Aissaba half-hoped that the twins would exit the bathroom while the Master of Life was still making small talk. Would be fun to see their horrified faces. (Why do kids even like me? thought Aissaba.) But a green-robed fourteen year old ran down the hallway to inform the Master that someone had made their eyeballs go inside their head and that the boys were doing something inappropriate inside their pants.

The Master of Life sighed a symphony and trundled off with the girl skipping ahead. Language pebble back on her forehead, Aissaba caught Cassandra saying, “Mom said they can’t make us stay if we don’t want to.”

Aissaba locked eyes with Tassadu.

“What if they can, though?” said Orion.

“Then we don’t,” said Cassandra. “We run.”

“Or we go all ‘dad’ on them,” said Orion. He made pew pew noises, probably slinging finger guns like a cowboy. “Map pebbles are sick!”

This was not good.

Tassadu didn’t even need to use the secret language. Sometimes, you just knew what he was thinking. The crestfallen droop of his face told her everything. They were about to fail. At the Fortress’s easiest job. Because the Johnsons were insane. Probably the parents too.

“Stick together, and watch each other’s backs,” said Cassandra, in her dad voice.

“Magpie,” said Orion.

Aissaba got the impression they were doing a secret handshake because, Cassandra replied, “Goldfinch.” Then, they both said “Woooooood. Pecker!” at the same time – loud enough that she didn’t need the language pebble to hear it. The slap of an epic high five also reached them in the hallway.

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A moment later, they emerged.

“Did you wash your hands?” said Tassadu.

“Duh,” said Orion.

“How much time is left in the tour?” inquired Cassandra.

Aissaba gritted her teeth. She considered screaming: “You kids understand that there’s magic up here? Like… REAL magic. Why would you want to go back to Montana and bird clocks and 3pm Spanish?” Instead, because she was (apparently) “good with kids,” she politely replied, “We’re on the Hall of Life. Above this is the Hall of Mind, then the Hall of Language.”

“Oh, I get it!” said Orion. “Cool magic system! Better than Narnia.” He didn’t say it like an asshole, but Aissaba did get the sense that he already knew the system, or something about it. Had he just inferred it, though? Tassadu had alluded to the system’s origins in the ancient world building practices of the Fortress. It wasn’t hard to put it all together: Start with a map, add life, sprinkle it with minds, add a dash of language – and bam! You have a world.

The kids were certainly smart enough to deduce it. But Cassandra’s words were still echoing in Aissaba’s mind: “Mom said they can’t make us stay if we don’t want to.” Aissaba found herself wanting very much to know more about Mrs. Johnson. (Mother: New Age spiritualist, novelist, yoga instructor, crystal enthusiast, believes in the law of attraction.)

Had their mother been to the Fortress before? As a card-carrying member of the Fortress Fuckups, Aissaba knew quite well that Fortress dwellers could get sent back to Earth. She and Tassadu were safe – on account of being good with kids. But it was pretty common for their nightly parties to involve toasts to “those who have passed on” – former Fuckups whose minds had been scrubbed clean by the Master of Mind.

Officially discharged.

Back to Earth.

To be normal.

As Tassadu led them down the hallway, walking backwards and giving the usual monologue, Aissaba tried her best to communicate her current theory to Tassadu with facial expressions and gestures. Whenever Orion or Cassandra happened to glance back, she cut it out. Smiled so fast it broke the sound barrier.

Just get them to the next Hall, Aissaba said with a wrinkle of the nose, a twitch of the shoulder, and a sniff. I want to try something.