navigation

First thing we did was circle back and pick up the gear that Fang and I had stashed before we’d been caught in the desert. Then we flew through the cold night air, north, and then northeast. I can’t explain how I know where to go—it’s like I have an internal compass or something. At the School, when we were little, they’d done tons of experiments searching for our magnetism sensors, which tell us where magnetic north is.
They didn’t find them.

Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports, Chapter 56


One of the other ones spoke up. “Tell us about your sense of direction. How does it work?” They all looked at me expectantly.
“Well, it’s like I have a GPS inside me,” I told them. “One of the talking ones. I tell it where I want to go, and it tells me, Go twenty miles, turn left, take Exit Ninety-four, and so on. It can be pretty bossy, frankly.”
Their eyes widened. “Really?” said one.
“No, you idiot,” I said in disgust. “I don’t know how it works. I just know it has an unfailing ability to point me in the opposite direction of a bunch of boneheads.”

Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports, Chapter 101