No one was particularly surprised when Orion swallowed the pebble. It turned out that the only additional assurance he needed was that his ascension to Level 2 would be “like, right away” and that the pebble wouldn’t “just get pooped right out.” He was a simple boy, needing only instant gratification without any risk of having to tell Dad that there was a rock stuck in the toilet.

Upon being informed that the pebble’s magic had been carefully crafted to handle both concerns, he swallowed it with a cup of water provided by the Master of Mind. For a few seconds, Cassandra held out some hope that he had secretly palmed the pebble. But no.

Pebble to his forehead, he said, “Cassie, you have to see this. All the spell slots are full!” He wasted no time turning one of his mind pebbles into an illusion of a snake and tossing it at her.

She flinched and, to her own dismay, let out a small scream. It landed in her lap, hissing and feeling exactly as heavy as a baby python ought to feel. The illusion was so real that she wondered if she had been mistaken about it being a mind pebble. Maybe it was life magic.

But then the illusion faded, leaving only a gray pebble in her lap. Her skin still crawled and her heart still pounded – nothing illusory about fear, nor the heebie-jeebies.

“Give it back, please,” said Orion, holding out his hand. “She has to give it back, right?”

The Masters just smiled thinly at him. “Why would she have to do that?” said the Master of Language.

Orion’s shoulders slumped. His slightly diminished hoard glowed in front of him on the table. One by one, he began placing the pebbles into various pockets – eyeing Cassandra suspiciously. She rolled her eyes and slid the pebble across the table to him.

“Hey, thanks!” he said. “I really appreciate you giving my things back to me.”

Cassandra just nodded and smiled, her usual treatment when Orion got tilted. Playing Sega with him was almost impossible these days – insufferable when he lost, and even worse when he was winning.

The only consolation was that from the moment he swallowed the pebble, Cassandra noticed a subtle shift in the way the Masters were treating him. Fewer pebbles slid in his direction. The Master of Mind even told him that “every increase in level necessitates an increase in maturity and responsibility,” news which (to Cassandra’s shock) Orion took with a surprising amount of both qualities. Maybe the gamification had some merit.

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The Master of Mind led Orion away, to a remote part of the library, for “special Level 2 training.” As he left, Orion was so busy listening to the Master’s stern warnings about keeping pebble magic a secret that he didn’t even bother to cast a smug look over his shoulder.

When he was gone, the Master of Language gave a sigh of relief. “You, Cassandra, have the patience of a saint.” He produced a blue pebble and placed it in front of her. “Look, you and I both know that the game is more for Orion than for you. That pebble in his stomach isn’t so much an ankle monitor. It’s the airbags in a car. The net under a trapeze artist.”

“How so?” said Cassandra, eyes on the one glowing in front of her.

“It’ll do its best to prevent pebble magic from working when it might be observed. And if he shows one of his pebbles to someone else, they won’t be able to see the glow. And, of course, it allows us to carefully protect the protocols available to him behind artificial walls like levels and XP – which are merely abstractions of his maturity and responsibility.”

“So the one he swallowed…” said Cassandra, “...it’s like the control node for a network? It configures the pebbles around it?”

“Exactly!” he said. “We can’t afford to let pebble magic to propagate on Earth, but we need to let the two of you have it. See the trouble you’ve caused? Like I said, I have a whole team working on this.”

He wasn’t mean about it, but Cassandra blushed anyway. “So what happens if I don’t swallow it?”

***

“They need us,” said Aissaba. “They already got Orion to swallow a relay pebble. They’re establishing some kind of educational pebble network.” It didn’t sound so bad when she put it that way, but she knew that Tassadu would get it. But when he just looked into the depths of the stairwell, though, she felt compelled to add, “They’re clearly using their psychiatric profiles to manipulate them. Just like they did to us.”

However, from the way Tassadu inhaled, she could already tell that the air entering his lungs was going to come back out as arguments shaped by the Devil’s advocate within him. “Thing is,” he said, “we might not get this chance again.”

The lights flickered in agreement. Aissaba’s heart sank.

“But I have an idea,” he said. “Does Cassandra still have the pebble with the TSO-duh?”

***

Cassandra had the sudden feeling that she was being manipulated, every bit as much as Orion was. And the realization wasn’t just because she'd just heard Aissaba mention something about “psychiatric profiles” but also because it was obvious. As the Master of Language watched her, she pretended to ponder the matter, though she was, in fact, listening to Tassadu’s plan. As it unfolded in a stairwell infinitely far away, Cassandra had to fight her own smile.

“Can I bring it home and think about it?” she finally said.

The Master of Mind blurred at the edges, even as his smile remained pasted directly below his potato. “Of course,” he said. “But don’t wait too long. From what we can tell, your grandfather doesn’t have much longer.”

This punched her in the gut so hard that she almost picked up the pebble and swallowed it right there. Trembling, she placed it in her pocket and said, “Just give me until midnight.”