There was no doubt about it; he was going to miss the desert. He had become quite accustomed to the stark scenery that lay out his window. He remembered when he first came here - just a few years back - that the change in landscape had been quite a shock. Most of his life had been spent on an island. He was used to being surrounded by water, not by sand. It didn't take long for him to adjust though. He came to realize that there really wasn't much difference between the sea and the desert. In his mind's eye they were both miles and miles of magnificent desolation. You ventured far enough into either one and you would find yourself utterly alone, just you against the elements. Not exactly something to venture into unprepared, he thought to himself. He had wandered into the desert on a couple of occasions. He felt that it cleared his mind. He had done the same thing back on the island - except, of course, that required a boat of some sort if you really wanted to venture far from the shore, which was what he liked to do. You needed no boat in the desert. He liked that. It was just you and the desert. Now, however, he had to leave it. There were matters abroad that needed tending to.

"America," he said to his reflection in the mirror. "I should have known."

The face that stared back at him was thin and long. The brown, leathery skin pulled tightly over his sharp features looked worn and weathered. His cold, silvery eyes were like beams of light.

"Yes, I should have known," he repeated to himself and then produced a comb from the vanity drawer. Straight back over his high forehead was the way he liked to brush his shiny, black hair.

"If it is what I think it is..." He nodded in approval at himself. "Yes, I know, you are thinking the same thing I am, aren't you? This has unforeseen possibilities, immeasurable probabilities. We could very well be on the verge of something extraordinary. Yes...yes."

He inserted the comb in a pocket within the suitcase that lay open on a chair next to the vanity. Returning to the mirror, he adjusted his suit.

"Just one more thing," he said, smiling at himself.

From a hidden cubbyhole at the back of the closet, he retrieved a small box. He was just about to put it in the suitcase when he changed his mind.

"A quick peek before putting it away," he told his reflective counterpart and then put the box on the vanity.

The box looked like a miniature treasure chest. Pulling out a small gold key from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he opened it. There was a smaller box inside it, which he pulled out. This one didn't look anything like a treasure chest. It was fairly thin and rectangular. He ran his long, bony fingers around the four narrower edges of the box. He closed his eyes searching for the pressure points. When he had found all four, he pressed them all simultaneously.

"Ah-hah!" he exclaimed as the box snapped open.

Lying all curled up inside it was a thick, long lock of black hair. There were two bands - one on each end - that were holding it together. He grasped the lock by one of the bands and picked it up. He held it up admiringly. It was very long. He wrapped it several times around his hand and then made a fist. Then he buried his face within the hair. With a deep inhale, he sucked in its aroma. It reminded him of the ocean. I will be passing over it soon, he thought.

"I will pass over it like the wind," he said, turning his attention once again to his reflection in the mirror. "In a giant, metal bird I will pass over its vast surface and not once will its water touch my flesh." The two smiled at each other. "Our journey begins. It is the truth that we seek... and once we have found the truth, and only then, will we know how to use it." Their smile broadened but it never reached their cold, penetrating stare.