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She went to the front door, and there was the newspaper. She wondered whether it would be a Chinese
newspaper if the door were set on a Chinese city overnight; they might have to try that sometime. She
brought it in, and Obsidian bounded up, seeking attention. She welcomed the dog, rubbing her ears and
patting her solid shoulder; she really did feel more comfortable with an alert dog in the house.
But had Obsidian been outside yet? Better not to risk it. She put the leash on and they went out back to
explore the forest. The trees might be like statues, but they did look nice, and it was a truly peaceful
scene.
The dog strained at the leash, pulling this way and that, not trying to escape so much as eager to smell
every single possible thing in the area. Then she went to a brushy place and did her business. They would
have to take a longer walk sometime, or maybe explore one of the other settings; most of the settings
seemed safe enough, and even the lava one wasn't actually hot. But so far she hadn't convinced herself
that it was safe to walk on flowing volcanic rock.
But now there was breakfast to make, so they couldn't stay out. It was nice, in its fashion, to have the feel
of a family again; she had forgotten the busy-ness of it. Chandelle tugged on the leash, and the dog
headed for the house just as eagerly.
There was of course no sign of the house, because it disappeared when the door closed. There was only
the boulder. But Chandelle had marked the spot where the door was, and Obsidian was able to sniff it out
unerringly anyway. As they approached the door, it opened: Lloyd was there.
"Grandma! I found something," the boy said. "And the number clicked over."
That meant it was significant. "What is it, Lloyd?" she asked as they entered and closed the door. They
still didn't dare let the dog out on her own; it wasn't that she would flee human company, because she
loved it. It was that she might follow her nose too avidly and get into trouble.
"It's the attic. There is one. Obsidian sniffed the stairs, only there wasn't anything there, until I found the
switch in the wall. I'll show you." He was as eager as the dog.
"Yes, of course, show me," Chandelle said, knowing that the boy would not be able to rest until he had.
They went upstairs into the hall. There Lloyd stroked his hand along the wall, and suddenly there was
color forming and intensifying, until a staircase was there.
"But it's not real, at first," Lloyd said. "Touch it, Grandma."
She humored him, putting her hand on the stair's railing. And her hand passed right through it. "Oh!"
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"It's a holo. But I can make it real. Watch." He touched the wall again, and the stairway became
illuminated. "Try it now."
She touched the staircase and it was solid. "This is certainly interesting, Lloyd," she said. That was the
understatement of the morning. "And you say there is an attic up there?"
"Yeah. Full of I don't-know-whats. But I guess we'll be figuring it all out."
"Surely so. This house is full of surprises." That was perhaps the understatement of the month.
Llynn appeared. "What's going on? Oh you found a stairway up."
Lloyd started explaining it all to her. Chandelle excused herself and went down to the kitchen. The attic
did indeed look interesting, but she had work to do.
After that the attic was everything. Lloyd, Llynn, and Penn seemed equally fascinated by it. They rushed
through breakfast and mounted the stairs, and their exclamations issued fairly steadily from the upper
reaches. This, despite the fact that none of them had any idea what any of the pieces of equipment were,
or what they might do. Periodically one of them would come down to make a report.
"We've found instructions, we think," Llynn announced. "But they're in alien script, or something. It
looks like little squiggles. I copied some of them out so I can study them in better light." She showed
Chandelle the sheet by spreading it out on the kitchen table.
Chandelle looked at it. They were indeed squiggly lines and loops. "Could it be glyphic?" she asked.
"Glyphic?"
"Formed of glyphs. Symbols that represent the objects they relate to. Tiny, simplified, stylized pictures.
Like ancient Egyptian writing."
The girl considered. "Maybe so. They do look like little pictures, in a way, if I let my imagination work."
She ran her finger across the paper, picking out particular figures. "Here's one maybe like a sailboat, and
another like a sleeping dog, and " She paused.
"There's a problem?"
"Uh, not exactly. It just but maybe not."
Chandelle looked. The squiggle was tiny, but was oddly suggestive of a naked man in a state of sexual
excitement. "Maybe not," she agreed.
Llynn got up from the table. "I'll go copy some more. Maybe some of them will make more sense." She
left the kitchen.
Chandelle contemplated the sheet of paper on the table. The more she looked at it, the more suggestive
the squiggle figures became. It was almost as if they were telling a story. As if a man and a dog were
sailing on a sailboat, and the man saw a woman twin circles were highly suggestive of bare breasts
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and suffered a masculine reaction. So he brought his craft to shore, but by then the woman was gone.
Chandelle looked away, then returned to the paper. Now the squiggles were meaningless. Yet for a
moment there had seemed to be a story there. Was it just her foolish imagination, or was this the message
of the squiggles? How could she tell?
She rotated the paper, viewing the squiggles sideways. Of course she didn't know which way was up, for
them, or whether there was a proper orientation. These were just copies Llynn had drawn, perhaps not
accurately. Yet there was something about the little figures.
Her vision clouded, and the figures blurred, then seemed to assume new configurations. Now there
seemed to be not a sailboat, but a a spaceship, traveling toward twin circular planets and aiming a space
cannon at them. But by the time it got within range, the planets had disappeared.
She blinked, and the paper contained only meaningless squiggles again. But she wondered. She was not
unduly given to flights of fantasy. Why did these tiny figures have such power to incite her notions? Was
she simply tired, or was there something to it?
She turned the paper again, so that now it was upside down, or at least inverted. She fixed her gaze on it,
and let her vision blur. Now there seemed to be a building with odd architecture, or perhaps a pavilion
that was mostly a roof supported by a central pylon. Under that roof was a hanging effigy. The
neighboring picture expanded that figure, which seemed to be diving into chaos. Nearby was a plant with
two round flowers. Perhaps the flowers would bring that effigy to life, but they wilted before the
swimmer arrived.
Chandelle looked up. She glanced at her watch, and was startled to see that half an hour had passed. She
had been lost in her fancies about the squiggle sketches. This was not like her. It was time to take a break.
Penn came down. "I'm convinced that these are operative devices," he said. "But we can't figure out what
they are supposed to do."
"Llynn brought down a paper with representations of glyphs she said you found up there."
"Yes, she is copying more of them. Each device has its own instructions, assuming that's what they are.
But we can't make head or tail of them."
"But they are suggestive."
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