For a while, he simply enjoyed the sensation of flying, and when he shifted, the side of the pod brightened to display the view below, as if it sensed his desire to see. Tiralan was a striking world—he might even use the word beautiful if he was sure of its application—with fields of flowers and bright swaths of color from the elegant buildings that dotted the landscape. On Tiralan, there was no urban sprawl like on Barath. Instead, the settlements were more spread out, integrated without overwhelming the natural world.

Soon, the pod set down outside an ivory dome with narrow windows cut with razor-sharp precision, glimmering with slivers of light. “This is the Museum of Modern Art.”

Qalu alighted with fluid grace and turned to offer Helix aid in doing the same. But she didn’t touch him, didn’t grasp or pull, simply waited, allowing him to make the decision. He took a breath and let his mind settle, then he put his forelimb in hers, waiting for that unpleasant shock. There was a touch of strangeness, but not like before. Perhaps it came from making the decision himself or from mental readiness. As soon as he had his balance, she let go.

A frisson spiraled through him, but he lacked the experience to identify the emotion, though it was bright and sharp–all edges and slicing angles. “I’m looking forward to this,” he said, setting aside his unfamiliar feelings.

“To seeing the art or simply being out of the habitat?”

Helix hesitated, wondering if it would be offensive to say it was both. He was unaccustomed to being so limited, so chained in his perceptions. Though this new form had interesting features, it also lacked many of his former capabilities. His ambivalence must have shown because Qalu made an amused noise.

“You’re allowed to enjoy being out,” she added.

“I don’t wish to seem ungrateful.”

“No fear of that. I don’t expect gratitude from you. Or anything else for that matter. Whatever you feel, whenever you feel it, that’s acceptable and valid. If you were angry with me, I would understand that as well.”

In truth, he had been at first. He held quiet as she led the way, tapping her wrist unit against a screen near the entrance. “Was that currency?”

“No, we have a robust arts program on Tiralan, and all citizens receive free access to admire our greatest collective works. This is a membership program that tracks how often you use such facilities.”

“For what purpose?”

Interestingly enough, from the flutter of her head tendrils, Qalu didn’t seem certain. “Perhaps to gauge the popularity? If modern art attracts more attention than classical works?”

“An intriguing theory. I would be interested in seeing the comparative data.”

“I’m not sure it’s disbursed,” Qalu said.

“That is disappointing. More information is always preferable.”