Before meeting with her hosts, Greta wanted to see for herself how Antica had earned the EcoSmart award for the lowest per capita carbon emissions of any city in the U.S. As the young legislative aide stepped out of her car, she was disappointed by the ordinary, low-tech look of the place.

“Where are the solar panels,” she wondered. “Where are the hybrids?” Then, a two-wheeled vehicle darted from the side street shadows, . “Pedal power,” thought Greta, “green transportation!”

But, as the sun struck it, approval turned to shock. Pulling the thing along was a nude brunette harnessed like a horse, with the naked redhead holding her reins strapped down on the driver’s seat behind. Both were pinned to the obscene contraption by enormous dildos in their sex and butts. The redhead writhed as the knobbed shafts within her drove up and down with the turning of the axle. Seated comfortably behind them rode a well-dressed, nonchalant passenger.

Little fragments of consciousness began falling idiotically into place. The scarcity of cars. Shop names like “The Stable,” and “Pony Palace.” The quaint hitching posts spaced along the curb. And the license plate on the back of that vehicle... !

Stumbling further along, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Through the display window, she saw a mannequin, cuffed and harnessed rather like the girl she had just seen. The lettering on the window read Kareem’s Tack & Saddlery. The mannequin’s blond crest of hair twitched, and its eyes met hers.

Strangling a scream, Greta backed away, and started running back toward her car. Twenty feet from it, two tall, uniformed men stepped out in front of her. Before she could finish saying, “Officers, did you see…” one of them asked, “Is that your car, ma’am?”

Greta nodded.

“I’m afraid it’s in violation of our air quality standards,” said the other man. Both were dark-skinned, and spoke in an unfamiliar accent. “We’re writing you a ticket. You won’t be able to drive it, until you pay the carbon-offset fine. Please come with us.”

Snapping out of her daze, Greta shouted, “But it’s a PRIUS, dammit! “ She tried to push a hand off her shoulder. “One call to my boss, Senator Granville, and…” The cop spun her around, as the other handcuffed her wrists behind her.

A clattering sound began to penetrate the numb unreality of the last few minutes. Speechless, she watched one, then another, female-powered vehicle pass by in the street. Some stopped to unload chattering passengers, then moved on, to the tinkle of bells on swinging breasts and flashing ankles.

A big, black-windowed wagon pulled to the curb beside them, drawn by six muscular, matched blondes, in ornate harnesses, each branded on her butt with the Abid Enterprises logo. A familiar, deep voice boomed: “Officer, what is the trouble?”

“Mr. Khalaf!” Greta cried, “Thank god you’re…”

“She was driving an illegal vehicle, and resisting arrest,” stated the cop, flatly.

The man flashed an ID. “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

As they stepped into the wagon’s plush interior, Greta blurted, “Aren’t you going to have them remove the cuffs?”

“Environmental offenses are a serious matter, Ms. Orenson. We who have made a new life here fought long and hard in your Congress to gain the right practice our traditional laws without interference. A foreign female’s customary place in our homeland meshes nicely with our shared goal of saving the earth. You came to learn our ways, and now you will.”

Smiling, Khalaf lifted his phone. “Senator, your aide has arrived.”