The day was overcast and damp, even a little raw, but it was pleasant to encounter weather of any sort. The gusting wind through the Thicket park wasn’t "fresh air" exactly—the air of East Texas was considerably less fresh than the manicured air inside the Collaboratory—but it had a wide-screen smell, the reek of a world that possessed horizons. Besides, the picnickers had Fontenot’s big portable gas stove to keep them warm. Fontenot had just bought the stove, well used, from the proprietor of a Cajun boucherie in Mamou. The stove was made of disassembled oil barrels, heat-scorched tin sheeting, and brassnozzled propane burners. It looked as if it had been welded into shape by Mardi Gras drunks.