We ignore the blackness of outer space and pay attention to the stars, 
especially if they seem to order themselves into constellations. "Common as 
the air" meant something worthless, but Hackworth knew that every breath of 
air that Fiona drew, lying in her little bed at night, just a silver glow in 
the moonlight, was used by her body to make skin and hair and bones. The air 
became Fiona, and deserving—no, demanding—of love. Ordering 
matter was the sole endeavor of Life, whether it was a jumble of 
self-replicating molecules in the primordial ocean, or a steam-powered English 
mill turning weeds into clothing, or Fiona lying in her bed turning air into 
Fiona.