Dream d1420-s: Lano First

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where the footpath to the workshop clearing was worn down to pale dirt, the kind of path that accumulates only through years of returning. I walked it in the morning and Lano moved ahead of me with his nose low, then lifted it suddenly, ears pricked straight. He stopped. I almost stepped on him.

"What is it?" I asked. He glanced back, then forward, then continued trotting. His ears stayed up.

The Wireman was already at the bench. He always was. Wood shavings curled around his boots and the shape he was making was not yet clear, which was also usual. He didn't look up when I arrived.

Behind the workshop, the Dreamer moved between rows of pressed specimens mounted on frames she'd built over the last season. Morning light was good and she was using it, holding each frame at an angle, checking the mounting.

"The Weather Reader's been here since dawn," she said without looking up. "He's recalibrated three times."

"It's not recalibration," the Weather Reader said, appearing from around the corner with a cable in one hand and a look that meant he'd been waiting to correct someone. "It's refinement. There's a difference." He set his instrument case on the workbench beside the Wireman's shavings and opened it with methodical care. "The signal resolved at 0400. Consistent bearing. No scatter pattern."

"How far?" I asked.

"Unknown. Past the mapped edge."

Lano sat down directly on the Weather Reader's case. The Weather Reader looked at him. Lano looked at nothing in particular.

"Perro," Lano said.

The Weather Reader picked up his case from under Lano with the patience of a man who had learned not to argue.

By midday the others arrived in ones and twos. The Philosopher came last, pulling his library wagon over the clearing's uneven ground, wheels catching on roots. The Student followed behind him, pushing.

The Builder arrived with a new roll of survey paper and immediately assessed the clearing's drainage. "This ground has been compacted by years of foot traffic. Good foundation. The far edge is softer."

"The far edge is where we're going," the Philosopher said. "That seems relevant."

"It's relevant because soft ground means the source is in wetter terrain. Different infrastructure requirements."

Nobody disagreed with that.

We spent the afternoon checking equipment, arguing about weight distribution, and establishing that the Philosopher's wagon was non-negotiable, the Listener's secondary antenna array was borderline, and the White Crane would follow when it was ready and not before.

The signal held at the edge of detection. Lano's ears didn't come back down.