She needed new heroes.

To the ancient Maya, the appearance of the morning star signaled change, and as she watched it rise over the pool in the oasis, she felt such a surge of purpose that she felt nauseated, as if the planet’s beams were sending a message. Her body understood it at once. Her mind was still catching up.

“But I thought anyone could know anything about anybody.” “Birth zadres are one of the only exceptions. To discourage attachment to blood kin.”

“Climate refugees!” Niloux interrupted. “But as a practical necessity, not as a religion. The refugees had to let go of people and places, forever. They had to invent fugitech to survive the floods. They had to stay in small bands to survive the pandemics.

“That maybe it’s a reconciliation of our past lives.”

Día de Pasaja is on December twenty-first every year, but this year it’s the thousand-year anniversary of Laviaja.”

But instead of surfacing in any predictable way, they surface in our instincts. I’m saying if we knew our past lives, we would reconcile them, and then . .

The sun we see is not the real sun.

It wasn’t true wholeness, but it was a step closer.