Beneath Ceaseless Skies 415

From Each One, the Strength-of-All: “I don’t think the big guy’s listening,” Rockcroft says, and winks, and I’m sure I blanch. Miles away, the Strength-of-All’s actual ears rest, within this city that developed around his head centuries and centuries ago. My skin crawls as if his gaze has settled on me, judging me for not speaking up against Rockcroft’s blasphemy. Rockcroft chuckles at my reaction. “Seriously, don’t worry.”

Joy, or A Humble Orbit Through the Celestial City: The ceremony proceeds, and after some hours, in which I maintain my immaculate visage despite the indignity heaped upon me, we are ordered to open our eyes and so bask in the piercing light of the Sun, which comes literally from above but which all understand comes spiritually from the mighty one before us.