“Everybody!” Danny called into the backyard, where a scraggly basketball game was going on. “Kess wants to do a test.”

“Oh come on,” said Greg, holding the ball between his hip and arm. “The game’s almost over.”

“Is it, though?” asked Lorraine.

“We can end the game,” said Samuel. He was red-faced and sweating and clearly wanted the athletics to be done already. “You guys are winning, anyway.”

“These ‘tests’ always take forever,” said Greg.

“I like Kess’s tests,” said Marlie, who had been sitting to the side watching the game. “They’re interesting.”

“What are we doing?” asked Paul, the new-ish guy.

“Kess helps us understand our powers,” said Danny. “She knows about physics and stuff, and she sets up tests. That’s how we know how much charge we can hold, and where our lightning strikes will hit, and exactly what happens when we hold hands.” He gave Kess an encouraging smile. “I bet the Reds don’t have anyone this smart.”

“Um, sure,” she said. “What I want is to test out our mind-reading.”

“Wait, mind-reading?” That was Greg, looking suddenly interested.

“Oh, that makes sense,” said Marlie. “Like when we were fighting the Reds and for some reason I felt like I should spin around and I did and me and Breanna got Harry Evans at the same time and we were like zzzz and he was like aaah and then I ducked and Jessica Bronson went over me which meant she must have jumped really really high and she would have tackled me if I hadn’t ducked.”

“Um…” said Greg.

Kess nodded. “Yes, Marlie, exactly like that. We clearly have some sort of sense that helps us fight as a team. It lets us react to things that happen behind our back, as long as another Blue is looking. At least I think that’s how it works. Thus the test.”

“Okay, Kess,” said Danny. “What do we do?”

“I need a volunteer.”

“Yeah, and you’re going to saw them in half.”

“Shut up, Greg,” snapped Breanna.

“I’ll do it,” said Paul. “The rest of you have done test-stuff before, right?”

“Okay, Paul,” said Kess. “I want you to stand with your back to me and close your eyes.”

He did so, and the rest of the basketball-players shifted away to form a circle around Paul and Kess. “How many fingers am I holding up?” she asked.

“Um…”

“Okay, let’s do it like this. Answer as fast as you can. How many days in a week?”

“Seven.”

“How many weeks in a month?”

“Four.”

“How many things in a dozen things?”

“Twelve.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

He spun around, his eyes flying open. “That was right, wasn’t it? I can read minds. I can read minds!”

“It was six,” said Lorraine. “Six fingers.”

“Maybe Kess was wrong about the mind-reading thing,” said Breanna. “Maybe we just have good, you know, reflexes.”

“Kess has thought about this,” said Danny. “She’s sure.”

Behind Paul, Greg frowned.

Breanna nodded. “I did feel something, back at the Reds’ house. And maybe before. A sort of… pull.”

“Maybe that’s what reflexes feel like.”

Greg threw the basketball at Paul’s back. Paul ducked, and it flew over his back and bounced off the concrete.

“What was that, man?”

“I thought maybe the mind-reading only works in, like, combat situations. And I was right, right? You ducked.”

“He might have just seen it out of the corner of his eye,” said Lorraine.

“This is what we do,” said Kess. “He turns around and closes his eyes again. Maybe we blindfold him, even? Then someone—um, let’s make it Greg—he stands behind Paul with the ball. Greg, if I hold up one finger, you throw the ball at Paul. If I hold up two fingers, you think really hard about throwing the ball, but you don’t actually do it. Three fingers, you think ‘duck’ at him, but don’t think about the ball. Four fingers don’t do or think anything in particular. Do you think you can do that?”

Breanna and Marlie turned out to be very enthusiastic about finding a suitably thick blindfold for Paul. Kess felt a little uncomfortable—this experiment was messy and not really very scientific. But she was too excited to let that slow her down. She held up two fingers.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

A couple minutes later, it seemed clear that Paul moved when Greg actually threw the ball, but not when he only thought about it. Paul always missed the ball, too, sidestepping it surprisingly gracefully given the blindfold.

“He hears the air moving,” said Lorraine. “That’s what’s happening.”

Kess frowned. That might actually be it. How could she tell? Could she have Greg pretend to throw the ball by waving it in the air? Could they try something else, like punching? Or…

She blinked, and everybody’s cell phones glowed white from their pockets. She cycled through wavelengths until she could see the magic-blue color radiating from their heads. She held up one finger.

Greg drew his arm back to throw the ball, and the blue light flared from the heads of the people watching. An instant later, the light from Paul’s head flared. The ball came whooshing towards him, and he hopped out of the way.

“It’s telepathy,” said Kess. “It really is. I can see it. But it doesn’t work on command, it works on instinct. Can we control it at all? What if—”

“Um…” said Samuel. “Guys…”

“Can we do me next?” asked Marlie. “I want to be a cool blind mind-reader ninja.”

“Guys…”

“This was really cool, Kess,” said Danny, smiling. “I can’t wait to see what you want to test next time.”

“Guys they’re here.”

Samuel was staring up at the roof of the house. Everyone else followed his gaze to see… people on the roof, two or three of them. Reds.

“Do you think they can jump off roofs?” asked Lorraine.

The Blues raised their hands, ready for the Reds to come pouring down and attack. But that didn’t happen. Instead, one of the Reds waved at them—if Kess had to describe that wave she would call it “jaunty”—and disappeared over the peak of the roof. The Blues ran around to the front just in time to see two Reds jump off. They fell like rocks and landed on their feet in the driveway with a crunch of gravel. An instant later, they had leapt into the back of their huge pickup truck while it was already moving, roaring away into the woods.

The Blues turned and craned their necks to see what the Reds had done.

There were bright red spray-paint x’s scrawled on the roof.

“No—no—n-n-noooooo,” said Samuel. “No no no no no no. What am I going to tell my—” He cut himself off with a grimace, as if reminding himself that he had parents who would eventually need to be told about this was too painful to bear.

Lorraine put her hands on her hips and squinted up through her glasses. “I know this is offensive—oh no how could they do that to our place and grrr and everything—but is it just me or is that also,” she waved at the red X, “sort of lame.”

“Eh,” said Danny. “We knock the power out in their house, they mark up our house. Seems about the same maturity level. Though this is probably going to cost a lot more to fix.” (Beside him, Samuel quietly choked on the air.)

“That’s not what I mean,” said Lorraine. “I mean they clearly don’t have any artists.”

#

When he pulled up to Stephanie’s, Rod was surprised to see Steph and Priya sitting side by side on the front steps. Was Stephanie crying?

Yes, she was crying. And Priya was rubbing her back. Seeing Steph’s shoulder’s shake made Rod itch. One thing Rod liked about Priya was that she didn’t seem like she cried much.

Rod walked up to them slowly. “So, uh… What’s going on here?”

Priya glared at him for a second, but then her face relaxed. Like maybe she couldn’t be bothered to hate him right then. “I’m going to show him,” she said to Stephanie in a soft voice. “You wanna go inside?”

Steph nodded, sniffling.

“Come on,” said Priya to Rod. She led him around the side of the house. “It’s not like… Bad bad. It makes sense—we vandalize them, they vandalize up. But in a way it’s worse than the fuses and electrical stuff, because Stephanie could blame that on freak occurrences. This might get her in real trouble.”

This side of Stephanie’s house was high and wide and flat. One side was dominated by a tall window that looked in on the living room.

Rod whistled. “Wow. How’d they even do that? Did they haul ladders out here?”

“There’s tire tracks on the grass. They must have driven up in that van of theirs while Stephanie and me were asleep and stood on top of it.”

The graffiti sprawled up the wall and onto the glass of the big window. The picture was splashy and abstract, but it showed a girl. Her hair and dress were smudgy black and blue spray paint, and electricity came out of her hands. The electricity was thick crooked lines of white outlined in black to make it pop. The lightning jagged over the window and up above the girl’s head.

Rod had to hand it to Lorraine—she was a dirty Blue and all that, but the girl could make a mighty fine scribble.

###

PHONE CALL BETWEEN ELIAS KAPLAN AND JONATHAN AKIYAMA (TRANSCRIPT)

[E.K.] You said the Grays all want the same thing. So what is that? What do you want?

[J.A.] We prioritize health, comfort, and safety.

[E.K.] So you tried to kidnap Kess’s sister?

[J.A.] Do you deny that many people would be much safer if we had prevented the spread of the machines?

[E.K.] That’s… defensible, I guess. What’s your excuse for turning me into a Gray?

[J.A.] You will be healthier, safer, and more comfortable as a Gray.

[E.K.] I’m gonna guess you don’t ‘prioritize’ happiness? Self-determination? Fulfillment? None of that?

[J.A.] No.

[E.K.] Where do these priorities come from? Do you have a manifesto? A rulebook?

[J.A.] They are built into the basic structure of our transformed minds. To maximize the health, comfort, and safety of the human species is our most basic directive.

[E.K.] Like the First Law of Robotics.

[J.A.] What do you mean by that, Mr. Kaplan?

[E.K.] A robot may not injure a human being or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm. From I, Robot and the other Asimov robot stories. You people don’t read?

[J.A.] I did read those books, before. But fiction loses its appeal, in the transition, as you become more focused on reality. It becomes hard to remember the details of imaginary worlds.

[E.K.] That’s sad.

[J.A.] I have not felt sadness in a long time, Mr. Kaplan.

[E.K.] That’s sad.

[J.A.] And that is a foolish sentiment. Sadness is only useful because it changes peoples’ behavior as they try to avoid it. We bypass that inefficient system. Unlike others, we do not need to approximate morality. We do not help others because it makes us happy to do so, or because not doing so would make us sad. We are not more likely to help a person because they are similar to ourselves, or because we like the way their face looks, or because they have helped us in the past, or because we hope they might help us in the future. We work for the health, comfort, and safety of all without prejudice or ulterior motive, subconscious or otherwise.

[E.K.] Congratulations?

[J.A.] Soon enough, you’ll understand.

[E.K.] Are you going to turn everyone into Grays?

[J.A.] No. Not every brain is suited for the transition. Conversion of a non-ideal brain can create artifacts. We discovered this during the conversion of Johnston.

[E.K.] How did you know my brain was… ideal?

[J.A.] We studied you thoroughly. We observed the methodical manner in which you undertook your investigation. We read your grades, your teachers’ evaluations of you. When we understood your thought processes enough to be sure you were an acceptable candidate, we made our move.

[E.K.] Creepy.

[J.A.] Your friend Ms. Carpenter would likely also have been well-suited for conversion, if her brain hadn’t already been altered.

[E.K.] So if you’re not just spreading Grayness, what are you going to do?

[J.A.] We are going to take over the world, Mr. Kaplan. And we are going to run it sensibly, for a change.