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Kynes
pushed
himself
to
his
knees
,
heard
a
bird
screech
,
the
hurried
flapping
of
wings
.
This
is
spice
desert
,
he
thought
.
There
must
be
Fremen
about
even
in
the
day
sun
.
Surely
they
can
see
the
birds
and
will
investigate
.
“
Movement
across
the
landscape
is
a
necessity
for
animal
life
,
”
his
father
said
.
“
Nomad
peoples
follow
the
same
necessity
.
Lines
of
movement
adjust
to
physical
needs
for
water
,
food
,
minerals
.
We
must
control
this
movement
now
,
align
it
for
our
purposes
.
”
“
Shut
up
,
old
man
,
”
Kynes
muttered
.
“
We
must
do
a
thing
on
Arrakis
never
before
attempted
for
an
entire
planet
,
”
his
father
said
.
“
We
must
use
man
as
a
constructive
ecological
force
—
inserting
adapted
terraform
life
:
a
plant
here
,
an
animal
there
,
a
man
in
that
place
—
to
transform
the
water
cycle
,
to
build
a
new
kind
of
landscape
.
”
“
Shut
up
!
”
Kynes
croaked
.
“
It
was
lines
of
movement
that
gave
us
the
first
clue
to
the
relationship
between
worms
and
spice
,
”
his
father
said
.
A
worm
,
Kynes
thought
with
a
surge
of
hope
.
A
maker
’
s
sure
to
come
when
this
bubble
bursts
.
But
I
have
no
hooks
.
How
can
I
mount
a
big
maker
without
hooks
?
He
could
feel
frustration
sapping
what
little
strength
remained
to
him
.
Water
so
near
—
only
a
hundred
meters
or
so
beneath
him
;
a
worm
sure
to
come
,
but
no
way
to
trap
it
on
the
surface
and
use
it
.
