There it was. Then this had to be the right place, Ma-ah thought. But she’d left her body on—

“Window! Window!” Proteus cried.

Window had been working nearby. Hearing Proteus’ call, he came running over.

“Something’s happened. I don’t know what … I don’t know if I can separate myself from what I’m getting—”

Window squatted down, and nodded, but he was alarmed. Proteus’ eyes had an uncharacteristic expression, as if they were reflecting another personality entirely. “Proteus—”

“Listen,” Proteus said. “I’m trying to do something … but it’s so hard … listen, and see if I can do it.” He paused long enough for Window to become even more alarmed, then said: “Tellers is another name for the Speakers. This was their … settlement. This place is inside in a funny way … I don’t understand…. There’s an inside way to get here, besides the way I came … not a physical way but a real way—Oh, I don’t know if I can keep this up…. The tile was signed in the distant past…. No, it was three days ago,” Proteus said, in a quite different, feminine voice. Window bent closer. “Proteus?” he asked.

“I’m Ma-ah,” the voice said. “Where am I? I signed that tile a few days ago. Who are you? You look like Window—”

Like Window? Proteus thought, way in the background somewhere. In his dream there was a man who looked like Sumpter. And the name Window was familiar. He tried to speak, but the odd voice kept saying other things instead, and he couldn’t seem to control his own vocal cords.

“Be calm,” Window said. “Speak slowly.”

Proteus managed to get control. “Who said that?” he asked, dazed. “Did I?” Then the other voice immediately cried out: “These are ruins. What happened?”

“Everything will be all right,” Window said. He bent closer, and as he did so he sensed Ma-ah within Proteus quite clearly. “Both of you relax a minute,” he said. “Get your separate thoughts straight. Don’t worry.”

Proteus took a deep breath, his-her eyes riveted on Window’s face.

“What year is it?” Window asked.

“October, 2254,” Proteus said.

“You’re the boy from my dream,” Ma-ah cried, through Proteus’ lips. “Where are you? I can’t see you.”

“Window, what’s going on?” Proteus asked.

“It’s Sumpter,” Ma-ah cried; then, forlornly: “You look like him but you’re a wrong version—” The voice sounded panicky.

Quickly Window said, “Listen. Everything will be all right. You can get back where you belong. You’re in the wrong place. Now wait and listen.”

His voice, so like Sumpter’s, held Ma-ah’s attention. She tried to organize her thoughts and perceptions as best she could.