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—First things first—to get away from the cold. I packed up stuff for the day—another sandwich, a book of Dickinson, my computer,—and took a bus to city center.

The bus was empty at this hour of morning; it was still city night.

I needed to be around people, though—the condition I was in, whatever it was, was no condition to be alone in.

Someone had set up a sort of pavilion in the park, and I headed towards it.

About half a dozen people were inside, mostly lunars, and they were frying up a lot of breakfast.

“What’s the occasion?” I said, walking up. A few that hadn’t seen me approaching looked up, and the tallest waved me over.

“We’re gaṇakas. Have you heard of us? We’re semi-secret.”