"You came because of what I am."

She cocked her head and said, "Well, yes, that."

He began to tell her about his sense of direction. He spoke haltingly at first, and more confidently when she listened without questioning him. He tried to anticipate the questions she might want to ask. When had he first noticed this special talent? He couldn't remember; only that it had been this year, a few months ago, just a glimmering at first: for instance, he had liked to work in the compound's library because his desk there faced the same direction as the desk in his room, though there was no window to look through. In the dining room he always sat at the side of the table nearest the door, even when there was no one else present. He had moved his bed so that he could sleep more comfortably, aligned with—with, well, what?

But he couldn't say. Everywhere he went, always, when he stood still, there was a direction he preferred to face. This was not a compulsion, only a gentle urge, easily ignored. There was a good way to face, and a less good way to face.

"And are you facing the good way now?" Sulean asked.

In fact he was. He hadn't been aware of it before she asked, but he was comfortable on this rock looking away from the mountains into the lightless hinterland.

"West," Sulean said. "You like to face west."

"A little north of west."

There. The secret was out. There was nothing more to say, and he heard Sulean Moi adjust her posture in the silence, adapting to the pressure of the rock. He wondered if it was painful or uncomfortable to be so old and to sit on solid stone. If so, she gave no indication of it. She looked up at the sky.

"You were right about the falling stars," she said after a long time. "They're quite lovely."

The meteor shower had begun.

Isaac was fascinated by it. Dr. Dvali had told him about meteors, which were not really stars at all but burning fragments of rock or dust, the remains of ancient comets circling for millennia around the New World's sun. But that explanation had only added to Isaac's fascination. He sensed in these evanescent lights the enacting of ancient geometries, vectors set in motion long before the planet was formed (or before it had been constructed by the Hypotheticals), rhythms elaborated over a lifetime or several lifetimes or even the lifetime of a species. Sparks flew across the zenith, east to west, while Isaac listened inwardly to the murmurings of the night.

He was content that way, until Sulean suddenly stood and peered back toward the mountains and said,

"Look—what's that? It looks like something falling."