16

The sun has just set as you stride out on the roof of the southernmost Harbor Tower. And though you have established fairly clearly that falls will not harm you, you cannot help feeling some small trepidation as you consider the leap before you. Fear? A holdover feeling from the days of life, now behind you.

And then you see her. A figure atop the northernmost tower. Bright, shining. Another ghost. Or, whatever you are, another being just like you.

The gulf of open space between the two towers separates you. She is staring out at something to the east. But then she turns.

She sees you, unmistakably.

"Who are you?"