The eavesdropping pebble. Aissaba could tell from Tassadu’s horrified expression that it had been left in Cassandra’s pocket. But big deal? It was one pebble – flashed with a single protocol.

“Theoretically,” said Aissaba, “what might happen if they did manage to pilfer a pebble?”

“Just one?” said her mother.

“This is all theoretical,” said Aissaba.

Her mother seemed to be calculating something deep – down to the quantum level. When she came back, she said, “No idea. But I’d recommend not mentioning it to the Masters.” She gave them both a meaningful look. “Tell the truth about everything else – just not that.”

***

Cassandra had finally stopped shaking. Orion seemed to be doing better too. They stood apart from the other kids in their colorful scarves and jackets. Like two magpies watching a flock of rainbow parrots.

Too many colors. Too much noise. Too much jabbering at each other's faces and at phone screens. Too much posting to social media: the bus, the tree, their bruises, their smeared makeup, their tittering laughter, their dumb thoughts.

Cassandra pulled her arms inside her jacket to calm down. Then, she shoved her hands into the pockets mom had sewn into the flannel underneath.

There was something inside one of them. A small rock. Weird. Maybe Orion had put it there this morning.

Orion stiffened and pointed. A humvee was just cresting the icy hill. Unlike the bus, which hadn’t quite made it down the hill, this vehicle’s tires were military-grade and wrapped in snow chains. It crushed the ice as it came.

“How’d he get here so fast?” Orion hissed. “We called Mom like thirty seconds ago.”

Cassandra suddenly remembered the way Mom had announced over waffles that they were to attend public school today. No warning. No preparation the night before. In spite of their protests, they’d been commanded to put on jackets and walk to the bus stop.

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“What about 3pm Spanish?” Orion had asked.

“Stop arguing with your mom,” Dad had replied from behind a newspaper.

And now he was here. Before the police, before the fire trucks, before any of the school officials that the bus driver had called.

The pebble in her pocket seemed warm to the touch – very warm, as if it were producing its own heat.

***

The Master of Language led them cordially enough through his domain. He adored Earth language, culture, and technology – so stepping into the Hall of Language was like being teleported to Earth.

To understand Earth, you must truly immerse yourself, he was fond of saying.

The open floorplan of the massive computer lab was the same as when they’d studied here – but the computers had been upgraded in the past year. He always kept them in sync with Earth’s state of the art. Scribes worked in pods of desks or in cubicles, tapping away at keyboards or holding pebbles to their foreheads. It was hard to tell if they were doing research, running payroll, maintaining the Fortress wifi, or watching Earth television shows.

Information is an invisible river, he was fond of saying. From mind, to mind, to mind.

Aissaba and Tassadu shuffled past the cubicle where the Head Scribe of Recruitment Payroll sat. It was where they went at the end of every workday to receive their payment in pebbles. But today, they passed without stopping.

They exited the large room and found themselves in a sector filled with offices and meeting rooms that could easily have been the headquarters of any large corporation on Earth. Different rooms were decorated according to different cultures, and the one where they ended up was a small slice of Japan. Tatami mats, shoji screens, paper lanterns, and a low wooden table on a raised platform.

“You seem nervous,” said the Master of Language, indicating that they should feel free to avail themselves of the zabuton cushions. “Let me assure you that we are already quite confident that the fault lies with your boss – former Head Scribe of Recruitment Tours. It seems he chose to circumvent the lottery protocol and hand-selected the Johnson twins for today’s recruitment. We are questioning him in the next room to determine whether he was acting alone and what his motives and objectives might be. As long as we find you’ve acted with wisdom and virtue, you have nothing to worry about.”

Aissaba’s mother gave them a reassuring nod as she followed the Master of Language out.

(Blink: She was in the backseat of a humvee, Orion next to her. Mom and Dad were in the front, saying nothing. The windshield wipers swatted fresh snow flakes to either side. From her pocket she withdrew a pebble, saw that it was glowing blue, and shoved it back where it came from.)

Aissaba felt like she was going to be sick. Tassadu actually barfed.