She was fatter now, almost a healthy weight, her hair dark at the roots like a fading dye job, but really thicker and healthier with the better diet. She hacked it all off and marched around the city like a punk rock black Maria, eyes still scooped out and hollow in their sockets. There was a street in the arts district that she kept going back to, where the buildings had turned away from the road and murals covered their broad concrete backs. In the middle of the block a fifteen foot tall Nebuchanezzar stared down at her, its eyes heavy-lidded and strange.
“Worship me,” it said. “Have I not been fair?” Two lamassi stood at his shoulders, their wings spread.
“What do I do, Lord?” said Colleen. “Do I pray?”
“Come with me, and I will show you my rites.” A lamassu stepped out of the mural and knelt before her. It had a back like a baby grand piano. Colleen perched between its double shoulders and wove her fingers into its hair. The Nebuchanezzar opened its mouth until she could see the furnace burning behind it, and the lamassu sprang forward.
The wall passed over her like a shadow.