The meat dish was way off the scale; pale blue muscle made me suspect some kind of haemocyanin blood in this. I asked what meat it was and was told it...was from a woolly, these should be related to humans, they are mammals (in our terms) so that blood theory was wrong as ‘humans’ here seemed to have similar haemoglobin type molecules for oxygen transfer. No, the meat, like the wool, was just a bluey shade; I found later it was due to their inability to digest the grexit-grass they fed on, one. . well, take a pass, that’s my suggestion.No, I changed my mind -- keep reading. I’ve now edited out 90% of the evil and left only an overview explanation of what Massimino was doing. That is disgusting enough, but at least you’re spared the gory details. Although in this age of terrorism videos, perhaps some of the shock has been lost in our public discourse.Phillip Massimino had discovered his technological talents could do more than define a business career. It could take him on journeys. I was worried that JC had back-slid into his old wastrel ways, but Anne seemed unconcerned so I kept my mouth firmly closed.We were all relaxing by our fire, me sawing on my fiddle, when JC rode back into camp. Anne shot me a look when her husband showed up as if to say she never doubted he'd be with her at bedtime. JC unsaddled his mount, put away his tack and sauntered over to the fire. He grinned at my inquisitive and slightly censorious look, then pulled Anne to her feet and kissed her. He smiled at her little performance and took the keys from her to open the door. She curled into him like a helpless kitten with her hands on his chest. He took her hand, feeling better and bolder and was about to lead her upstairs when she started leading him downstairs instead.She was looking around to see if anyone noticed.They were in a basement with a low ceiling and a few washing machines.She pulled him further in.“Still mad at me?” she asked in a pipsqueak voice, tugging on her T-shirt,.