ELEVEN
EXPOSURE TO THE WHITE NOON light was a handicap once she’d passed through the doors of the hospital. Sun-blind, she stood at one side of the stairs and waited for her pupils to readjust. In the palm of her hand, the lichen was a ticklish combination of presence and absence. If she dropped it, it wouldn’t make a sound. She lifted it closer to her face. She’d noticed the shaggy growth on the trees during her walks and had always told herself that she’d ask about it, but never had. The hair-like tendrils of the pale green plant were malleable yet held their shape and cushioned without pressure, but none of this explained how it had done what Gideon claimed. How will you accept the intelligence it offers the universe? She took the stairs to the main floor toward the kitchen. How indeed
