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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