Star, Bright By MARK CLIFTON [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction July 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] There is no past or future, the children said; it all just IS! They had every reason to know! _Friday--June 11th_ At three years of age, a little girl shouldn't have enough functioning intelligence to cut out and paste together a Moebius Strip. Or, if she did it by accident, she surely shouldn't have enough reasoning ability to pick up one of her crayons and carefully trace the continuous line to prove it has only one surface. And if by some strange coincidence she did, and it was still just an accident, how can I account for this generally active daughter of mine--and I do mean _active_--sitting for a solid half hour with her chin cupped in her hand, staring off into space, thinking with such concentration that it was almost painful to watch? I was in my reading chair, going over some work. Star was sitting on the floor, in the circle of my light, with her blunt-nosed scissors and her scraps of paper. Her long silence made me glance down at her as she was taping the two ends of the paper together. At that point I thought it was an accident that she had given a half twist to the paper strip before joining the circle. I smiled to myself as she picked it up in her chubby fingers. "A little child forms the enigma of the ages," I mused. But instead of throwing the strip aside, or tearing it apart as any other child would do, she carefully turned it over and around--studying it from all sides. Then she picked up one of her crayons and began tracing the line. She did it as though she were substantiating a conclusion already reached! It was a bitter confirmation for me. I had been refusing to face it for a long time, but I could ignore it no longer. Star was a High I.Q. For half an hour I watched her while she sat on the floor, one knee bent under her, her chin in her hand, unmoving. Her eyes were wide with wonderment, looking into the potentialities of the phenomenon she had found. It has been a tough struggle, taking care of her since my wife's death. Now this added problem. If only she could have been normally dull, like other children! * * * * * I made up my mind while I watched her. If a child is afflicted, then let's face it, she's afflicted. A parent must teach her to compensate. At least she could be prepared for the bitterness I'd known. She could learn early to take it in stride.