Had Cicero been possessed? Had she been inhabited? Was she being ventriloquised by alien forces? Had Cicero been Alan-ized? Had she been replaced? Bodysnatched! Was this a Cicero doppelganger, sitting in her office? A synth, in the form of Cicero? A replicant?
Cicero’s pact with Alan. Cicero’s selling her soul to Alan. To the Alan-Mephistopheles.
Somehow, we’d entered the Alan world. Somehow, we’d crossed an invisible border into the kingdom of Alan. Into Alan’s domain. Where the Alans of the world rule. Where Alan and his ilk are in charge.
The Alan era had opened. The Alan epoch!
Had Cicero been Alan’d? Alan-dized? Alan-dated?
We didn’t get an attack Alan sign. An open season on Alan sign.
Cicero didn’t signal us to let slip the dogs of war.
Cicero didn’t give us an Alan warning. An Alan alert. Cicero didn’t warn us about the Alan trap. The Alan danger.
She didn’t warn us about the Alan-ness of Al. His essential Alan-hood. His Alan-icity and Alan-itude. She’d said nothing about the essence of Alan.
Henceforward we were to exist Alanishly
Work in Progress 