Chapter 8: Be It Ever So Humble

Katie, Lok, and Cave-Katie tread over a gravelly alluvium tract between two tors. In the gloaming, the earth and sky are equally grayish, and the air has a gritty appearance before everyone's eyes. The three proceed quietly, and Dr. Butler does not mind that approach. Although Dr. Kate anxiously anticipates hearing her quaint counterpart's escape story. However, the professor is not half as anxious as she is going to be if they encounter certain residents of this savage land. You see, many cold-blooded hunters awaken at eve, although some dinosaurs are actually warm-blooded. And, other large predators like to hunt then too. Biologist Katie does not mind seeing some bioluminescent insects flitting about, but she does not want to encounter glowing eyes anywhere as something sizes and then seizes a meal. Neebra and friends can stay far off, not nearby.

Gravel grates beneath their gaits as they approach the gateway out of a crevasse. Tall green grass gyrates in a breezy glen, and Katie gladly sees the life standing within it. Glump has grown over the decades. He must be thrice his previous height as he peacefully grazes on plants. Herbivores are always welcome in the Valley of the Dinosaurs. One need worry about them less than omnivores and meat-eaters. Upon Glump's back, a howdah sits to hold a group of passengers and supplies. How da people get up is up to dem. Great Glump grunts gregariously when the three trekkers arrive.

Cave-Katie giggles. She shares, "I built that big saddle on our beast of burden. Lok's people sort of do and don't have the saddle, much as neighboring Tamurs do [E16]. So, I decided 'once a Butler, always a Butler' and saved the brutes' bacon once again."

Lok laughs a little, "Kidding Katie calls us 'brutes'. That is both rude—and funny."

Within, current Katie observes that '90s political correctness has not yet reached the Valley, and the collegian is not sure if that is a good or bad thing. A thoughtful person will just have remain conflicted over time.

"Get up," Cave-Katie guides Katie toward Glump. Then, the fur-gowned gal giggles some more.

"What's so funny, girlfriend?" curious Kate inquires.

"Gee!" Cave-Katie ejaculates, "I have a queer guess about you! You could be a chameleon!"

"Okay? I'll bite," Kate chuckles.

Giddy Cave-Kate crows, "We have humanoid lizard-people in the Valley. Some of them can change color, but none of them can shapeshift. So, that is how I am kidding, Kate."

"Of course," Kate comes back kindly, "I encountered a scaly, scary humanoid on the way here. It kept ambushing people, so they all can be a sly stock."

Glump galumphs toward Gorak and Gara's old place and Kate's old stomping-grounds. The howdah swings slightly side-to-side, and the sizable saddle squeaks softly. Sitting within, Katie savors the Valley's strange sights and sounds from safety. Any standard biologist would appreciate the extraordinary experience. And, like any youth in her thirties, Katie cannot but treasure now a place that she so desperately wanted to escape a score back.

For one thing, Lok makes her feel safe. And, she has always missed him since parting. She has missed the Lok in her mind, at least. Whether in Minnesota or Manhattan, there just are no Loks to be had in the 1990s. Seemingly, there are no men to be had—whether cavemen, cowboys, or comic-book supermen. They are especially extinct on college campuses, and, when they are discovered, they are arduously civilized (and pseudo-neutered).

To some extent, Katie knows that the modern American evolution is a good thing. Even today, in this brief time, Lok has proven to be a brute, a bully, and a pig. Just examine his approach with "Cave-Katie", or whatever Katie should call her. And, the modern intellectual hates such Neanderthals. She has avoided them in her time.

Still, Lok is Katie's first love for many reasons. He is as capable as she or her father. He is as adventurous. He is her knight in shining armor, even though discourse says she doesn't need one. Again and again, he was her savior when she found trouble years ago. If that doesn't make him her other half, what does? Looking at those episodes, he was also chivalrous and kept everything PG-rated, as though a quintessential—or primal—gentleman. Lok's simple perspective and mind challenge what Kate considers her so sophisticated one. And, in that sophisticated mind, Ms. Butler imagines that Lok is her object to evolve, change, and control, as is an empowered woman's right. Or maybe, she is his as she surveys his musculature and sniffs his musk—here in the Valley of the Dinosaurs. In the driver's seat, Lok sways steadily in the early eve's shining moonlight.

Across the carriage, Cave-Katie coughs. Katie considers her conduct. "Hmmm" hums the other her as though she knows what Katie is thinking—and doing. Katie glances sideways at Cave-Katie to see Cave-Katie likewise looking sideways at Lok. Then, the Katies looks lock. Above furry bodice, thick brows rise. Behind blushing face, Katie feels leery. Then, she doesn't, for Lok is her dream. With sassy neck, Prof. Butler flicks her locks at her bumpkin twin. Biology demands displays of dominance. But then, Katie realizes that her peculiar competition has longer hair than her. Cave-Katie simply flips fuller tresses over her shoulder and begins sensually combing them with her fingers.

Dr. Kate Butler will not be so corrected. She questions, "So, do you two have children? I have always wanted some. If daughters, I would name them Kelly and Kourtney."

"Or, Kurtisia and Kyrie," Cave-Katie complements.

Considering, Lok rubs his beard, "You know, the Great Stork has never delivered any infants to us."

Likewise, Lok's wife scratches her chin, "You know, I have never found any under a wild cabbage leaf either. How odd."

The driver deliberates, "However, time does occasionally seem to cut away, and, when it returns, people are parents."

"Yes!" his honey yawps, "I have seen that happen."

Dr. Katie feels a crumb confused. She admits, "You know, I am a biologist, yet I am unsure how reproduction works. And, that is awfully odd."

And so things work for those drawn by the Valley of the Dinosaurs!

The trio turn a corner and arrive at their destination. In the near distance, a bonfire burns with a spitted brisket above it that a big cook turns, her bearskin covering her bare skin. Beyond her, a bunch of people consume from a communal bowl. If Katie remembers right, the bowl could contain rice, or it could hold whatever wild greens gathered today.

Glump halts a measure from the diners, and his riders hoof it over to the assembled eaters. In a ring, a group gabs in the fire's glimmer. Some are gleeful youth. Some are gray-haired elders. Amongst those, Katie perceives chief Toland (E9), hunter Hensa (E15), warrior Jaboc (E4), sage Coco (E12), and tribesman Zmed (E5). However, beside Coco, Katie discerns a certain dear duo, and her heart leaps. On the ground, Gorak and Gara share grapes and gaze into the fire. Gorak's wrinkly, spotted skin has seen some seasons, and Gara's hair has become thinner. But, Dr. Butler delightfully recognizes her cherished chums, though changed. Accurately, one could call them second parents, at one time.

Of course, they are father-in-law and mother-in-law, or the equivalent, to the Katie who initially approaches this evening. The other Katie trails. Gorak grins and greets his dear one. Gara grabs a gourd of water and offers it. Fixing her fur frock, Cave-Katie settles by her kin as her twin circles 'round for a reunion. The familiar one informs the two elders of something. Their faces indicate that they cannot possibly understand what she means. Katie conveys a most curious statement.

Then, a surprising sight pads past Coco, and a doppelganger casually drops beside disquieted Gara and Gorak, mouths agape.

"Are you a vision of days gone past?" Gara gleans the "ghost" for empirical assessment.

"Aren't we all," clever Katie quips, although she confuses her companions further.

Grizzled Gorak hugs his woman tight, "John Butler brought many wonders to this valley. His magic science made many impossible things possible. Are you another marvel from him?"

"I suppose you could say that," the daughter defers.

"What sort of miracle are you?" Gorak asks.

"The kind that miraculously escaped this valley twenty years back," Katie claims.

"Of course, I could claim the same," Cave-Katie converses, "Except to the extent that I can't"

"Okay?" Butler is a bit baffled, "Could you explain your claim? I aim to frame our strange sameness, after hearing your story."

"We are on the same page," the counterpart confirms, "I too would like to tame how a dame has my same name—and looks."

"I'm game," Katie comments to herself and the hunters.

Sans shame, Chief Toland laughs at the lame pun.

"Excuse me, but I am confused," Gara goes, "Perhaps, fully narrating a story will fix that, as it often does."

Quickly, Cave-Katie sits cross-legged kitty-corner to Katie. The cook brings the sizzling, crisp carne for eager consumption. Tribesfolk cut it and share it with company.

Cave-Katie communicates, "My tale takes place just after we overcame Camloc and his Tamurs [E16}. The Butlers and the Gorak gang sat about a blaze such as this one. Hours before, we had finished the Feast of Plenty, and the fecundity of food kept us awake into the night. Perhaps, it was excess sugar. Perhaps, it was something other that forestalled sleep and fomented our further fun."

The fire flickers fantastically. Eyes fix on it, and it frames itself in onlookers' minds. The smoke rises on long ago. . . . .

Blue eyes follow red embers and white ashes on the darkness' breeze. Gorak blinks, belches, and brushes back his bushy brown hair. He heartily laughs as Lok defends his seared lizard and lettuce salad from Glump on his right and Digger on his left. At father's feet, Tana takes some time to quietly draw in the dirt. Normally, Greg and she are getting into all sorts of trouble. Over yon, Gara's pretty blonde hair shines like gold in the dancing firelight, and Kim helps clean after the big banquet. The two matriarchs chat. Beyond the beauties, drums bang and boom as a group hardily dances with Katie and her kid brother in its midst. Before Gorak, John Butler stands sipping some "soda" that he made. John sings something about wanting to buy the world a soda, and he offers the fizzing coconut shell. But, Gorak does not get the Coke joke.

John sets the elixir aside, "Say, do you remember when Lok, you, and I rescued the others from the flooded Valley of the Three Giants [E3]?"

"Yes," Gorak replies, "We turned a giant turtle shell over and swam safely beneath it."

"That's right," Butler explains, "We made what's called a diving bell from that Stupendemys exterior."

Not stupid, the simple caveman expounds, "Yes, a diving bell traps air beneath it. Thus, three men can breathe underwater. Large stones act as ballast to keep the craft submerged. A person will also want to attach, to the bell, a huge animal skin filled with auxiliary air and, to his feet, flippers made with palm fronds. Before launch, someone can scour the shell's bow and aft with sand; that provides primitive windows for navigation."

Mr. Butler, educator, blinks a few times, "Wow, you certainly remember my tuition well."

"I am not some Jebo monkey-man [E5], John," Gorak states, "I do not have your knowledge from outside of the Valley. But, when you speak, I listen and remember. Actually, all we 'primitives', your word, remember very well what is said because we don't have what you call 'writing'. Please remember that."

The 'advanced' outsider does not say a word (or write one). He is momentarily mum. Fortunately, Katie interrupts the (awkward) interlude.

Her bare feet soft-shoe over, and she steals her sire's soda. After sneaking a slurp, Katie cantors, "I'd like to buy the world a soda and teach it to sing in perfect harmony."

But, the joke falls flat. The caveman replies, "Hmph, I better not crack a smile. Or, my whole face will crack. Because, I'm so stone-faced."

The girl gets Gorak's grumpy gist. Katie sits down at her father's right hand. She lets the men talk.

John expresses, "As you know, Gorak, we Butlers desire to depart the Valley of the Dinosaurs at some point. I think that I have found a point on the map, and I need only pick a point in time to go."

"I am listening," says the collegial ally, "And, my family is willing to help."

"You always have been willing to help, my friend. Ever since we arrived in the Black Lagoon, you have been beneficent," John praises.

"I try to be a noble savage," states Gorak.

"And, you are," announces Butler, "In fact, if you would amiably aid us one more time, we could together return to the Black Lagoon. There, the Butlers could possibly depart."

"Oh? Despite the pain in your heart," utters the other. Gorak knows that the lagoon is dangerous and that sensible men do not dare fate in its fathoms.

The outsider leans forward, "I need another Stupendemys shell. I have considered other options, but they won't expedite our escape. Neither Tridacna, a colossal clam, nor Archelon, a bigger chelonian beast than even Stupendemys, have a shell from which one can scour a thin, waterproof window. No other animals—from nautilus to Neebra—fit the bill either."

"Oh."

"I am amazed that my plan has not occurred to me before," the genius expounds, "The Butlers were propelled through an underground cavern to get here, the Valley of the Dinosaurs. Well, why wouldn't a reasonable person wend a sub, which he has already kitbashed once, back through that subterranean passage? We all already know that the Black Lagoon is not that deep. Katie once swam to the bottom of it to fetch stuff from our sunken raft [E10]."

"There are thick weeds down there. One wrapped my ankle, and Lok had to free me before I drowned. Now, that's what I call women's liberation!" Katie cuts-in.

Gorak advances Katie's comment, "The Black Lagoon also has awful animals. Such as parasitic worms, long lampreys, and awesome octopi, oh my. And sometimes, when the cicadas sing, a terrible creature arises from the murk and ambles the earth. He is half-alligator gar and half-ape. This gill-man gores the men and grabs the women. He. . . . ."

"Wait, a gill-man from the Black Lagoon?" John interjects, "That's a silly coincidence. Just because two bodies have the name 'Black Lagoon' does not coherently connect them."

"Believe what you wish. But, when the wood star crosses the ringed one. . . . ." Gorak points to the sky.

"Yes," John yawns, "Jupiter, the wood star, occults Saturn about every twenty years when they are aligned. This is called a 'great conjunction'. What's its function? Certainly nothing respected scientists acknowledge. Besides, Earth is not due one until 1981, seven years from now."

"Although," Katie contemplates within, "time seems to pass differently in this dinosaur dale." She also considers how Jupiter aligning with a planet and a gill-man could generate an Age of Aquarius joke, but she cannot readily think of anything.

Ever good-natured, Gorak shows a good heart. "Good luck, John. And, I will help you," simply states the supportive stoic, "May the lakebed that God gives you be as steady as the straw bed that I have provided you."

Something occurs to science teacher Butler. The Valley has much volcanic activity. It has affected past escape attempts. An upheaval occurs, and the landscape changes. Magma consumes hillsides. Quakes collapse caves. Canyon walls crumble. Useful corridors cease to be.

Mr. Butler hopes that the Black Lagoon egress is as open as ever. He is not too concerned. He cannot be too concerned. Nothing is greater than science. (Except everything that science merely studies. But, Gorak the brute knows that, and John the Butler perhaps doesn't).

A week passes.

The Butlers powerfully paddle their diving bell below the Black Lagoon's surface. They puff and perspire with profuse effort. However, auspiciously, they lie in algid water up to their shoulders. It cools them. It keeps them from cardiac arrest as they approach their theoretical exit. The family is excited and determined to finish their foray in the Valley of the Dinosaurs.

At this depth, there is simply little light. The Butlers' orange raft may be where the sun can still reach it. However, the desired cavern mouth is down a steep slope, and that means dipping drastically for the destination. Descending, the water is dark and cold, and the pressure increases with each strenuous stroke.

Greg gasps, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

The kid inhales hard. He hasn't the breath to keep pestering his parents.

The daughter does though. Katie croaks, "Thanks for keeping it light, brother, even in this depth's dark."

Kim scolds, "Save your oxygen, you two."

Katie never can stop chattering, "Hey, not to carp. But, how are we going to cover the cavern length when we aren't actually Cyprinus carpio?" (Cyprinus carpio constitutes the common carp).

"You're killing me," John kibitzes, "Why don't you play 'coy'—like a fish?"

"Cut it out!" Kim declaims.

In Ma Butler's conscience, now is no time for levity. The clan's prolonged crisis could end. They need to concentrate and calmly stay the course. They can do that without frivolous comedy. Kim "always" stays calm. Her family can too.

Concerned Mom declaims further, "Cap. Butler, how are you going to properly pilot us to safety? We cannot see anything at this depth. There could be a Plesiosaur peering at us and we wouldn't see it."

Put-off, the man's man manages, "Okay dear, I shall take a look."

The fellow pushes off the solid interior and out the diving bell's open bottom. The dark, dangerous, cold waters are welcome. He has at least gotten away from the wife. Ho-ho.

However, Kim comes with him. He discerns her khakis abruptly descend into the black deep. Distended brown locks and wide eyes look him in the face above their puffed cheeks. John cracks a smile. Apparently, Kim the kelpie conspires to supervise. The retired Navy diver can handle the immense pain in his ears, but his wife is sometimes kind of a pain in the. . . . .

Straight away, Katie precociously pops down before her pater. Daddy can never accuse his girl of being overly cautious or cowardly. The Valley has proven her mettle perpetually. Although, on this day 1974, John Butler has mixed feelings about Kim and Katie's courage. He just wants them to be safe.

Overhead, Greg and Digger's grubby little paws dog-paddle in place. Good. At least they have got it, in John's mind. They let Dad do his job.

Everyone's air limited, the clan leader whirls around and lights-up the place. To Kim and Katie's amazement, John generates a flare that both ignites and illuminates underwater. Like the ultimate handy-man, the family head stored something special in a hollowed horn. Incredibly, his flint makes fire while submerged in water. Kim guesses that her husband found some phosphorus somewhere on the surface. Lok did once lead him to some limestone. In a wide sweep, John shines the torch. The intrepid trio see. They are at the cave entrance, and possible escape stands before them.

Startling Greg and Digger, the divers surface in the snug submarine. Katie spits water. Kim sucks precious air. John rhythmically respires, red-faced. All pant almost like Digger.

Catching her breath first, Katie declares, "Crazy baby! I've seen that exact topography before."

Kim corroborates, "Yes, it copies the Three Giants completely—except the sierra is inverted. And, those stalactites are smaller than mountains, obviously. Otherwise, they are mirror images like the land literally reflected in the lagoon."

John contends, "Check your cartography. Those calcified columns resemble the canyon a hundred klicks away that I spotted from that glider. Astoundingly, all three escape routes—the Three Giants, the Black Lagoon, the distant canyon—duplicate each other."

"What are the odds?" Kim confesses, although she adjures John "hon, don't compute that".

The family goes quiet. Then, they curtly confer. There is nothing to do but crawl forward. So, they do.

Mysteriously, Digger simply disappears from under the submarine's dome. And, nothing nefarious drags him out either. The constant cur just quits the party into caliginous space. Click the carpels. He reappears at some delightful destination. His owners are too occupied to astutely notice the absence.

The Butler crew cruises twixt the cave mouth's teeth, and the deep seemingly becomes more concentrated. It seems denser and heavier on their heavy limbs. Their collective effort increases. Lips curled, the company kicks and propels in unity. Collaboratively, they cause their craft to advance inch-by-inch. However, their constrained clip causes them considerable curiosity. How could this exercise be such a cursed contest?

Suddenly, the Butlers stop all together. Some formidable force has captured them cold. Quickly, their captain considers details and context. Quite the same, Kim cogitates concernedly too. Incorrigible, Katie and Greg keep their composure, having coped with a cavalcade of constant crises for a calendar recently. Besides, in their callow minds, they can't fail now. It would not be fair. Just consider their adventures. The young Butlers lead charmed lives.

But, no one completely combats the cosmos. Some essential force commands the escaping Butlers' concession, and they can only comply. Like a rip current, an invisible pull retracts the ridiculous turtle sub tub. Like a cord, it concurrently contracts on all occupants' innards and clinches their muscles as to concrete. Uncaringly, it curves their spines and curls their bodies as though to create crumpled paper. The uncomfortable captives can neither converse nor keen. But, the Butlers can see and hear. The hull is creaking and cracking! Suddenly, the carapace crunches inward and catastrophically collapses!

Chaos ensues before Katie's eyes. Impossibly, the solid sub wreckage implodes to a tiny point, instantly unapparent in the inky depths. The water commences swirling like the maelstrom that took the Butlers in the first place. Its circling coils kidnap Greg and cruelly carry him into obscurity. Katie cries out and reaches for him, but her brother is cast into coal-black murk. The whirling current captures Katie, carries her off, and encloses her in crazy circumvolution. The eddy corkscrews her around and around, corrupting her perspective. Incoherently, the ingenue descries her coupled parents keeping ahold of each other. The clipping cyclone has them too. Increasing, the curving currents crank all Butlers into a blur. Almost cartoonishly, cherished characters look like stretched caramel or cotton in stirred coffee.

Then, the clock freezes, and the whirlpool just halts. Then, the construct craters inconceivable fathoms into the Earth's crust! The cascade conducts Katie's parents into. . . . . A different climate? Confused Katie catches only a glimpse. But, at the cataract's bottom, there is, fleetingly, bright light and. . . . . A checkered cab on Brooklyn's Court Street? The car collects her parents and carries them to safety in Cobble Hill, their community.

In contrast, the crumbling crush of water carries kid Katie into oblivion. Her consciousness clicks out a moment, like on an old console TV set.

When light brown eyes activate again, Katie feels crud on her back and scopes sunlight through algae scum above her. She's underwater still! Not a carcass, she curls at the waist and sits up from the swampy shallows. Discombobulated, Katie scans her scene. Cattails wave on a crisp breeze over the cool waters, and Katara the Iguanodon canters past in the vicinity. In the distance, clouds climb over crags, and Pteranodon silhouettes contrast on the white. Katie is neither at the underwater cavern nor in Kansas anymore. In fact, she can tell that her surroundings are not even the Black Lagoon. This is the Great Swamp that she visited occasionally. And, she cannot imagine how she came here.

Katie erects herself. From a tree, a constrictor watches her. Quasi-unclad, she clumsily slogs ashore. Combing fingers find that she now has a thick crop of long hair to her curves. Katie gets a kick out of circumstances. She must now resemble a hippie chick. Her reflection could even pass for college age.

For sure. What the 'heck' just happened?

Stoically, unkempt Katie treks toward Gorak's clan and cave, confident that she knows the country. The enclave should have some kind of clothing plus a cup of coffee and some chow. The cave people will be surprised to see her, having thought her gone.

Chewing some quackgrass, Katie considers her missing kin and hopes that they are safe. They could be. Just now, Katie experienced something incredible. Somehow, she must communicate with Mom and Dad—whether they be over the next knoll or 3400 miles away. The whole family can commiserate over another clever escape plan gone kaput. Optimistically, Katie cups her hands and calls loudly along the esker ahead, but only echoes barely call back. So, Katie quits the commotion. There are hungry creatures around, and the exposed lass does not want to attract attention.

Calm, cool, collected Katie continues along the berm above the bank of the river that runs to the Great Swamp. She knows that a welcome campo plain lies just over the next kame or cuesta. Beyond that comes a familiar highland with a cozy cave and good company. So, a gal need only carry-on casually.

Skipping along, Katie kicks coarse compost back behind her carefree bare feet. Konga, the t-rex, consumes a kill a couple kilometers away, and crimson crabs climb all over carrion in a side creek. In her head, the happy camper cases heavier concepts. She could be stuck here. If so, icon Dale Carnegie would query but one thing. How can she stop worrying and start living—in the Cretaceous Period if need be?

Like a competent clinician, Katie contemplates current conditions. The cagey gal accounts for key components, and she quantifies her prospects. Frankly, the crux is that a cutie could be marooned, and she may have to commit to that occasion. Canvassing the horizon, a conscious (albeit inexperienced) mind conjectures about coming days.

If those days be in her home country, Katie knows the conceit in these fine 1970s. Most likely, she can soon be a coveted co-ed on a college campus. Come soon, she will conjugate with some fine man, and they will consummate their committed connection by having children—for whom she constantly cares. Most likely, Katie will clothe herself in a dress and cordially serve kringle at coffee klatches. If she does have a career, and occasionally escapes the cloister, she will confront a certain ceiling and many an old boys' club. In "her" country, a woman can claw and climbs all that she wants, but she will be doubtless cloutless before the mountain of the Man's conventions. Clearly, her husband and boss (another man) will have a kept woman.

With their feet of clay, the unfair sex consistently and comprehensively corrupt and coerce this world. Men curdle nature. They commit endless wars. They unconscionably cannibalize the tribe of man.

If Katie goes home, she gets to compromise like her mother Kim has compromised (to coexist with her father). And, that committing to the keeping the peace might get Katie ultimately committed—to an asylum. Her core can't see it.

Cresting an outcrop, Katie comes to a clough. She canvasses her natural form from calves to collarbone. In her chest, there sits a heart, a soul, and a being. Ms. Butler inhales the Valley's clean atmosphere with blooming crocus upon it. This connate locale calls. Here, Katie is free and clear of a certain life. Exhaling, Katie concludes she would rather croon in Eden than cry in the "advanced" world. She chooses.

Cave-Katie climbs down the incline to a copious land, prodigious with possibility. The uncouth youth condemns consequences, decorum, and convention. As the counterculture contends like a chorus, you got to be free, and unconstrained Katie makes for her commune of unconquered, crude people still congenial with Mother Nature. The nascent biologist, nature girl, knows that she will never have something like the Valley again. Extinct dinosaurs, ancient mammals, and early humans coincide in one lush location. Life is completely uncurbed here. This is a coup. Katie will quicken continually in this coming conquest of self and the world. She doesn't even realize that she's naked. She careens ahead like a wild cat. That charge into the future happened twenty years ago.

In the present, Cave-Katie clucks her tongue consecutively after completing her tale. She cannot speak further without conveying further what was and what could have been. Likewise, Dr. Kate Butler is quiet and contemplative. The contemporary woman comprehends that her other chose the highlight of her life. Who this her is, she does not know.