Something drops gently upon my hand. I look down to see a round button-like object attached to a line that goes up above.
I raise it, when the string sways out from the tree, free from aught else but the sky.
I feel in my hand a signal, which I recognize. By my knowledge of Arc as a “hello,” which I answer back. Then comes a communication:
“I am away up in the sky. Who are you?”
Thinking some trick is being played on me I answer:
“Robet.”
Ting a ling ling. They are happy. (Can it be the Traveler?)
Hoping so, I telephone on the line, in Robet’s voice:
“It is my darling!”
I hear back: “It is sounding from the clouds in accents of her voice. O, clouds, speak again.”