“You do, huh?” Window said. “I am, in a way. But there’s someone I want you to meet—” He pressed a button, and a doorway slid open.

Proteus was already gearing himself. Something in Window’s tone told him that some type of a test was involved. If he failed it, what could they do? What would it mean? Before he had time to think any more about it, a girl entered. She was a little older than he, slender, dressed like Window in flowing overalls and overblouse.

“This is Story,” Window said.

As she came forward, smiling, suddenly her eyes darkened. She took a step backward, shivered slightly, and turned to Window as if for support.

“What is it?” Window asked.

“I don’t know yet.” Her voice was so soft that Proteus had to strain to listen. She said, “I just feel … that he’s a bigger threat than we realized, but in an entirely different way than we thought. I don’t know why. The story’s only just beginning to come—”

“Could you be wrong?” Window asked.

“Of course,” she said, irritably. “All of my stories have to be deciphered. Maybe I’m reading it wrong. Some are true now, but not later. Or later, but not now—”

“What are you staring at me like that for? And what are you talking about?” Proteus asked, hurt. “We’ve just met. What do you mean, about stories?” He frowned at Window unhappily, and wouldn’t look at the girl’s face.

“She’s called Story because often stories come to her that are true. They’ve actually happened or will happen.”

“But that’s just superstition,” Proteus said. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but–”

“You don’t, huh?” Window interrupted, smiling.

“Well, if he doesn’t understand anything at all, then what’s the point?” Story cried, exasperated.

“Never mind, tell your story,” Window said. “I’m sure that Proteus will be polite enough to listen anyway.”

Proteus shrugged airily, half-intimidated, half-curious. He tried to ignore the goosepimples that thickened up on the insides of his arms. After all, he thought, what could the girl possibly say? Why did he feel that she could ruin everything?

“I can only tell the story as it comes to me,” she said. “I just trust it, whether or not it seems to make sense right away. So don’t be angry if it sounds strange—”

“I’m not angry,” Proteus said, too loud. He blushed.

She kept her eyes open, but looked way over to one side. “Well, first I see an old man and woman. She’s … giddy and maybe ready to die. Or maybe he is. They’re in some kind of vehicle that was used on Earth centuries ago…. Something is about to happen. Or maybe it just has. She seems to be talking to some man who’s dead and his body is nearby. The two of them are connected with Proteus.”