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"I would not actually have speculated that the moon would give you trouble. Do you generally track arbitrary moving objects? Tides in the Indian Ocean, tectonic plates, comets, particularly energetic whales?"

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"Only ones I can see," he says. "And I can pay more or less attention to particular ones. But I see dimension and distance with about the same immediacy as colour."

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"So other stuff gets in the way of it? How much stuff does it take to be 'opaque' to this sense?"

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"It's a visual sense," he says. "Well, partly. Mostly. One is... as though everything in my field of vision comes with little labels saying what the distances are between any part and any other part, and the other is orientation relative to known landmarks. But—" he starts to make a gesture, discovers that Cam is still holding his hand, goes very suddenly very pink, and continues after a short pause without continuing to gesture "—I don't orient relative to where something is, I orient relative to where I remember it. I can always find where we parked the car, but if somebody moves the car I can't immediately tell where they put it. If someone teleported my house three feet backward, I'd notice the next time I looked out the window or went outside, but I don't think I'd be able to tell right away. I haven't actually experimented with teleporting, come to think of it."

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"What about distorting lenses, funhouse mirrors, that kind of thing?" Cam asks. He appears to find the blushing very cute. "Also, happy to teleport you someplace if you'd like."

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"Distorting lenses... imagine looking at a ruler in a curved mirror," he says. "You can see all the tick-marks even though it looks like it's a funny shape. Visual distortions don't change the underlying dimensions, and they don't change my perception of the underlying dimensions. But mirrors are interesting, actually, because they're almost like those optical illusions where it's two faces and you blink and it's a vase. I see the real relative position of reflected objects, but I can imagine the relative position they would have if the reflected light had been travelling in a straight line through a transparent pane. There's, um, a science museum back home that has a hallway lined with two not-quite-parallel mirrors, and I used to stand in it and make myself dizzy trying to see all the imaginary relative positions of all the reflected Ikes."

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"This is fascinating. And the science museum part is adorable."

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Ike giggles.

"You can teleport me somewhere if you want!" he says. "That would be interesting."
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"Sure. Should we find your sister and get her attempt at intimidating me out of the way?"

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...Ike giggles harder.

"Sure!"
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Cam makes sure his hold on Ike's hand is secure and smiles and ports them both to wherever Ike's sister may be.

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They appear in midair, outside the space plant, with nothing below them but the planet of Thilanushinyel very very far away.

Ike squeaks.
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An indistinct glowing figure with massive indistinct glowing wings, swooping through the air toward them from about ten feet up and thirty feet forward, brakes suddenly. The humanoid silhouette drifts to a halt standing upright in midair at the edge of conversational distance, with her wings spread out flat to either side and rippling gently to keep her in place.

If those darker shapes blurrily visible in the glowing white form are what Sessiaki skeletons look like, they have a lot more differences from the human kind than just being made of iron.

Then the glowy white stuff around that skeleton shimmers and contracts slightly, revealing a very human-looking person with a definite family resemblance to Ike. She's wearing jeans and a T-shirt; the glowy white stuff seems to flow through the material to reach her skin, and stops being a window to her skeleton as soon as it is all the way through.

"Hi, what the hell?" she says.
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"Hello, you must be Ike's sister. I'm Cam."

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"Val," says Val. (She is not wearing her nametag.)

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"He is sort of slightly flirting with me," Ike says helpfully. "I think."

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Val snorts.

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"I didn't think I was being that ambiguous about it."

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"You have to be pretty direct before Ike will stop looking for alternate interpretations," says Val. "Try not to make him cry. I punch people who make him cry, and I think I might get kicked out of the party or something."

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"I don't think I have ever made anyone cry. Also, it wouldn't be automatic for you to be kicked out, it'd depend on how mad I was and how much Juliet likes you and whether you seemed likely to be otherwise disruptive."

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"Well, if you don't make him cry, we won't have to worry about it," says Val.

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"I think he is very unlikely to make me cry!" contributes Ike. "He is nice and interesting! And very pretty."

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"He is definitely pretty," says Val.

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"Just once I wish people would look past my stunning exterior and see me for the wizardly millionaire philanthropist that I really am inside," deadpans Cam.

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"Uh-huh," says Val.

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