"Our leader is crazy," Michael told the voice in his head.

"WE should talk," the voice answered "I recommend you not tell anyone about me. I told my teachers about you, thinking they would find it fascinating. Instead, I was afraid they were going to lock me up."

"I haven't told. I have a hard time believing it myself. People don't usually communicate this way. But we're changing the subject. We now have absolute proof of a non-human intelligent life form, and he goes out of his way to anger them.

"All they have asked of us is to not harm the environment."

"I understand when you think 'environment' you mean all the world around you," Ghoram thought. "I don't understand how you can harm that when you have no magic. Are there too many of you in a small space?"

Michael laughed. "I'm sorry. You would have to see us to appreciate it. We are just a few thousand people living in a huge land. But our ancestors new how to make things to make life easier. Most of these things are machines, and have to be built in special places called factories. The factories produce waste that harm the environment."

"Like contrary magic," Ghoram replied.

"Umm, allright." Michael was never quite comfortable with Ghoram's easy acceptance of magic as a rel, everday thing.

They had argued the point back and forth, and enevitbly, Ghoram would point out that their telepathy itself had to be a form of magic. Early on, Michael had countered that their brains were simply picking up each other's electromagnetic fields, but when he actually calculated field strengths and distances involved, he found he could not support that explanation.

So he had decided to let Ghoram believe in magic if he wanted to.

"Contrary magic," Ghoram explained "Is using the natural forces to work against the Natural Order of things."

Ghoram spoke a lot of the Natural Order. Apparently it was a major part of his people's philosophy. "Okay," Michael replied neutrally.

"There is always risk with contrary magic," Ghoram continued, and misused, it can be very destructive. Fire is the simplest example. Used intelligently, it can warm a house in Winter. Used improperly, or left neglected, it is one of the fiercest destroyers."

"Then I guess you could call most of our technology 'contrary magic'," Michael conceded.

"So you use 'technology to make the machines to make your life easier. Under what special circumstances do you use these machines?"

"Whenever possible! There's no special occasion."

Michael sensed surprise in Ghoram. He usually didn't sense feelings from Ghoram, so he concluded that he must be very surprised.

"Your people are trying to LIVE on contrary magic? That won't work. Constant use of contrary magic will use up all the Natural Force."

"Apparently it bothers the Oreni, too," Michael added.

According to our old legends from when the Oreni lived amomg us, they need Natural Force like we need air. More than that, they are actually part of the Natural Force."

"Well, anyway, our leader essentially told the Oreni Old Ones to go away and leave us alone."

"He is crazy. Friendship with the Oreni should be his highest goal as your leader. They can help you or destroy you, just as easily either way."

"I got that impression," Michael agreed.

"I have to go," Ghoram said. "My master is calling me." The contact was broken.

As usual, Michael felt slightly disoriented, as if he just woke up. "Master," he said aloud, his own voice startling him. That was another thing about Ghoram he'd never get used to. He couldn't imagine having to call someone master.

The president's VTOL had returned safely, but he was not pon board. Evidence suggested he had bailed out over open ocean, but no one had seen him leave. None of the three Ghanstone communicators that had disappeared with him had been heard from.

Interestingly a significant landmass had been discovered during the VTOL's circumnavigation. As best they could tell, it was 180 degrees away from the main continent - in other words on the opposite side of the world.

This 'new' landmass was surrounded by a number of small islands. There were interesting future settlement possibilities there.

But by all accounts, president Wagner was already missing long before they reached the landmass.

Michael tried to not be happy about the president's misfortune, but it was difficult.

He looked back up at Grossa. When he wasn't communicating with Ghoram, it was hard to imagine anyone living there. It was supposed to be a gas giant. According to Ghoram, it was as solid as Neuerde, with a high layer of clouds above. Ghoram's people had never seen stars, or even Neuerde, their own moon.

They had 'met' when Michael had been staring at Grossa's cloud bands, and Ghoram had sent his mind to 'the other side of the sky'.

To Ghoram's people, Grossa was simply The World. It was their whole universe. The upper clouds brightened during the day and darkened at night. They had no concept of sun, moon, or stars, though they did have the idea of inside and outside. Ghan's heart was said to have been sent outside where it roamed above the top of the sky. Their ocean tides were thought to be caused by the water trying to follow Ghan's heart around.

Of course, Michael recognized that Ghan's heart would have to be Neuerde. He didn't tell Ghoram that though. Ghan seemed to be a local god to both the Oreni and Ghoram's people. Michael didn't want himto start thinking he was some kind of angel or something.

Grossa was approaching its New phase. Neuerde would soon pass into its shadow, eclipsing the sun for about an hour.

Ghoram had spoken of a special ceremony they were about to observe where the tides would be their 'most relaxed' as he had put it.

Michael found it interesting that a people who had no concept of astronomy were about to have ceremonies over an astronomical event. Well who was he to judge, he realized.

He suddenly wanted to be up in the hills when the eclipse started.

Why not? He started walking.

He hadn't considered the temperture drop the higher elevation and disappearance of the sun would produce. It was getting chilly enough he wished he'd brought clothing. Not that he'd ever had any. Living at the equator, it just didn't get cool enough to need them. Ordinarily, anyway. He wondered idly what it would feel like to wear clothes. It seemed to him it would be a fairly claustrophobic experience, having his arms and legs covered.

He hugged himself for warmth, and watched the eclipse progress. He started to think it was a dumb idea to come up here. The desire had been strong, though. Why was that?

When he really thought about it, he felt foolish. He had hoped to see an Oren. Why he had thought they might be easier to meet during an eclipse, he couldn't say.

The sun was fully behind Grossa, but the familiar dim donut of light was not yet uniformly illuminated. Grossa's now translucent cloud bank was still brighter on the side that had just obscured the sun.

When he looked away from Grossa, he nearly lost bladder control. Standing directly in front of him was an Oren, who hdalso just been looking up.

He had never seen an Oren before, but he had heard descriptions of the humanoid forms appearing to be made of smoked glass. Knowing that some of the Oreni spoke at times, he said "I am Michael. I want to be a friend to the Oreni."

"I know. That's why I called you here."

The Oren's voice surprised Michael. It was the voice of a young boy - or girl. He couldn't tell for sure. He reflexively looked at the Oren's form for gender clues, then felt foolish. It was known that the Oreni didn't reproduce the way humans did, so looking for the human organs made no sense.

Still feeling fooloish, he asked "Is that your normal voice?"

"I have no normal voice. No Oren does. I borrowed this voice."

Michael was sure he had heard right, but he wasn't about to ask how one borrows a voice.

The Oren spoke again. "We take care of our friends."

Immediately, warmth seemed to flow up from the ground, enveloping Michael fully. Not only was he not cold any more, he felt invigorated. "Danke," he said sincerely.

"Friends learn how to respect and care for each other," the Oren said. "You should know that it takes energy out of me to do that, and energy is what I am made of. What I have done would be comparable to you tearing off a small piece of your skin and handing it to me."

"I'm sorry! You didn't have to..."

"Your life was not in danger, so I didn't have to. However, I wanted you to understand what a responsibility being a friend of the Oreni is. We are not an ulimited source of free magic. You need to understand that helping you usually costs us.

"And frienship works both ways. We expect you to represent us around other humans."

"That's more than fair," Michael said.

The eclipse was full.

"The eye of Ghan is on us," the Oren said. Let's go."

"Where?" Michael asked.

"Your home. I will be living with you for one trip around the sun. I will not usually be visible. If you want to talk, just use my name."

"I don't know your name."

"Hruhmuss."

"Hruhmuss?" Michael asked.

"Not something you are likely to say by accident in casual converation, is it?"

"I don't think there's any danger of that."

"Good. You seemed disturbed by my voice. How can I make it better?"

"How old are you?" Michael asked.

"Five hundred twelve trips around the sun."

"Can you make your voice sound like an old man?"

"I am not old. I am a child like yourself."

Michael was fifteen, and resented being called a child. Admittedly, in the big picture he was still a child, but he didn't like the label.

"Can you at least make the voice deeper?"

"Like yours?"

"I guess."

"May I touch your throat?" Hruhmuss asked.

It was an odd request, but what wasn't odd about the situation. "Sure," Michael answered, throwing back his head to make his throat protrude.

Hruhmuss touched his adam's apple. Michael felt warmth spread in his neck and up into his sinuses.

"Thank you," Hruhmuss said in a slightly strained version of Michael's voice. He removed his hand.

Michael had never heard a recording of his own voice, so didn't realize how close the two were.

"Is that better?" Hruhmuss asked.

"It's fine," Michael said. "So you are going to live with me for a year?"

"Yes."

"Won't that be boring for you?"

"So far, human behavior has not bored me. Puzzled me at times, but not bored me."

"So you're seeing if I meet your requirements?" Michael asked.

"We have already chosen you. The year is for you to decide."

"Why wouldn't I want to be a friend of the Oreni?"

"You might not want the responsibility."

"I don't mind responsibility. I don't know what I can do for you though. I mean, you guys have more power than any human ever could. What could you need from me.?"

"Representation."

"For what?"

"We are vulnerable. You humans reproduce much faster than we do. What you call our 'power' comes from the sun, air, water, rocks, plants, and animals. Your people disturb that natural flow and even poison it. We are concerned that within a few of your generations, you will overrun the whole continent that young Oreni like myself depend on to mature into Old Ones.

"The Old Ones have chosen not to destroy you yet. They want to see if you can learn to live with us."

"Not to destroy us yet"? Michael asked, alarmed.

"Correct. They have even made a new land for you when your numbers become too large here."

"They made a new land?"

"The Old Ones are powerful."

"I guess. So when do we get to see this new land?"

"Some of you already have seen it. The Old Ones took your leaders aircraft over the new land before returning home. The plants and animals need time to mature before the land is ready. It was designed especially for humans, based on how we have seen you live here."

"How have you seen us live?" Michael asked, taken aback by that.

"We know what foods you eat, we know you depend heavily on the silkmouse, you prefer living near the equator, and many of you are uneasy looking at the world you call Grossa."

"We are?" Michael asked.

"You are, and you do."

"Why do you say we prefer living near the equator?"

"We have observed it. At the begining of your first generation, you were evenly distributed. Since your second generation, your numbers have moved away from the North and South, and toward the equator. Your largest growth is in two zones about one-third of the distance between the equator and the arc/trops. The new land is larger east and west than this land, but only as wide as your current growth zones north and south."

"Sounds good," Michael agreed. "I don't see how the arc/trop folks get by with the temperature extremes anyway."

"We intervene. We can't let them die when it's in our power to save them."

Realization shot through Michael. "Then President Wagner is still alive," he said.

"I did not tell you that," Hruhmuss said.

"You did just now," Michael countered.

"You are assuming that it was in the Old Ones' power to save him."

"Yes, I am assuming that. They could have prevented him leaving the VTOL in a number of ways. They didn't. Therefore, they must have had other ways to protect him."

"You are as smart as the Old Ones said. I think we have chosen well."

"I think I have too," Michael replied.