## Excerpt

Inez calls after midnight, when the fan is moving warm air from one side of the room to the other and Wolfgang has stopped pretending not to listen.

The girls have got a message through. They are making progress, Inez says, but time is accelerating. The system is learning faster now—new machinery, new language, new ways of making old arrangements sound inevitable.

For a moment, neither of us says anything.

Then I tell her to send them one instruction.

**Find the black heron.**

It is an African bird that hunts by making its own darkness. In shallow water, it opens its wings into an umbrella, cuts the glare, and waits for the fish to enter the shade.

Nobody agrees whether the fish come for shelter or whether the bird simply sees them better.

It does not matter. The method is sound.

When the light belongs to somebody else, make a small night of your own.