Miranda stayed onstage for an extra hour and a half, playing a role in a 
samurai ractive fairly popular in Japan, in which she was a platinum blond 
missionary's daughter abducted from Nagasaki by ronin. All she had to do was 
squeal a lot and eventually be rescued by a good samurai. It was a pity she 
didn't speak Nipponese and (beyond that) wasn't familiar with the theatrical 
style of that nation, because supposedly they were doing some radical and 
interesting things with karamaku—" empty screen" or "empty 
act." Eight
years ago, she would have taken the one-hour airship ride to Nippon and learned 
the language. Four years ago, she at least would have been disgusted with 
herself for playing this stupid role. But tonight she spoke her lines on cue, 
squealed and wriggled at the right times, and took her money, along with a 
hefty tip and the inevitable mash note from the payer—a 
middle-management type in Osaka who wanted to get to know her better. Of 
course, the same technology that made it impossible for Miranda to find Nell, 
made it impossible for this creep to find Miranda.