Da'an studies Sandoval. The muted tones of the laboratory seem to mirror the sober, brooding implant. "Is all in readiness, Agent Sandoval?"

"Yes, Da'an. However, I feel I must voice my concerns about this venture, once more. Your connection to the Commonality could be compromised. Since we still don't have a clear understanding of how it was restored the last time, we couldn't guarantee your recovery."

"I respect your feelings on this matter, but I must assume this role. Human children are almost a species unto themselves; they respond to different diplomatic protocols. Is there not precedent for my endeavor in your literature? Shakespeare's Henry V is the story of a leader who disguises himself to better comprehend the beings among whom he lives."

"True," confirms Sandoval, "but Shakespeare's Henry was a fictionalized creation. More importantly, he was a fictionalized creation who could duck when necessary."

"As to your latter objection, Agent Sandoval, fear for the little ones, as well. The volunteers I assigned to sift through the Halloween treats found shards of glass and metal in several packages. We must be vigilant if we are to provide a safe context in which the children may celebrate this holiday. As to your former objection, Taelons do not entertain this concept of fictional. You see fiction as a representation of reality. Taelons see fiction as something ever evolving, ever becoming, like the universe, for language and universe are one."

Da'an is unsure whether hope or despair flickers across Sandoval's face. "In other words, lies become truths."

"No," cautions Da'an, sensing the precipice upon which the implant teeters. "Lies never become truths. Lies become reality. There is a difference, Agent Sandoval."

"What is the difference, Da'an?"

Wistfully, Da'an replies, "Isolation."

Through the link they share, Boone and Lili note Da'an's remark. "He's being rather blunt, today," comments Lili.

"For a Taelon," answers Boone. "What about this?" Boone holds out the traditional doublet and hoes ensemble for Lili's inspection.

"No, it doesn't suit you, Boone. Wait, how about this for you and this for me?"

"Perfect," Boone exclaims, "but you'll have to bring your personal side arm for the occasion. A Taelon weapon would completely shatter a champagne bottle." Boone half smiles.

External measures of time mark the passing of eight days. On Halloween, various elementary school children and their chaperones are escorted to an alien by John Steed, Emma Peel, and a leprechaun. The alien receives each young one with a blush and a hug. Liam remarks inwardly to three who listen, "I was worried someone would notice that Da'an is Memorex, but so far, so good. Augur would give three million for this tactile holography."

"Not if he could swing a knock-off system on the street he wouldn't," laughs Boone. He'd need all the money he could spare if he wanted to buy Lili's copyright."

"He'd be buying a casket first," assures Lili. "Where did you hear about Memorex, Liam?"

"I saw a retromercial for it the other day."

Boone interrupts, "Heads up, guys. Henry is now Henrietta."

Da'an weaves his way through the crowd. His consciousness is encased in a female biosurrogate who is further disguised as the Tetrad's subjective interpretation of a Jha'du'ur. Long, dark hair and etherial, green eyes are reflected within the myriad of Austrian crystals that drip from the amythest gown and body-length wings.

Several moments after he adjusts to walking in satin heels, a little girl in a Taelon costume sees past the Companion's new clothes. "Hi, Da'an. You're a pretty butterfly."

"Thank you, little one. In actuality, I am a faerie lady. How do you recognize me?"

"Because," she responds, "you look like Da'an, and you wiggle your fingers like a Taelon does."

Da'an studies his borrowed hands, touching one to his borrowed face. The girl observes, "Your antennas look like the walls."

"Yes, that is because they are constructed of the same substance. Would you like to examine them more closely?"

"For reals? Thanks." Her brown eyes widen with wonder. "They feel dry, but they look like they're wet." She fidgets suddenly with her latex bald cap.

"What is wrong?"

"Mommy didn't put the bobby pins in tight, so my hair is falling down."

Da'an removes the cap, gracefully repinning her long, brown hair. "What do you say, Ariel?" A blonde woman with a pink presence has come up behind them.

"Thank you, Da...."

"Henrietta," corrects Da'an, "but you may call me Hal. That is easier."

"Thank you, Hal. My name is Ariel. Sometimes I pretend I'm an Indian princess named Summer-Fall-Winter-Spring. It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise, Ariel." As Da'an watches the chestnut child follow the blonde woman to the pumpkin carving area, he notes his protectors calling him back to judge the best costume.