That night the television in Kit and Richard's suite showed waterfalls on Channel 5. Kit switched channels, but the waterfalls preceeded her, clicking and gleefully showed up on all the channels--including the empty static ones. They roared into the bedroom, spilling out onto the carpet. Even with the mute on, she could still hear the distant thunder of water crashing onto the rocks below.

Kit was pretty sure that this was not the first time the waterfalls had shown up on the television. The night after Richard went to search for Anna, she had woken not to the grey flecks of random nothingness but to a whispered pattern. Had that been the waterfall? Only tonight was she sure that it had been, that the waterfalls had haunted her all along.

After she went over the anomalies in her mind, carefully summing up the details into a sweeping conclusions, Kit got up. Left a message on the answering machine forDr. Wordling, the company recommended psychiatrist. Got a cup of hot cocoa and borrowed a soothing tape from Amy. The harps of the sea, it was. Kit put it into her walkman and continued to watch the waterfalls through the night:

Niagara, with the Maid of the Mist trawling underneath, undermining the delicate proportions of the foam.

Victoria Falls thundering through the Zambezi's impossibly green landscapes.

Tibet's Tsangpo River crashing down smooth obsidan walls in a mythic fall.

The long rushing water of Hawaii's Akaka falls.

Kit watched the water come from nowhere, fall into white throbbing waves and leave frothily to nowhere.

the water / falls / in torrents / as if it were the only / force that mattered / sweeping / everything / from its path

the word is / the sound / of water / dripping from/ ancient symbols / tiny particles / of merging / realities

Follow us all: Amy/Anna, Sophie/Yuki, Kit/Richard, minor characters or sift through water leavings and river journeys.