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go on forever.” His fingers described extensions in the air. An instant of other-sight: Sweetness saw them stretching out beyond his reach, through him, through her, through the soft walls of the yurt and the softer walls of night and time. “You think that everything that has happened to you in your life thus far has been chance? To be so blessed! Everything you have been leads to this place, this story-jar, this confluence of forces. Of course, you can look at it the other way.” His chartreuse hands turned the oracle one hundred and eighty degrees. A different phalanx of quills menaced Sweetness. “If the universal laws are as reversible as the sages insist, then it is also true that the what-you-will-become influences your decision of what-you-are-now.”
    â€œAnd these beans, are they like God's shit, going to fall on me if I do this or don't do that?”
    The green man pursed his lips.
    â€œIf you consider that, to me, shit is an excellent fertiliser, and to thesepeople, how they warm their lives, maybe. Then again, you could consider them the weight of undecided events that must be shed for the bones of your story to emerge.”
    Sweetness cocked her head and folded her arms and looked a challenge from under her fringe of dark curls.
    â€œDo I get to drive a train or not?”
    â€œYou do a lot of driving.”
    â€œDriver, or driven?”
    The green man rotated a spill between thumb and forefinger.
    â€œGrey Lady's Visit, crossing Trumpet of Alves, acute. Both, my dear. Words of advice. Hold on tight to fast-moving objects. Don't trust too much to appearances; then again, first impressions are lasting impressions. When climbing, look at the hands, not the feet. Be aware that the marvellous is always around you. Don't discount family. Don't drop litter. Always expect unexpected assistance. Take a toothbrush and at least one change of underwear. Small change is bulky and too easily rolled out of pockets. Keep notes in your sock. Angels exist, if you know how to use them. Read a little every day. The desert teaches drought, the city bathing. Your body odour is usually worse than you think. Some day, soon, you will cost the world a moon. Your grandmother loves you very much. Easy on the throttle until the cylinders expand. The world is very much more than it seems. When you see green, trust it, for it's all one with me and I will be there in some form or another. Never pay good money to trackside hucksters.”
    The green man pulled the remaining sticks and set them beside the others on the octagonal table. The future was spoken.
    â€œThat's it?” Sweetness asked, in case it wasn't.
    â€œYes, that's it,” the green man said with the same considering look, as if Sweetness's every syllable was loaded with wise ore.
    â€œKeep your eyes open and bring a change of underwear? Anyone could tell you that. What happens to me, where do I go, what do I do, who do I meet?”
    â€œYou want me to give the story away?” the green man said.
    â€œThis is balls,” Sweetness Asiim Engineer declared. “I want my money back.”
    â€œHave beans instead,” the green man said and threw a fistful of legumes at Sweetness's face. The beans flew apart into dust. Sweetness reeled back from the blinding beige fog that, as it settled, became common Inatra road dust. The soft skin yurt and its resident were, of course, both gone.
    â€œHey!”
    In the dust at her feet Sweetness saw three gleams of silver. Her coins. A hissing: she looked up: wisps of steam were leaking from Catherine of Tharsis 's shaft couplings. The Ascent beckoned. A flicker in her peripheral vision distracted her; a wink of light, minute as a five centavo piece, floated over the top of the escarpment. Quick as silver it slithered between the wind-pumps, leaped over the zigzags of the Ascent, glimmered across the tank terraces. Every moment it grew in size: over the trucks, gardens, the water-towers