“Right,” said Winsome, ticking off Fuerza’s package on her list.

“Elegant Island is next. Now where’s that special package?”

“Wow, what kind of animals are those?” Laurie asked. Along the shore, little gray animals with long gray trunks were playing with each other and napping in the sun.

“Those are the Elegants. The island is full of them,” Winsome replied.

“They’re so small and graceful! It’s like they’re dancing.”

“Yeah. Package, package . . .” Winsome muttered to herself.

“Don’t they have Elegants where you come from?”

“No. We have elephants, but they are all big and clumsy. Are Elegants friendly?”

“Only as much as they need to be,” Winsome said. “Found it! Okay, this package is for Fresnel Goodglass.”

“The address just says UNDER THE RED BALLOON,” said Laurie. “I guess that means he’s over there.” She pointed to a red globe floating above the trees.

But before she left, Laurie wanted to play with the Elegants. She approached them carefully, making soft “coo, coo” noises.

“Are you a bird now?” Xor snarked.

“Shush. I’m just trying to get their attention.”

The Elegants didn’t seem especially scared or curious. In fact, they acted as though Laurie weren’t there. But their dancing always seemed to take them out of her path. When she walked along the shore, the little creatures drifted inland. When she went inland, they decided that under the trees was the place to be. Soon Laurie could see only a handful of Elegants, playing just outside of her reach. Oh, well, she thought.

* * *

With the balloon to guide them, Laurie and Xor found the hill easily enough. But when they arrived, nothing much was there. A large boat anchor was half-buried in the earth. A rope led up, and up, and up to a basket way above the ground, which itself was attached to the balloon. A couple of young Elegants were playing hide-and-seek under the trees. There were no buildings or people at all.

“Are we in the right place?” Laurie wondered aloud. “Where is the lighthouse?”

“Hey, Laurie, take a look at this.” Xor was clinging to a sign that read Please Ring for Service. A little bell hung below it. They looked at each other and shrugged. Xor gave it a whack with his tail.

rang the bell, much louder than such a tiny thing should be allowed to.

Xor was right next to it. The little lizard turned bright indigo and fell to the ground.

Laurie had to cover her ears until the sound died away.

When it was all over, the young Elegants were nowhere to be seen. Laurie gathered Xor in her hands. His skin was white and his eyes were rolling around in different directions.

“Xor! Are you okay?”

“I think so. That scared the blue right out of me!”

A hissing sound from overhead made Laurie look up. An elevator box was lowering itself to the ground in front of them. They flinched as the door opened with a polite ding!

Laurie picked up her package and, with a last look around, stepped inside. The door closed, and the elevator rose fast enough to make her toes crinkle and her stomach go roly-poly.

When the door opened again, they were a hundred yards up in the air, inside the basket. It was like a little apartment. There was a desk, a bed, and some cozy chairs. A wrinkly-faced old man with a gray beard and pointy ears was smiling at her.

“Is this . . . are you Fresnel Goodglass? I’m Laurie. I have a package for you.”

“Yes, it is! Yes, I am! Yes, you are! And thank you!” the man said, taking the package. “Welcome to my Floating Lighthouse. What do you think?”

“This isn’t a lighthouse,” Laurie said, testing the woven floor with her foot before getting off the elevator. “It’s a balloon!”

“Sure, it’s a lighthouse. In balloon form. See the big light up there?” Fresnel asked. There was indeed a big lighthouse light hanging over them.

“But where’s the long twisty staircase?” Laurie asked.

“There is the elevator instead. Easier for my old bones.”

“What about the lighthouse keeper’s room?”

“You can just look over the side of the basket.”

“And the tower?”

“Don’t need it! Inessential!” Fresnel said. “The essential part of a lighthouse is the light, not the house.”

Laurie wasn’t convinced. “You can’t just stick a light on a balloon and call it a lighthouse.”

“I can’t?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because . . . it’s cheating,” she said.

“Hmm. I think I see your point,” Fresnel agreed. “But as long as it works, the name doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!”

“Maybe you’re right,” he agreed again. “But I am a terrible host! You must be thirsty after all that walking. Would you like some water?” Fresnel offered her a pitcher and glassware on a tray.

“Oh yes, please.” Laurie took a cup and tried to fill it. The water splashed onto her shoes.

“Hey! This cup has no bottom!”

“That’s not a cup, dear child. It’s a glass,” he said.

“This glass has no bottom. How am I supposed to drink out of it?”

“On second thought, that’s not properly a glass,” said Fresnel. “It’s a mug. See the handle?”

“Okay, this mug has—”

“On third thought,” he said, stroking his beard, “it’s made of glass, but also has a handle. So perhaps we should call it a glass-mug, or a mug-glass . . .”

“I don’t care what you call it!” Laurie yelled. “It’s got no bottom and the water . . . I mean, um, you called it a glass, but it doesn’t have . . . oh.” She turned bright red.

Fresnel handed Laurie another mug-glass-cup. “You’re right again. Things are what they are, no matter what names people give them.”

“But aren’t names important?” Laurie asked, checking her new glass-cup-mug carefully for holes. Luckily, this one had a bottom.

“Names go only so far. And many names are actually the same thing in disguise.”

“Really?”

“Surely. Are you Laurie or Lauren?”

“Well, both. But I like Laurie. When Mom is really mad, she calls me Lauren.” She put her hands on her hips and threw her head back. “Lauren Ipsum, come downstairs NOW!”

Fresnel laughed like a horse would laugh, if the horse had heard the joke. “A full name is a powerful thing. But you’re the same person either way. And sometimes different things have the same name. You call your mom ‘Mom,’ but I call my mom ‘Mom,’ too.”

“But I wouldn’t call your mom ‘Mom’!” said Laurie. How weird would that be?

“There you go. It’s only logical. You have to look past the name to see things as they really are. That’s Fresnel’s First Law.”

“You sound just like Eponymous Bach,” Laurie said.

“Really? Well, I’m a Composer too,” said Fresnel. “I start with big ideas and make them smaller.”

“Make them smaller? Why?”

“Why not? Only people with small minds think Big Problems need Big Ideas.”

Laurie wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “How do you make an idea smaller?”

“By Decomposing. How would you talk about a lighthouse without using the word lighthouse?”

“Well, it’s a tall white tower near the sea, with a room full of windows at the top, and a big light on top of that, and a long twisty staircase inside.”

“That’s very good,” Fresnel said. “Now look at each part and see if it’s essential. If your tall-tower-by-the-sea-with-windows-and-big-light-and-staircase were pink, would it work just the same?”

“I guess so. I’ve never seen a pink lighthouse,” she said.

“Neither have I! But if everything already existed, life would be pretty boring. Why is your lighthouse tall?”

“So boats can see you,” said Laurie. “A short lighthouse wouldn’t work so well. And you need the twisty staircase to get to the top.”

“Why the light?”

“The light is so the boats can see you at night.”

“And the lighthouse keeper’s room?”

“So you can see them.”

“Ah, so,” said Fresnel. “My balloon has a light very high up so people far away can see it. I can look over the side and see them. I get to the top by elevator. The color doesn’t matter. It does everything a lighthouse does. Is it a lighthouse?”

“It’s like a lighthouse,” Laurie admitted.

“You drive a hard bargain! I’ll settle for ‘like a lighthouse,’” he said.

“So that’s how you Decompose?”

“That’s it, more or less. You take a big idea apart and see the why behind each part. Then you look for smaller ideas that do the same thing. For instance, what did you think of my little bell?”

“Your little bell! That thing frightened the b—”

“It needs some adjustments, I agree. But the idea is sound,” he said. “The essential part of a bell is the sound. Because the bell is way down on the ground, it needs a big sound so I can hear it.”

“So why don’t you use a big bell, then?” she asked.

“If I used a big bell, I’d need a big frame to hang it from, and a big ringer, and a big sign to go along with it. All the inessentials get bigger,” Fresnel said. “There’s no need to use a big, complex idea when a small, simple one will do.”

“I wish I could tell Bruto that,” Laurie said, remembering the giant pyramid. “But he’s so far away.”

* * *

“Winsome, why am I delivering so many telescopes?” Laurie asked.

Winsome’s expression turned stony. “It’s not nice to open other people’s mail.”

“I’m sorry. Those packages are really heavy and I wondered what could be so fragile and expensive and important . . .”

Winsome didn’t say anything. She pretended to be busy with ropes and anchors.

Laurie pressed on. “Why telescopes?” “So the lighthouse keepers can see farther out.”

“Why do they need to see farther out?”

“Because the other lighthouses are too far away.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Laurie said. “Why do people in lighthouses want to see other lighthouses?”

“Because it’s how we’re going to send messages. It’s the Lighthouse Network.”

“Why do you want to send messages that way?”

“Right now,” said Winsome, “if someone on Abstract Island wants to talk with someone on Data Island, they have to pay the Colonel and his Network of mail daemons.”

“Is that a bad thing? Why build your own Network?”

“Because I can. And because Colonel Trapp doesn’t want me to.”

“Why doesn’t he want you to build a Network?” Laurie asked.

“That’s Five Whys already, kiddo. Are you ready to go? The next stop is an easy one. You’ll like Ping. She lives in a treehouse!”