Another excerpt from “Scale”: Meet Reyneart

Reyneart posed a different sort of headache. When Moon had first arrived, she had been wary of technology; Sun also shied away from the strange items of Terra.
Rey was the exact opposite. He found his way into everything.
When he wasn’t prying the phone apart, he was opening each box in the cupboard; he absolutely refused to accept the brightly colored circles called “Froot Loops” as edible. Electricity astounded him; Frank and Ronni took turns following him to turn off lights in his wake. He fiddled with the stereo, shaking the walls more than once. He spent two hours trying to determine where the light went when the refrigerator door was shut. He stuck anything of a size into sockets, and no amount of voltage dissuaded him from that habit until he grew bored. If Frank or Moon were busy, he stole the opportunity to place a variety of objects in the microwave, fascinated at how it heated within moments with no apparent flame.
One carton of eggs, a melted pudding cup, and four smoking soda bottles later, Frank vowed it was the last straw. Moon threatened to freeze Reyneart solid if he laid hands upon the machine again. Two other incidents involved indoor plumbing.
Only the grace of the gods kept him from getting behind the television.
He nearly went berserk the first time he glanced out the window and caught sight of Manhattan. From eight stories up, it seemed the most exciting place in the Worlds. He was manic to get outside and see the loud, stinking metal dragons that clogged the smooth stone trails.
Only his loyalty to Azzie kept him indoors.