A man, an old explorer by the name of Sam Cansino, sits at the bar of an old restaurant in Khantayka, Muscovy.  He takes a swig out of a mug filled with some sort of hard liquor, possibly vodka.  A bit of music is playing from a phonograph at the other end of the room, though he cannot hear it over the din of the drunk men's voices.

             A cloaked man enters the smoke-infested bar, unnoticed, and casually seats himself at the bar, beside the explorer.  Sam Cansino leans over and asks, "So what brings you here?"

For some time, the only sound they make between them is rusty breathing, due to the cold air of Muscovy.  Without warning, however, the stranger turns to Cansino and asks, "How far is it to the Himalaya country?"

"Well," Cansino answers, after much thought, "it used to be hundreds of miles through barren tundra, but as for now, I've no idea."

The stranger appears startled at these words, and asks, "How can a distance change?"

Cansino strokes his unshaved chin, and answers, "Used to be, we thought magnetic fields couldn't change, either, or how a river flows, but they have, and so, why not distances?"

The stranger looks at Cansino for a few moments, in a mixture of disbelief, respect, and something not entirely human.  Then, he stands, and slowly walks out of the bar.

Cansino would have thought nothing of it, had he not caught a glimpse of a pair of golden wings beneath the heavy cloak.