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  She withdrew and sat down quietly, trying to understand. Afraid of disturbing the Net, she tightened her wall. Either the mind was choosing to ignore her or it had not sensed her at all, and that was not possible unless it was a solitary, a separate self. And that was impossible.

  Daiya trembled. She stood up slowly, ready to creep away. Her feet slid against the stones, loosening them. She fell, sliding down the hill toward the strange being below. She threw out her mind and stopped herself, holding her body still until she found a branch. She clung to it. Something below was moving; she realized she had disturbed it. She stood up straight and slipped again, sending a shower of dirt and small pebbles down the hillside toward the being. She thrust out her hands and seized another branch. She waited, too tired to do anything else. She could now see the clearing below.

  A vehicle was there, large enough to hold several people. She assumed it was a means of transport; she could not imagine what other purpose it might have. Unlike the wagons the villagers sometimes used to bring in produce from the fields, it had runners, long flat pieces of metal which curved at the ends, instead of wheels, and there were no tame horses to pull it. Inside the vehicle, a light shone, illuminating part of the area around it. Something moved near the craft. She had the feeling that it could see her in spite of the darkness. The thing moved closer to the light. Daiya cleared her mind and gazed at it with her eyes.

  At first she thought she saw a human face looking up at her, its dark eyes wide; she sensed a ripple of curiosity and fear. Her mind reached toward it again. It blurred and changed. She saw a metal cylinder; it stood on two rounded metallic limbs while two other limbs, attached to its torso, waved at her. It was like a machine, yet it had a mind. Something alien had entered her world.

  It began to move toward the hill. Terrified, Daiya lifted herself from the ground with all her strength. She soared swiftly over the hill, back in the direction from which she had come. She dipped toward a cluster of trees, knowing she would have to land before her strength gave out. She circled one tree and alighted on a thick branch. Too tired to build a fire, and afraid to stay on the ground, she settled herself in the hollow connecting the branch to the trunk and curled up to await morning.

  Daiya awoke feeling stronger. She concentrated on her muscles, removing the aches, then looked up at the sky through the leafy limbs overhead. It was already growing light; she had slept a long time.

  She sat up and dangled her legs over the branch. She knew what she had to do. She knew she should contact the village and let the Merging Ones explore the meaning of this intruder. Something welled up inside her at the thought, tightening the barrier around her mind. She had seen it first; she had a right to find out what it was and what it was doing here before she informed the others.

  She trembled as she realized the implications of her thought. This was no longer a matter of hiding behind a wall with inconsequential youthful notions and doubts. She would be keeping something important from the village, making herself separate in a fundamental sense. She hugged the tree trunk, certain that the horror of the notion would shake the Net, but it did not; her wall was too tight.

  She searched frantically for rationalizations. She would have to face the unknown during her ordeal, so she might as well explore this new thing now. It would be good training for her; if she did not survive it, she probably was not ready for her ordeal anyway. Besides, she thought, it's not as if I'm going to keep it from the others forever, it's just for a while.

  She drifted toward the ground and landed lightly. She straightened her clothes and took a sip of water. Then she turned and started to walk back toward the intruder.

  Daiya stood behind a tree on the hillside, concealing herself as well as she could. It was a simple enough trick; she had used it on Silla, pressing herself against the side of a hut, masking herself mentally and physically so her sister could barely see her. The trick worked with younger children who were not as skilled in mental disciplines, but she did not know if it would work with this strange being below her.

  The clearing was barren and dusty, unlike the dell where she had planned to sleep the night before until terror had driven her to a tree. A few thorny bushes grew at the bottom of the hill; the land below was strewn with stones and flat gray rocks. A few patches of green weeds were managing to survive, along with some of the bright red wildflowers called earthflames because they looked like fires from a distance.

  The creature stood near its vehicle, moving its limbs over the shiny surface. Cautiously, Daiya reached out, trying to grasp its surface thoughts. She caught diagrams, pictures, symbols, concepts she could not comprehend. She concentrated on its feelings, trying to ignore the alien thoughts. She realized it, too, was frightened and worried.

  She withdrew her mind and considered what to do next. She could try to communicate with it, but how? Its mind was that of a solitary. It could not read her thoughts or even sense the presence of her mind. That meant it had to rely only on sight and sound and other senses. Perhaps it had a voice and could speak, though she was not sure how she would understand it even if it did. She would have to wall up her mind and approach it only through its body, its physical senses.

  Daiya built her wall, closing her eyes and ears as she did so. She opened her eyes.

  The cylinder was gone. She saw only a boy, a human being like herself. At least she thought he was a boy. He had thickset shoulders under his tight silver garb, a flat chest, narrow hips, and a bulge at his crotch; he looked too young to be a man. He moved away from the vehicle and circled it on legs, not cylindrical limbs, turning his head as he gazed around the area.

  But her mind had sensed a machine, something mechanical. Shocked and confused, she let her control slip. He looked toward her and she knew he had seen her. His mouth opened; it was a black gap in his light brown face. He drew back his lips, showing his teeth. Sounds reached her ears. He was speaking, but she could not understand his words.

  He held out his hands, palms up.

  She waited. He stood perfectly still, then let his hands drop. He said other words, more guttural than the ones he had spoken before, but she still did not understand. He motioned with one arm, as if drawing her to him.

  Daiya reached out with a mental feeler and skimmed his mind again quickly. The figure below blurred again, flesh becoming metal; the eyes glittered and shone. She sensed curiosity and some apprehension. She withdrew, realizing he would not hurt her.

  She sat on her heels, showing the palms of her hands to him. He was still and silent. She had peered into his mind enough to realize he did not have mental powers, which meant he was incapable of fooling her with an illusion, showing her eyes the shape of a boy when in fact he was something else. Then why did her eyes sense one thing and her mind another?

  He lifted a hand and spoke again in a more musical way. The syllables seemed to rise and fall and for a moment she felt she could grasp a word here and there. Then he stopped. She still had not understood a thing.

  She climbed to her feet, and went down the hill slowly, moving closer to him. She stopped several paces away and waited. He stepped toward her. She took a step back.

  He spoke again, pointing up at the sky with a finger. As he spoke, she reached out carefully and grasped only his unvoiced surface thoughts. Then she saw the meaning of the sounds he was making. She saw his face, then his body in the vehicle as the craft moved toward the foothills. He was saying he was from the sky, or from above, or from heaven; she was not sure which. He said another word, and pointed to her; she realized it was a question. He was asking who she was.

  She did not answer. Instead, in her own language, she said, “You are from the sky.”

  He seemed startled. His surface thoughts rushed together, blurred and incoherent, so she concentrated on his feelings. He had recognized some of her words and that had surprised him. Haltingly, he answered her in her language, though the words were so badly accented she could never have grasped them without reading his mind.
“I am from above,” he said, and then a thought reached her, ancient language, very old. She waited for him to say more before realizing that he only recognized the words, had heard her speech before, but did not know more than a few phrases in the language.

  He went over to the craft and reached inside. He took out a small object wrapped in a shiny substance. He held it out to her. She caught the thought.

  “Food,” she said, pointing to it.

  “Food,” he repeated.

  Daiya was hungry. Her stomach gurgled. She suppressed the hunger and shook her head, waving the food away with a hand. She had to remember her training. Anyway, she thought suspiciously, the food could be poisoned or made of dangerous herbs; she had to guard herself.

  The boy peeled away the shiny covering and stuffed the food into his mouth, chewing it quickly. Then he pointed at the ground. He thrust out his hands, motioning downward. He seemed to be telling her to sit down.

  Daiya sat, folding her legs. He sat down across from her and motioned again, but she could not tell what he meant this time. He closed his eyes.

  She watched him. He seemed to be in a trance. For a moment, she thought of touching his mind again, but she did not want to intrude—not that he would notice even if she did. She felt that he did not want to be disturbed. It was almost as if he was communicating with another mind. But that was impossible; he did not have the ability.

  Daiya fidgeted, unfolding her legs, then tucking them in again. The boy was being very foolish, trusting that she would not harm him while he sat entranced. She knew what she should do now. She had only to pull the Net, call the Merging Ones, tell them about this strange boy. They could decide what to do. It would be out of her hands, and she would be free to continue with her training.

  She got up and walked over to the boy's vehicle. She touched the metal and pulled her hand back quickly; it had been warmed by the sunlight. He said he had traveled in this machine. If he had been from another part of Earth, he would have come here on foot or on horseback. But she had known he was not from another village. The ways of other towns were like those of her own community. Her father's own great-grandparents had come from a village several days’ travel to the south; they had been part of a group following an ancient custom which decreed that, every few generations, a number of young people past their ordeal must leave their own home and settle in another, so that human settlements did not grow apart from one another. So the boy had probably been speaking the truth when he said he came from the sky, unbelievable as it seemed. She thought of the comet; it had been a sign after all.

  A dark translucent dome covered the top of the boy's craft. Daiya touched it gently. Unlike the metal of the machine's body, it was cool. Puzzled, she peered at it. The night before, when she had first seen the craft, the dome had been transparent, not dark.

  She retreated from the vehicle and stood over the boy. His eyes were still closed. She knew she had to call the village.

  Something seemed to grip her mind. Her muscles tensed; she felt the skin of her face tighten. Something inside her was keeping the wall in front of the Net. She did not want to call the village. She had found the boy, she had a right to find out more before telling anyone about him. She had seen him first. She shook; her skin prickled. She was keeping something from the others, she had a secret, she was acting like a solitary. She tried to push the thought away. It isn't like that, she told herself. She only wanted to find out more about him first, discover whether or not he had weapons or might be dangerous. She was protecting the village. She would tell them later.

  She looked down at the boy. His blue-black hair was straight and thick. His light brown skin glistened. There must be others like him, she thought. She tried to imagine it, a group of separate minds like his; how could they possibly live together, able to speak to one another only with words? How could they feel love? How could the Merged One allow such beings to survive? She remembered her own doubts about God and shuddered. Perhaps the boy was a sign to her that the Merged One did not exist. Perhaps there was another Great Force in the world, one who sought to separate what God tried to unite, and this boy was one of its worshippers.

  Thinking such things was blasphemous. The air was cold around her. She hugged herself with her arms, feeling as though she was trapped in a dark abyss. If this boy's presence brought on such thoughts, he was dangerous, as dangerous to the village as the solitaries, perhaps even more dangerous. Her hand was on her knife. Separate selves could not be allowed to live.

  The boy suddenly opened his eyes, looking around quickly before he saw her. She sat down again, gazing into his dark brown eyes, noticing tiny folds over the inner corners of his eyelids which made his eyes look almond-shaped; only a few villagers had eyes like that. She prayed silently, wishing God would answer her.

  The corners of the boy's mouth turned up; he was smiling. He wrinkled his nose, as if smelling something rank. Daiya rested her hands on her knees. Surely the Merged One would not condemn her for trying to reach out to a separate self before acting. Clinging to this shred of belief, she forced herself to smile.

  “Reiho,” the boy said, pointing to his chest. “My name is Reiho.” She scanned his surface thoughts as he spoke. His accent was still strange, and he gargled some of the sounds, but his words were clearer.

  “Daiya,” she answered. “My name is Daiya.”

  “Accident,” the boy said, gesturing at his craft. “Have to repair.” He pulled at the silvery garment he wore; it was as tight as skin against his body. It separated, showing part of his hairless chest. “You speak old language, old speech,” he went on. “Implant give me some words, I learn more later with hypnotraining when asleep.”

  She shook her head, not knowing what he was talking about. Even scanning his mind could not help her interpret those words. He pointed to his forehead. “Implant,” he said again. “Inside. You have no implant?”

  Daiya shrugged. Since she did not know what he meant, she assumed she did not. She got to her feet. She needed time by herself, time to figure things out.

  “You go?” he asked. “Find others?”

  She felt his apprehension. “No,” she responded. “I'm by myself. I have to go now, I'll come back later.”

  “More slowly,” he said, wrinkling his thick eyebrows.

  “I have to go now,” she said carefully, motioning with her hands. “I will come back later.” She felt irritated with him as she spoke, wishing they could mindspeak instead of using this cumbersome method.

  He held out a hand, obviously wanting her to stay. She drew back, then lifted herself off the ground so that she would not have to wade through the bushes at the bottom of the hill. As she landed on the hillside, she saw his mouth drop open. Good, she thought, wanting him to be a bit afraid of her; it might protect her.

  She carefully approached the place where the boy was. She peered cautiously around a tree, almost expecting to see others of his kind in the clearing below.

  He was still alone. Now that it was night, the top of his vehicle was transparent again. A light bathed the inside of the craft. The boy sat in one of the doorways, his feet on the ground. He held a thin flat rectangular object on his lap and was bent over it, peering at it as he bit into the bar of food he held in his right hand. She frowned, wondering at his strangeness.

  She came down the hill slowly. She had still not called the village. She had put the boy out of her mind while she practiced physical and mental exercises, forcing herself to prepare for her ordeal. She was beginning to realize that the longer she waited with her secret, the harder it was going to be to tell it when the time came to do so; she would have to explain why she waited. That, she thought, must be why isolation was so dangerous, so feared.

  Reiho looked at her as she picked her way through the bushes. She touched his surface thoughts; he too was glad she was alone. Again she saw him as cylindrical and machinelike, until she withdrew and saw him only with her eyes. “Hello,” he said.

  “Hel
lo,” she answered, accenting the word properly. She sat down in front of him, searching for something else to say. She pointed at the flat rectangle. “What is that?” The surface of the rectangle gleamed, lighting the boy's face with a yellowish glow.

  He said a word she did not know. She gestured with a finger. “Say it again.” He repeated the word as she skimmed his mind; she grasped an image of a surface covered with symbols. “A book,” he said once more.

  “What is a book?” she asked.

  He stared at her for a moment. “Let me try to say,” he answered very slowly. “I have learned more of your speech while you were gone, Homesmind taught it to me...”

  Daiya drew back, pulling her legs up to her chest. “There is someone else here!” she cried, in her panic shouting with her mind as well. Reiho seemed to hear only the words.

  He shook his head. “No, I am alone. Homesmind is far away from here. I speak to It through my implant.” He pointed at his forehead. She searched his mind again, finding the small, pulsing light amidst the clouds of his thoughts, the light that was not part of his mind, but something else.

  She withdrew. Confused, she wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. “You speak to another mind?” she asked.

  Reiho nodded.

  “One that is very far from here?”

  He nodded again, pointing up at the sky.

  She shook her head vehemently. He was a separate self, he could not do this thing. He was trying to frighten her. He could not see her own thoughts as she sat near him, nor could he know when she touched his mind, yet he wanted her to believe he could speak to a mind in the sky. “You cannot,” she said. “I don't believe it.”