and it was during that time that I lusted after her as one might a goddess. Later, when I lived with her-and maybe fell in love-I also came to understand (or maybe that understanding was much later) that she could never really love me back. Then again, my attraction to her had always been powered by her unattainable, mythic, and forbidden nature. It had been Zeno's paradox of the heart, I'm