“An okapi is an incongruous animal that lives in the rain forest,” I called back. “It was the last large mammal discovered by man. It looks like a mix of zebra, tapir, deer, mouse, and giraffe.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“See you later,” I called. The door closed and I bowed to Alaska because there was no other audience around. I bowed the way Martin would after lifting a stick over his head. Any-how, I did stick my foot in the door, and I did teach Frederik about an animal that nothing can top.

Alaska and I ran all the way back to our village. Selma and the optician, who had been sitting on the front steps of our house, jumped up and ran to meet us. “You’re here,” they cried, “thank goodness, where have you been?” Alaska didn’t answer and I didn’t answer, either, because I was out of breath.

When Selma and the optician were done welcoming Alaska home, they looked up at me. “What’s the matter with you?” Selma asked, because I obviously looked as if I’d just barely managed to free Alaska from violent criminals who had been about to turn him into an animal experiment and me into something similar.

“He’s a monk,” I said, “a Buddhist monk. He lives in Japan.”

“Who?” the optician asked.

“Hang on,” Selma said, because it was Tuesday and the deer had appeared at the edge of the forest. Selma now gave Palm free rein with everything except the deer. For a long time, it had been a different deer than before. Another deer had taken over the original deer’s role ages ago, but unlike changing actors in her television series, it made no difference to Selma. She went to the garage, opened the door, and slammed it shut with all her strength. The deer disappeared, Selma came back to the front steps and sat down next to the optician. They looked at me expectantly as if I had announced that I was about to recite a poem.

“Well, who?” the optician asked.

I told them about the monks who had burst out of the underbrush, about the monk in the middle who was Frederik, about Hessen and Japan and how I stuck my foot in the door of the House of Contemplation at the very last minute. I recounted it all breathlessly as if I were still running on the spot.

“But what is a Buddhist monk from Japan doing here, of all places?” the optician asked.

“Walking meditation,” I said solemnly.

I held my forearm out to both of them the way my father’s patients had held their arms out for blood samples to be taken. “We have to write it down before it gets smudged. Have you ever seen such a long number?”

“The longer the number, the farther away the person,” Selma said.