Mike 's grandfather hovered over him, his cracked lips forming an agonized "O". Throughout that long period, all he could hear was the world's imperceptible heartbeat. Mike wasn't ready for the other sounds his grandfather claimed could be heard further out in the desert. When Mike was twelve years old, he started riding his bike to his grandfather's house every Saturday. Grandad's house was overflowing with projects, electrical devices, taxidermy, yellowing charts on the walls, dusty books, art supplies, and specimens in filthy jars. Mike benefited from his parents' concern for him.