A young acolyte leaned over the edge of a sleep pond, "I am sorry, Your Holiness?"
The Vicate untangled himself from the young breeders in his sleep pond. "What is it, my child?"
"May I show thee what is on the viddies, Sir?" He clicked the screen to number zeven.
The Papel Vicate watched spellbound as the “Last Song” ceremonies outside of the mine were replayed on the viddies. "Oh, by the Master’s beard! What exzellent ceremonies! Those poor dead peepo! Pleeze wake the Viceroy. He must see this Sheppard at our work."
“As You wish, Holiness.”
A young female swam over into a tangle of reeds. The Viceroy swam over from his side of the pond, wiggled himself down into the warm mud and watched the screen. "How moving. This Father is good for a Hooman."