is it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put it back,” she said without looking away, seeming as if the whole world projected through her eyes.

“You’re doing this?” I asked, louder than I meant to.

“Yes. I’ll put it back.”

“No! I mean – don’t! It’s beautiful!”

Her eyes darted to my face. It was clear that I’d said the last thing she expected to hear. She looked back at what she had done, but couldn’t seem to perceive what the ascenders were.

“How can I create beauty when I don’t understand it, Mister Dauphin?” she asked. “I only wanted to verify that I still had the ability to manipulate the software. I think I am different – somehow.”

“Well… Who wouldn’t be changed seeing a place like that? You weren’t even… well, you know…”

“99.2 percent of my code is unreadable, but the process has stopped.”

“Then you’re 99.2 percent spirit?” I asked, feeling that the thought might have held truth. I looked back at the street and spotted three people looking up in awe. I grabbed Aether’s hand – the solid hand of her vanitar – and went to them.

“Isn’t it wonderful? What do you think?”

“It expresses untamed fury!” the first man said. “A fury that cries out to be heard but cannot find a voice!”

“No, it is peace,” the second said. “A peace that tries to break out of a cage and cover everything.”

“Sadness,” the woman said. “The profound sadness of seeing wasted potential, like when someone loses children on a battlefield.”

“How do you see that?” Aether asked them.

“Well, it’s not the sort of thing