An alien retires to Earth, to a quiet life along a Florida riverbank, where no one suspects that the gentle old man in their midst is something other than what he appears. He has lived among humans for years, forbidden to intervene in their lives by the laws of his own kind, yet unable to turn away from the small, persistent temptations that proximity to human suffering creates. He possesses a device of staggering power: a Box that can duplicate anything, multiply food, perhaps heal what ails. But to use it would be to reveal himself, and revealment means capture. Shaara builds his novella around a single, aching question: what kind of孤独 exists for someone who is surrounded by life but cannot participate in it? The children's affection becomes Jell's only tether to joy, and when a young girl faces death, he must choose between his safety and her survival. The result is a quiet, devastating meditation on what we owe to each other, and what it costs to be different.
