Do not use driftwood to make a fire because it may have been cast on the waters by a chindi, who will then track you by its light.
In the forests of the night,
At the edge of the world,
The trees run on forever.
We are in a sense still gathered around our campfires, telling each other stories, wondering what’s out there in the dark. And we still do not know. We still cannot see beyond the pale cast of the flickering light.
Live from Babylon and Ur,
From Athens and Alexandria and Rome, The voices of a thousand generations, Press us,
Urge us on.
I’m indebted to David L. Dawson, M.D., NASA Johnson Space Center, and to Walter Cuirle, for technical assistance; to Holly McClure, for the chindi; to Christopher Schelling for his staying power with titles; to Ralph Vicinanza for always being there when needed. To Sara and Bob Schwager for their work with the manuscript. To Susan Allison and Ginjer Buchanan, who kept a candle burning in the window. And as always to Maureen.
Dedication
For Susan and Harlan