“But all that represents the superstitions that the women were able to wipe out,” Proteus said. “Granted, they’ve made a lot of errors, and I was anything but happy as a Floater, as you call it, but the women are logical. I’m open-minded about … well, real things.”

“He’s going to be quite impossible,” Story said, coldly, to Window. She tried not to sound angry, but she felt quite upset and personally insulted. “No one ever doubted my stories before,” she said. “What they mean isn’t always apparent at once, but everyone always took it for granted that a meaning was there. The stories do stand for something real. My name’s Story because my stories began when I was a child. We pick our names when we’re seven, with our parents’ help, and confirm them at fourteen. So you’re saying that my name doesn’t mean anything. You’re trying to deny my whole existence—”

Her outburst so surprised Proteus that he didn’t know what to say. Hopefully he looked to Window, who unaccountably looked the other way, so Proteus was forced to come to his own defense.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I’m not saying that your name is wrong, or you’re wrong. Well, the story you told didn’t make sense to me, but it was a story of sorts. So you do tell stories, and your name is right. I just don’t think that the story really had anything to do with me.” In utter confusion, with his face reddening, he said, “That’s all I can say.”

“And not one thing made sense to you?” she asked, persistent.

Proteus shook his head. Then he said, “One small thing sounded familiar, but that was just coincidence or something. You mentioned a painting that sounded like one I’ve dreamed of several times; not that I remember many of my dreams, because I don’t. That one stuck in my mind because it made me want to come to the Earth’s surface even more than I did already.”

Proteus hadn’t realized that Story had been so tense, with her shoulders all raised up until he finished speaking and she suddenly smiled.

Her shoulders relaxed, and a flush of warmth transformed her face. “But that isn’t anything,” he said quickly. He turned to Window, but Window was smiling at Story.

“Why should such a small thing make you feel better?” Proteus asked, genuinely surprised. “Nothing else made any sense to me at all.”

Window said, “The dream may have had something to do with your coming here—”

“But I already intended to.”