Prolog

“And the frog jumps and they get him and they grind him up and the bird sings and you can’t hear it because all you can see is the blood, the bloody frog and the sunny day is ruined!” River said passionately.

“It’s all right, River,” Simon tried to calm her. “It’s ok.”

“It’s not OK!” the girl practically screamed. “The frog!”

“Just take a deep breath,” Simon said, reaching out to her gently. “We’ll get you a nice cup of tea and . . .”

“You’re not listening to me!” River said, batting his hands away. “He gets hacked up, chopped to little bloody frog-bits. You have to listen!”

Simon sighed and closed his eyes. He loved her so much. How come taking care of her was so hard? It didn’t make sense. “River,” he finally said, opening his eyes and looking at her. “I know what you’re saying means something very important to you,” he said. “But I don’t understand it.”

“The bird sang,” River began very slowly, enunciating each word precisely so that Simon would have no trouble understanding.

“No,” he sighed, “No, I just . . . to me your thoughts seem random.”

“Neuro-electric reactions often seem random because the average human mind is too simple to recognize its own thought patterns.”

“Patterns,” Simon muttered as what seemed like a brilliant idea blossomed in his head. “River, could you make what you’re telling me a pattern?” he asked, his voice hedged with excitement. “Could you put it into a drawing, or an equation, or a poem or . . . or anything with some structure?”

“You want me to think in poems?”

“If you can,” Simon said, trying to smile at his sister and not notice how her gaze kept darting across the room. “A formal structure could help me dissect what you’re saying. I’ll be able to tell what’s important.”

“You want me to think important things in poems?” She didn’t seem daunted by the request, just confused.

“I want to understand you when you tell me things, mei mei,” Simon said, reaching out for her again. This time she didn’t bat him away. “Do you think you coul