On Yadyniar, a small lush planet third from the star in a solar system not unlike our own, water is turned on its head. Damp days start as glistening concrete, fleck-speckled grass, before the clouds break through the pale sunlight and the uppours begin. Yadyniarians, reaching bleary-eyed around shower curtains, are stung not by cold spray from above but by an upward attack, square in the face. Geysers are unremarkable. Rivers start in gaping estuaries and spin their way into hills and mountains, giving more and more of themselves to the land until, drawn out, they put themselves to bed.