A hidden organizing principle kept them constantly in motion, but never clumped so he couldn’t walk in a given direction. Groups of picnic tables lay between grass lawns and wide paths. A little stand of trees caught Brett’s eye, because one of them was bright blue, with a trunk of almost the same shade of blue. It grew right near an oak. Perhaps their roots did not compete for many of the same resources? The trunk looked too smooth to be covered with bark. Instead of leaves it had narrow fronds, grouped into shapes like miniature fans. Oceanian flora was not the mystery he planned to study today though. Brett wondered how Williams was doing at the Herbirthday feast in Landfall, or if he had ducked out at the last minute. Since most of the voices didn’t speak English, Brett’s ear distinguished the few that did. To his left, a man in a blue shirt approached one with a big straw hat. “I’m Tex. Do you think we’re the only English speaking train collectors around here?” Train collectors?
