>Be Evan.

>Jason's driving him home from school. It's Jason's senior year, and he's just had his last day of classes.

>It's a Friday.

>Today, Jason is the happiest Evan has seen him since they were kids.

>They're almost back to the sub when Jason turns to Evan.

>Hey, have you seen the Hill yet, and the God's Eye?

>No, what's that?

>It's this quarry up by the GM proving grounds. Past Kensington. It's beautiful.

>No, never even heard of it, Evan says.

>I gotta show you.

>Jason takes a detour down Peer Road, tears down 12 Mile and makes a right on Rushton where it turns to dirt.

>They ride Rushton until it curves east and turns to from dirt to pavement again. Jason takes a left at a blinking stoplight near an industrial compound, drives up Kensington Road. He passes Island Lake, over 96, passes Kensington's west entrance.

>Eventually the road begins to slope up and up and up, past farmhouses and woodland.

>Evan's ears pop as they ascend.

>I had no idea this was here, he says.

>Yeah, me neither, I just found it this year.

>Up ahead, the road levels out on top of the hill, and there's an immense cellular tower, a skeletal sentinel of a structure, standing a hundred and fifty feet high, at least. A cluster of fin-shaped censors comprises its summit.

>See the tower there, says Jason. You can see it from our sub division, you can see it from freaking Wixom Road over by Target, from Brighton, from inside Kensington, from that park built on the dump near the Five Corners, from like, freaking everywhere.

>What kind of tower is it?

>Just a radio tower or something. You can see it from everywhere.

> Jason does a fast illegal u-turn. He comes to a stop on the western shoulder, facing south, on a worn out patch of dirt where many other cars have stopped.

> To their right, there's an old chainlink fence, sealed shut with a padlock. Through it Evan could see the land to the west, laid out before them like a carpet.

>Come on, check it out, says Jason.

>He gets out of the car and Evan follows him. The air is warm and smells like wildflowers. Jason crawls through a hole torn in the fence to the right of the padlocked gates, the chainlinks all bunched up on the ground from people stepping on them.

>Evan follows and the two of them stand on the grassy edge. It's probably five hundred feet to the bottom of the hill. The slope is covered with grass and small brush and small trees.

>They are overlooking a vast quarry, in the middle of which is a reservoir with a steam shovel stooped in its center.

>I had no idea there was anything like this around here, says Evan again.

>Yeah, says Jason. Highest point in Livingston County.

>The white bulb of the Brighton water tower and the red MJR movie theater marquee are visible in the distance, small enough to fit into a dime.

>Communication towers blink on and off all along the horizon.

>The day is quiet and breezy and warm. Birds sing.

>Evan and Jason inhale the late spring air and take it all in.

>The giant cell tower Jason mentioned is off to their right, up on top of the hill, farther up the road.

>Yeah, you can see that thing from everywhere, Jason, says, pointing. It's why they call it the God's Eye.

>Who calls it the God's Eye?

>Me.

>Why the God's Eye?

>Cause it sees all.

>Evan feels young and amazingly alive.

>The great distance before him makes him feel like he's a part of all things. It's comforting. He wants to wrap his arms around it all.

>The God's Eye, he thinks, looking at the tower on the top of the hill.

>It's got two white lights at night," said Jason. One in the middle and one up top. I'll show it to you tonight if I remember.

>They soak in the scenery for a few more wordless moments.

>We'd better get going, says Jason. Don't tell anyone about this place or there'll be too many people coming up here.

>Evan takes one last look at the view and makes a note to come up here some other time, at a sunset or something.

>He and Jason crawl back through the hole in the fence and are gone.