I started having the dream again at Chatwain.

In the dream, my mother comes into my bedroom to tell me goodnight before she and one of her husbands (who, this time? Bob? Adrian?) go off to their dance at the country club. I'm in my bed, wearing the flannel cowboy pajamas she bought for me every year until I was twelve. In my dream, my heart leaps up because this is her! This is the mother I remember. I see her gauzy dress, tight at the waist to show off her figure. I see her necklace of matched pearls with its sapphire pendant. I even smell her Italian Rose perfume. I want to hug her back, hold her forever.

But when she puts her hands to my cheeks, her skin is chill and slack. I try to pull away, screaming without sound like you do in dreams. She doesn't notice; it's like she's programmed not to. She bends close to kiss me, and her eyes are the faceted orange globes of sonar sensors.

The test of Ida's crew didn't show up for another two days. Chandra provided me with a large, clean workroom and offered his help with any supplies.

"This'll be great!" I told him. "Thanks! I was afraid Ida was going to be the only one pulling for me in this thing."

Chandra folded his arms and stepped back. "Why do you think no trainers or mahouts have been assigned to you, Dr. Goldman? They were told about your coming and all have threatened to run away. You have much to prove, much to overcome before you truly see anyone else here 'pulling for you.'" He spun on his heel and walked off. My ears burned for two hours after he left.

I spent the two days removing the bugs from Seventeen's motor sensors and programming her to respond to commands in Bhojpuri, the language these Nepalese mahouts used with their elephants.

I had just refilled the nutrient sack in Subject Seventeen's stomach through the valve in her side. I was walking her in rapid circles around the yard of the office complex so the fresh fluid would circulate more quickly through the tissues.

I heard faint shouts and the rumble of distant engines. From the direction of the far-off cloud-covered Himalayas approached a motley collection of jeeps, animals and people. As they drew closer, I saw the trainers running alongside their elephants while the mahouts sat astride1 the howdahs. The jeeps were laden with people, tracking equipment and other supplies.

I waited until all but a few had reached the yard and were staring at Subject Seventeen in consternation. The other elephants were a much lighter hue than her, making Seventeen appear almost black in comparison. Trying for a good first impression, I halted her jerky circling by using the new Nepali word. "Subject Seventeen," I said. "Roh!"

I should've signalled her to slow down first, because the command to stand still after building up so much momentum almost tipped her forward. But the now-enhanced motor routines cut in and kept her standing.

"Hoy, there," said one of the tanned figures on a jeep from behind its sunglasses. It took off its wide-brimmed straw hat to show a mass of curly auburn hair. "I'm Astrid. You the fellow from the Shankara Center?" Her smile was wide and genuine.

"Yes. Pleased to meet you. I'm Hank Goldman."

"We've been waiting for the circus," called someone else. "You going to do some tricks for us?" This was the challenge I'd expected.

"Why, sure." I patted my pockets and feigned embarrassment. "Oh no, forgot my juggling pins. Oh well. You'd rather see Subject Seventeen do tricks anyway, right?"

"Subject Seventeen?" said one of the nine piling off the vehicles. From their khakis and bluejeans they were obviously the researchers here--the mahouts and trainers all wore multi-colored lungis wrapped from waist to knee. The speaker was a swaggering American kid with black hair. "How about that?" he muttered to a companion. "Doesn't even give the thing a name."

"Oh, this creature has been given a name," said Dr. Chandra, appearing from somewhere. His white cotton turban was spotless. "Man Bahadur and the others have entitled her Shmashana-Kali." At this, the Nepalese inhaled together in a single hiss.

"Shana-Kali," one said.

"I don't think that name will be appropriate--" I began.

"I've told you all about the exciting work Hank is doing," Ida said, coming up behind Chandra. Her tone was very jolly. "We've needed another elephant for years now. This animal of Hank's may be the answer to our prayers."

"I'm still refining its programming," I said. "I was hoping to do some tests and measurements on your best-trained elephant so I can replicate motor responses to all the usual commands. Um, any suggestions on which one?"

The mahouts and trainers stood alongside their restless elephants a good two dozen yards away from Seventeen. One of the beasts raised its trunk and blared a call as if to challenge Subject Seventeen. In the awkward silence that followed, Astrid looked over from where she and the other researchers were running their hands across the skin of the reanimated elephant.

"Chanchal is our matriarch," she said. "The oldest and wisest elephant of them all. She is the best one for this honor, right, Gyan?" A mahout nodded with obvious reluctance, then put his thumbnail to his mouth and nipped at it furiously.

"Never thought I'd see a reviv'd elephant," mumbled the American so that I could hear him. "Whole damn idea gives me the creeps."