Aldebaran is sixty-five light years away. The Pleiades are four hundred and forty. They are not near each other. They are not near each other in any sense — not in space, not in age, not in composition, and their light arrives on the same night only because you are standing in a particular place at a particular century.

The bull requires you to discard the depth. That is the operation: take a three-dimensional scatter with no structure, delete one axis, and read the residue as a figure.

Move a hundred light years in any direction and the bull is not there. Not obscured — not there, in the way a word is not there in a language that lacks it.

And yet somebody assembled it, and had a reason, and the reason survived four thousand years and a dozen language families and is still used to schedule planting in places where the constellation no longer rises on the right date, because of precession, which nobody has told the calendar.

A pattern with no patterner, that does real agricultural work, in a shape that exists at exactly one address in the universe. That is not a curiosity. That is the standard specification for everything in this lattice, including the lattice.