It was growing lighter outside, and the character of the land was beginning to change. Ahead, he saw the bottom teeth of a dead carnivore, the jagged line of the first Appalachian range, capped in glowing orange light. Malany crawled over from the back seat.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” she said.
“Would you like to drive?” Beckman asked.
Malany looked offended. “Certainly not. I need to absorb all this magnificence.” Beckman made a profane noise.
“You don’t like the mountains?”
“No.” he said.
“I can’t believe it. Even someone like you must be impressed by them.”
“I’m not.”
“Why not? Do you have an intelligent reason?”
Beckman waited. “They are a barrier, like the ocean or a hymen. I don’t like barriers. They are not challenges but really negative forces that try to limit you before yo
