The first night she heard the sound, she wasn’t sure it was sound. It went ringing and ringing down the hall. She walked down the hall in the stony twilight streaming in through the window, wondering how the body moved as it did. She felt drawn forward as a slanting cell. She had been walking for thirty minutes and none at all; for five miles she stood still. If she had to describe it as anything, hearing was the closest she could come after that first day, and she knew that it lasted less than forty minutes, if more than a moment, for she found herself thinking these thoughts, sitting in her favorite armchair, listening to her grandma drone on and on in an argument with the wizard-like elder Saphic Maco. She found herself suddenly understanding all of these things in that very moment. This feeling of her consciousness unfurling itself over her was akin to some combination of both a cold pail of water and a heavy quilt being tossed over her curled form. The feeling was electric. “The power flows heavy these days” she whispered to herself. “The white on the water,” the air sang softly.