Zil visits. She seems to have a clearance code.

In our earthly life, here in Bugsplat, and before, on that mighty river, or on the mountain; in these places we have lived, living 'a social life' has always been work to us. The ideas that so many people express of say - visiting a friend for a cup of tea (*giggles at the absurdity* "to cheer oneself up!!") or 'talking it over with a friend' remind us of our difference.

When we are weak, we avoid people, because people require strength. Part of it is the chore of passing ourselves off as one person rather than the raucous, identity-fluid band we are. Part of it is the chore of policing our current diplomatic policies. Every person we know has a policy. We write them in seconds. They are under constant review. These policies do not recognise any perceived entitlement from the person under review. The formation of these policies is fundamentally a kind of risk algebra. Just as we do not verbalise the algebra of bellydance or kicking a can or sitting in a chair we do not verbalise the algebra of our social diplomacy. We may merely observe it and try to understand its logic. In that sense, it is 'the machine'. We notice that in large groups we may quickly hit the lowest common denominator (smile and nod) of diplomacy but the machine is not predictable.

Zil, a bellydance student of Calypso, seems to have some kind of clearance with the machine that very few people ever have. It is strange how little work it is to talk with her.