"Madness," Furuneo said, shaking his head. Then, "Internal?"
"Unbounded place of connectives," the Caleban said.
"We're right back where we started," Furuneo groaned. "What's a connective?"
"Uncontained opening between," the Caleban said.
"Between what?" Furuneo roared.
"Between one and eight."
"Ohhh, no!"
"Also between one and x," the Caleban said.
As McKie had done earlier, Furuneo buried his face in his hands. Presently he said, "What's between one and eight except two, three, four, five, six, and seven?"
"Infinity," the Caleban said. "Open-ended concept. Nothing contains everything. Everything contains nothing."
"You know what I think?" Furuneo asked.
"I read no thoughts," the Caleban said.
"I think you're having your little game with us," Furuneo said. "That's what I think."
"Connectives compel," the Caleban said. "Does this expand understanding?"
"Compels . . . a compulsion?"
"Venture movement," the Caleban said.
"Venture what?"
"That which remains stationary when all else moves," the Caleban said. "Thus, connective. Infinity concept empties itself without connective."
"Whoooooheee!" Furuneo said.
At this point he asked to be let outside for a rest.
Furuneo was no closer to understanding why the Caleban maintained such a high temperature in the Beachball.
"Consequences of swiftness," the Caleban said, varying this under questioning with "Rapidity convergence." Or "Perhaps concept of generated movement arrives closer."
"Some kind of friction?" Furuneo probed.
"Uncompensated relationship of dimensions possibly arrives at closest approximation," the Caleban answered.
Now, reviewing these frustrating exchanges, Furuneo blew on his hands to warm them. The sun had set, and a chill wind was beginning to move off the bluff toward the water.
Either I freeze to death or bake, he thought. Where in the universe is McKie?
At this point Tuluk made long distance contact through one of the Bureau Taprisiots. Furuneo, who had been seeking a more sheltered position in the lee of the Beachball, felt the pineal ignition. He brought down the foot he had been lifting in a step, planted the foot firmly in a shallow pool of water, and lost all bodily sensation. Mind and call were one.
"This is Tuluk at the lab," the caller said. "Apologies for intrusion and all that."
"I think you just made me put a foot in cold water," Furuneo said.
"Well, here's some more cold water for you. You're to have that friendly Caleban pick up McKie in six hours, time elapse measured from four hours and fifty-one minutes ago. Synchronize."
"Standard measure?"
"Of course, standard!"
"Where is he?"
"He doesn't know. Wherever that Caleban sent him. Any idea how it's done?"
"It's done with connectives," Furuneo said.
"Is that right? What are connectives?"
"When I find out, you'll be the first to know."
"That sounds like a temporal contradiction, Furuneo."
"Probably is. All right, let me get my foot out of the water. It's probably frozen solid by now."
"You've the synchronized time coordinate for picking up McKie?"
"I got it! And I hope she doesn't send him home."
"How's that?"
Furuneo explained.
"Sounds confusing."
"I'm glad you figured that out. For a moment there, I thought you weren't approaching our problem with sufficient seriousness."
Among Wreaves seriousness and sincerity are almost as basic as they are with Taprisiots, but Tuluk had worked among humans long enough to recognize the jibe. "Well, every being has its own insanity," he said.
It was a Wreave aphorism, but it sounded sufficiently close to something the Caleban might have said that Furuneo experienced a momentary angeret-enforced rage and sensed his ego shimmering away from him. He shuddered his way back to mental solidity.
"Did you almost lose yourself?" Tuluk asked.
"Will you sign off and let me get my foot out of the water?"