“I shudder to imagine an equal and opposite incursion – may causality forbid Commandant ever dispatch me to one of your viny-hivey elfworlds, profusely floral, all arcing elder trees, neural pollen, bees gathering memories from eyes and tongue, honey libraries dripping knowledge from the comb. I harbor no illusions I’d succeed. You would find me in an instant, crush me faster – I’d walk a swath of rot through your verdancy, no matter how light I tried to step. I have a Cherenkov-green thumb.”
