Descartes looked at Noah calmly.
"Do you know what you are, Youngest?" Descartes asked. "Not your titles. Those are decoration. I mean the rare thing. The thing that makes an old creature like me cross a threshold to look at you."
Noah met the deep eyes and said nothing.
"You are one of the few who wants to change the shape of things." Descartes clasped his hands behind his back.
"That is rarer than you would believe. Existence is vast beyond any counting, and it is packed corner to corner with the mighty, and almost none of them want anything more than a larger portion of exactly what already is. A deeper cage. A higher rung. A wider vineyard. They climb and they climb, and not one in a billion ever lifts his head to ask whether the ladder should exist at all."
