"The lens of fear magnifies the size of uncertainty." Charles R. Swindoll

Air was sucked in and expelled from inflated metallic cushions nestled within the undercarriage of the vehicle as if it was breathing. One of the security detail opened the door and gently nudged my shoulder. The vacant interior sparked a small flame of hope inside of me that they might leave me in peace to make this journey alone. Three faces appeared in the threshold of the door, dousing the flame before it had a chance to create heat. Denovo and Blue slid onto the seat on the opposite side of the vehicle, while Dovie took the spot seat next to me. Trapped, I couldn't help feeling as if I'd escaped one sacrificial blade only to have another pressed to my neck.

The craft lifted, hovered for a moment, then shot upwards with a shrill shriek. Chill air filled the cabin. Our upwards momentum stalled as we pierced a bank of clouds, hovering for a moment before proceeding on a lateral trajectory.

I could feel Denovo's gaze crawling over my skin, but I refused to meet his eyes.

"Piradium is below us," Dovie said, after a period of silence. "The building at the center is the Ministry." She nudged her chin at the window. From this elevation, the inspiration for the name was evident. Layers of circles divided the streets, which radiated like spokes from a black monolith at the center. It brought to mind a bullseye target, or hours spent in math class studying the concepts of pi and radius.

Denovo began to whistle as we made our descent. The tune triggered a memory, bringing to mind Saturday mornings spent on the farm with Grandma and Grandpa. "Casper the friendly ghost. The friendliest ghost you know," Denovo began to sing. Blue simpered apologetically, although there was a gleam in his eyes that made me think he found the whole situation hilarious.

Guards in gray uniforms quickly opened the doors, moments after we touched down, and removed Denovo. "Grown-ups don't understand why children all love him the most," he continued to sing as I burned holes through his back with my eyes.

Minister Dovie guided me past the central hub of the Ministry—a cylindrical shaped building with a domed roof like a grain silo, and rectangular sections positioned like points of a compass around the circular portion. We were followed down the corridor of one of the compass points by the sound of Dovie's shoes clicking on the black marble. Light from the crystal chandeliers sparkled against the inky walls. The only thing comforting about an empty hallway was knowing I wouldn't be forced to take a walk of shame. It would be nice to see one friendly face, even if it meant seeing a dozen unfriendly ones, especially if they'd pass a message to Gem. I didn't want to vanish, like Casper.

"You are a guest of the Ministry, not a prisoner. This is your room, not a cell. The woman that will be staying with you is your companion, not a guard," Dovie rattled off as we walked. It might have been better if she just threw me in the room, slammed the door in my face and kept her reassurances to herself. I couldn't believe a word that came out of her mouth. At least she left quickly.

Things could have been worse. Having a visible door already put this room a step above the one where Denovo had kept me, or the places where the Penitents had placed their detainees. The bed beat the cot Denovo had furnished my cage with, even after taking into account the fact that it was only a twin.

If it wasn't for the presence of the stern-looking woman serving as my companion, I might have been impressed with how comfortable the room appeared to be. She refused to provide me with her proper name, only compromising enough to allow me to call her Combi as a nickname for Companion B.

Her insistence upon this detachment gave me an unexpected glimmer hope. If she was instructing me to call her Companion B, it stood to reason that there also was a Companion A.

Time was a box of crayons melting in a pot on a stove set on low heat. Combi had told me not to expect visitors, for the same reason she'd forbidden any form of entertainment. She believed I shouldn't be allowed to have windows into the lives of Incepterrians. The double standard was infuriating: They could have almost unlimited access to knowledge of our world, while they believed we shouldn't know anything about them.

With only my thoughts to keep me busy during the long periods when Combi left me alone, memories of Daniel's face haunted me. My mind was a cacophony of memories—Casper's dark eyes, helping my dad with his fake tattoos for his costume when we went to the Expo, Daniel hugging me one last time.

There was so much I didn't know. What had happened to Daniel? How did my father end up this planet where they called him by a different name as if they were confident they knew who he was better than I did? The man I knew wouldn't be capable of mysteriously travelling between dimensions or giving anyone a reason to arrest him. The worst mystery of all was not having an answer about what had happened to Casper.

Unable to come up with a single way that a notebook and pen could threaten the safety of Incepterrene, Combi finally agreed to allow me to have them. As I scrawled memories across the pages, hazy recollections took on a physical shape. Some were pleasant, like sharing a bed with Gem as a child. It was challenging to reconcile the memory of how easy it once was to be touched with how hard it became over the years. It seemed the problem I had as a child wasn't that I didn't want Gem to put hands on me. It was that he couldn't.

Naps became bookmarks that slipped between the pages of the notebook in which I wrote. I found myself back in karate class with Casper during one of these slumbers. Innate grace fashioned Casper's lanky frame into a thing of beauty. Boys who were only fourteen-years-old shouldn't look so finished.

Although we practiced the same kick, Casper's movements looked like a dance. I watched his leg arc upwards, only to be surprised when he brought it down with a thud. His white gi disappeared, replaced by a hot pink tutu and ballet slippers. Instead of fleeing the room as most people would, Casper turned to look at me.

"This must be how you feel every time you come here, but you never let it stop you," he said.

I woke up disoriented. Fumbling in the dark for the light switch, I hit my shin against the bed frame and hollered in pain. A backlit silhouette appeared in the doorway. A woman's voice asked, "Are you alright?" I sighed with relief at the realization it wasn't Combi.

"I hope you're as nice as your voice makes you sound," I whispered. "I'm not sure I could take the disappointment if you turned out to be as bad as...."

"Combi is a real piece of work. I don't blame you for being relieved to have another option," the woman said. She might have been playing good-cop, but I figured that I might as well enjoy it while I could.

"Do you know anything about what they plan to do with me? Are you allowed to talk about it?" I asked.

The woman shook her head. "I'm just an employee."

"I guess you're going to ask me to call you Companion A—"

"I'd rather you didn't. Maybe there's something else you could call me that starts with that letter?"

"How about Apple. A is for Apple," I said.

"That's the red fruit with white inside?" She said.

I nodded.

"Since we're on the topic of fruit, there's a fruit I've seen here that I'd like a name for," I said, remembering my dream. "The dappled skin is purple coloured. It tastes like citrus, but with a hint of lavender."

"It's called a purple," she said.

"Guess I can't laugh. We have a fruit called an orange," I said.

"You seemed as if you had a bad dream. Do you want to tell me about it?" She gestured at a couch in the living room, inviting me to sit with her.

"Gemini was petting me like a cat," I said, taking a seat. "I clawed him and ran away."

"Feeling conflicted?" Apple said with a laugh as if she understood that this might be the understatement of the year. Apple reached out to set her hand on mine. I would have pulled away, if not for fear of offending the only person who'd treated me with kindness since arriving at the Ministry.

She sighed and withdrew her hand. "As hard as it might be, you need to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

~ ~ ~

I'd renamed my other companion The B in my mind, or TB for short. She was back on duty when I woke. The only reason I could think of for TB not asking for the night shift since she seemed to hate me was that she liked to make me feel like a prisoner. Knowing I had something to look forward to seemed to make the day pass slower.

Apple didn't come back on shift until after supper. Once we were alone, she said, "I see there's been no movement in your situation."

"Not much movement of any kind. TB wouldn't even let me walk around the courtyard."

"You call her TB?" Apple said.

"Not to her face," I mumbled.

"I'm not going to ask you what it stands for... She tends to be a bit literal in interpreting the rules. Good thing I'm not." She tossed me a red bathing suit.

"We're going swimming?" I said with a grin.

"Nah. I just thought it might be a fun change of wardrobe." I felt my face go blank. Apple laughed, and I knew it was at me. She said, "You're almost as literal as TB."

"I'm so much worse. You have no idea," I said.

"Never mind all that. Go change," Apple said.

I wasn't thrilled with the suit she'd brought me—one-piece suits always rode up on me because of my long torso—but I would have worn a burlap sack if it meant I could get out of the room.

By the time I returned from the bedroom, Apple had stripped down to a beige bathing suit. Something about seeing Apple rocking curves in the blandest coloured bathing suit I'd ever seen made it hard not to burst into giggles.

In the empty hallway that leads to the pool, even Apple's hand gripping mine was reassuring, which is the only reason I didn't try to pull away. She cut to the left, guiding me into a black-tiled hallway that leads to the pool room. The only source of illumination came from the lights beneath the water. At the shallow end, the water lapped against an artificial beach. I had to wonder what kind of pool filters wouldn't end up plugged by the sand.

Apple waded into the water up to her waist, turned toward me and waved her hand for me to come in. The sand shifted around my feet as I stood in one spot for a moment. I found myself wishing I could bury myself, letting the sand press against my nerves like a weighted blanket. Once I waded into the water, I noticed that it pushed against my legs in a way it wouldn't on Earth. One of the things I'd always loved about swimming was the sensation of weightlessness. This water took some effort to move in by comparison. I found myself having to think about staying on the surface as I tried to float, while at home, I might have already drifted into an almost sleeping state.

"Any more weird dreams?" Apple asked, stretching out on her back.

"One," I said, staring at the mural in the ceiling tiles. The details suddenly seemed essential. A painting of two planets interlocked with circles of gold was laid out with fragments of ceramic tiles. Placed where the bands joined was the symbol for a valve.

After a minute of silence, Apple said, "This is the part where you are supposed to tell me all your secrets so that I could use them to further my sinister agenda."

Although she appeared to be trying to be funny, I found myself understanding finding a new way to relate with Banquo's point of view in Macbeth; wondering if Apple might be an instrument of evil using half-truths to lure me into a false sense of trust. It was a thought I didn't want to entertain, if for no other reason than how much Apple reminded me of Milly. She was the one person trying to give me anything that resembled home or family.

"I had a dream about my dad," I said. A wriggling worm of doubt burrowed into the back of my mind as Apple paddled closer. I couldn't help worrying that she might be repositioning herself to keep from missing details she could use on her report.

Apple pressed her lips together until they were a thin line. She held that expression for a moment before saying, "Your dad is in our holding cells. They aren't as nice as this room, but he's safe and well."

"Why is he being held as if he is a prisoner?" I asked, struggling to keep from sounding angry.

"I'm kept behind a line when it comes to access to information," Apple said.

"So, you can't tell me anything?" I mumbled.

"It isn't like I don't want to. I don't know much," Apple said.

I saw no sign that she was lying, not that my impression of her honesty counted for much. I'd been wrong about people's intentions too many times to make that mistake. On the other hand, it would be nice to talk to someone. "He was a child," I said after a moment of silence.

"Who was?" Apple said.

"My dad. He was holding hands with other children, standing in a circle around a metallic device. White-hot fingers of electricity crackled off the surface. Heat licked the air. The children let go of each other's hands as a brilliant column of light shot into the sky. They screamed in pain as sparks cascaded over their heads."

"That is a lot of detail for a dream where you seemed to be an omniscient observer. What do you think it means?" She said.

"No clue. For all I know, it was just a bit of undigested roast beef," I said.

"Weirdo," Apple said with a splash. She laughed when I splashed back. Before I knew it, she was scooping handfuls of water at my face.

It was a welcome distraction from the part of the dream that I'd held back from her, where I was standing in the observatory with a much younger version of my father. Somehow everything kept coming back to that stone building. In the dream, a slash of light ripped a seam into the fabric of darkness. Something fell through the tear. A metallic clank rang out a moment later. Dad stooped to pick it up, then turned it around in his hands. He smiled as he shoved the object into his pocket. Dad had asked me, "Did you see the light from the tail of the comet reflected off the windows?" My braids bobbed enthusiastically. I held my hands up, and he scooped me into his arms.

~ ~ ~

After spending each day enduring TB's sullenly silent companionship, almost any visitor would have a welcome change. Gem's arrival was a gift, but it didn't take long to start sensing something was off about him. Granted, my memories of him were sketchy at best. What bothered me the most was how strangely animated he seemed. He greeted me with, "Sweet dove, I've missed you." Between Gem's use of a sickly sweet term of endearment and the hug he sprang on me, I might have thought he was trying to annoy me, except I was confident that he wouldn't do that to me. The fact remained that Gem should have been able to predict how I'd react to his odd behaviour. It made me wonder if there was a secret message hidden inside this behaviour since he'd know by years of observation that it would make me uncomfortable.

"Do you remember that room we walked by when we were returning from the Moon Pool?" His breezy tone didn't line-up with the grimness of the topic. If there was something he wanted me to avoid saying or doing, he was putting too much faith in me that I'd be able to figure it out by these subtle hints.

"Remember how you leaned against me while we walked past that room?" Both the red and green lights glowed in Gem's eye. Stop and go.

"Why would I want to talk about that?" I said.

His eyes warned me not to say more. I paused to keep myself from saying something I might regret. Everything Gem had done since being ushered into my quarters seemed to be a warning, but I wasn't sure what he thought the danger might be. I imagined the cell that was designed to be transparent on one side and opaque on the other. Suddenly it came to me: Someone was watching.

"I was beginning to think you would never come...my nightingale," I took his lead. He quirked one his eyebrow at me and let out a puff that sounded dangerously close to a laugh.

"Your presence has been requested for today's special occasion. I was asked to escort you to the event," Gem said.

"Nobody let me know. What's the occasion?" I said.

"Pastor Doral is being sworn in as Interim Prime Minister," Gem said.

"I'm flattered, but aren't you worried it might be a bit risky for me to attend?" I said.

"No need to worry. We'll have security. Rory, you seem tense. We have time for a walk in the courtyard." He held the door open and guided me to the little garden area where Apple had been bringing me to stretch my legs.

Although it was too early for a shift change, we found Apple at the entrance. She leaned toward Gem and softly said, "I think someone's been painting the roses." She scurried away, leaving me wondering why, if she were only going to say one thing to Gem, she would choose a reference to Alice in Wonderland.

Gem guided me to the rose bed and stopped, making a gesture at me to keep my voice down.

"I got the feeling you meant your attendance at the ceremony would be risky in more than one way. What are you afraid of?" He said, barely above a whisper.

"Maybe it's not the best idea for Pastor Doral to allow our names to be associated with each other. He'll regret it in the end if he does," I said.

"You might be right," Gem nodded, "but it's what he wants."

Something else seemed to be on his mind, so I decided to press him. "You better tell me what's on your mind while you have the chance. I'm guessing that cloak and dagger game he playing with Apple was some kind of signal that this spot was a dead zone for whoever is spying on us."

He smiled. "You figured that one out quickly. To explain to you what's been bothering me, I'll need to tell you about a piece of our technology. We have chips in our heads—"

"I know. Denovo already told me about them. He also said you could shut them off anytime you want. So why didn't you?"

"It's true. We don't have to keep the chips turned on, but you should also know that they don't upload automatically to the Ministry. We are only required by law to upload once a year, and we can choose what to submit. The thing is, I started to notice how it was the people with the least faith who turned them off regularly, and the ones who edited them heavily before submission also seemed to be the most radicalized," he said.

"Rationally speaking, I realize it wouldn't matter what you did or didn't record and upload if I didn't know about it. Just because humans who are having their privacy invaded each day by Incepterrians aren't aware that it's happening doesn't make it right. However, it should make it irrelevant. I can't get one question out of my head: Why did you need recordings?"

Gem gave me a look that reminded me of a dog who was trying not to notice a glob of peanut butter on his nose.

"They came up with an upgrade that helped knock people out of their complacency. The upgrade analyzes the emotions being observed and stimulates certain parts of the brain to help people feel what their second self is feeling. It seems to work better between fellow Incepterrians than it works across the membrane. I think the problem is cultural."

"That was quite the sidestep you did there. I don't want you thinking that I didn't notice how you didn't answer my question. Don't you understand that the most enthusiastic early adopters of this kind of technology are going to be violent perverts? I'm starting to feel like Denovo was right in thinking humanity has been choosing to repress their knowledge of people from this world watching them. It makes sense considering the alternative. Back on campus, I met a boy who couldn't even deal with the idea that his Smart television might be listening to him. I can't imagine how he'd react to this."

"Rory, you have every right to be upset, but we don't have time for it. The reason I needed to explain the chip wasn't to start a philosophical debate on its merits. We found out where Daniel's Sentinel has been all this time. Rory, he's dead. We found his body in the harbour."

"At least that should prove Denovo's a liar." I could almost be feeling the strain of my brain against the seams of my skull. I carried on, "Denovo told me that my brother was part of an experiment. His idea was to kill my brother and see if his Sentinel died at the same time. If my brother's Sentinel is dead, that should prove Denovo is a liar."

"Think about it. What's Denovo's reason for lying?" Gem said.

An imaginary thought cloud materialized over my head, raining down scary images. Gem's face grew grave as if seeing comprehension dawn in my eyes of the other possibilities. Casper could be dead. Denovo could be holding Casper somewhere to keep me in line. I couldn't stand not knowing, and I couldn't risk doing anything without being sure that Casper was safe.

"There's something I'm still missing. Denovo's trying to make us miss the little things, but I can feel something waiting to bite us in the ass. I can't shake the feeling that your brother is using Casper to hurt us. Have you found out anything new about Casper?"

"I know you disapprove of the methods used by the Ministry of Second Self to keep tabs on humans, but I've been using them to look into Casper. I found out a potentially vital bit of information. His Sentinel is here in the Ministry. Since he's not an employee, the most likely explanation is that he was arrested at the theatre."

My body shuddered with relief. Casper was alive.

The little grey Eeyore node in my brain whispered, "Unless this is just another game that Denovo is playing."

Eeyore could kiss my ass.

My gloomy alter-ego wouldn't let it go. What if Denovo found a way to break the connection? Daniel's Sentinel being dead didn't prove anything, one way or the other. Being dead didn't mean he hadn't been alive after Daniel was gone. He might have survived my brother's death, only to be later murdered. It would be consistent with what I knew about Denovo for him to tell me a lie; to make me believe Casper's Sentinel was alive so he could trick me into hoping it meant Casper was safe.

A wave of dizziness washed over me as the words Denovo had been singing as he exited the transportation craft at the Ministry echoed in my mind. It had been the theme song from an old show called Casper the Friendly Ghost.

I felt Gem slip his arms around my chest to lower me to the ground. He squatted beside me in silence for several minutes while

I rocked in place. Apple whistled, bringing me back into my body. She pointed at the circular section of the Ministry building. Gem nodded.

"We need to go back to your room so you can get dressed," he said.

He extended a hand to help me rise. I wasn't sure why I shrugged him away. Stranger still was the sense of relief I felt, seeing the look of hurt on his face. Maybe it came from knowing that I could lose my temper without fearing that he'd leave. Perhaps it was because I didn't want to be the only one stuck in a trap.

Gem held out a bundle of white clothes for me to put on, once we got back to my room. I took the clothes to the bathroom to dress. He'd chosen palazzo slacks and a peasant top with red flowers embroidered on the hemline. The flowers also decorated the high-heeled torture device boots almost guaranteed to cost me a twisted ankle. Most people would want a mirror so they could double-check their appearance. Gem's judgment would have to suffice.

"That's a good look for you," Gem commented as I exited the bathroom. Something about the look in his eyes made me wonder if I'd been wrong to assume he was the one who'd chosen the clothes. If that was the case, the clothes might be saying more than I initially thought. Maybe he didn't want me to overthink it. Or perhaps he was tired. Only very egotistical people believed they could read a person's thoughts based on the look in their eye or the way they tilted their heads.

Thinking about what Casper said about my clothes at Experience College Week, I said, "Not as good as my Strawberry Shortcake outfit. Why do you wear beige all the time?"

He shrugged. "Simplicity. There are three styles of garments from which we considered acceptable to wear outside the home. One is formal—dress pants paired with a stiff-collared, button-front shirt. The second is like something a Maritime fisher might wear. The third is combat gear in my case. The idea behind them is to keep from overloading our senses. People generally make a few decisions well in a day, and the rest are flawed. Why waste one good decision on something as trivial as clothing?"

"I've heard of people doing that. It might be something I'd try if I weren't so addicted to finding nerdy additions to my wardrobe."

Gem laughed. "I've noticed the nerdy thing." He suddenly turned serious. "Are you ready for this?" He asked.

"What's this ceremony going to be like?" I said.

"I need to warn you that the theatre is a lot like the one where the rally happened. Tiers of seats extend up around a verticle column of space. I hope it makes you feel a little better to know that I will be there with you," Gem said.

"It sounds like the World Cup of Quidditch," I mumbled.

"It's exactly like that," Gem said with a smile, "But without the brooms. Three-dimensional images will be enlarged in the center column so the spectators can see the participants. The whole ceremony will take around an hour to complete."

"And everyone will be staring for at me at least half of the time. I don't understand why Pastor Doral is insisting I come," I said.

"Pastor Doral feels it's time to demonstrate his faith in you publically," Gem said.

"Fine. Lead the way," I said.

It took a couple of minutes to reach the silo-shaped center of the building, despite the crowd parting in front of us as we walked through the wide hallways. Gem nudged his chin at the labels next to the elevator buttons. "Those are the names of regions on Incepterrene," he said.

"This whole planet is represented by only one governmental body? It doesn't seem possible for one government to be able to fulfill the needs of an entire planet," I said.

As the elevator filled with people, I noticed that many of them were trying to look at us without being caught doing it. Gem nodded, but he didn't elaborate. Most of the lower levels had labels with the names of provinces. Gem nudged me to exit when we reached the first floor designated as a Spectator Gallery. We took seats in the front row of the lowest seating tier.

Gem set his hand near mine as people shuffled down the rows. For a change, his attempt to reassure me worked. It told me that Gem understood I wanted him close, but not too close.

Looking around at the people seated near us, it was apparent Gem had been right about there being only a few types of outfits worn on Incepterrene. It made the few patches of people who were dressed differently stand out. Some of them appeared to be Ministry, but the rest had the Severant symbol sewn to their clothes.

Gem squared his shoulders as the music began to play. The familiar face of Partner Paully, the teacher I'd met at the Moon Pool, appeared in the column.

"With heavy hearts, we come here today to swear in Pastor Doral as Interim Prime Minister. Our grief must be set aside to look to the future. While we begin the process of preparing for an election, we must put our faith in Pastor Doral, trusting him to protect the best interests of our people. I feel privileged today to pass over the reins of government to the capable hands of Pastor Doral. May he guide us wisely," Paully said.

Pastor Doral walked across the floor and stood in front of Partner Paully.

"Pastor Doral, do you swear—" Paully's voice cut out at the same moment the images disappeared from the center column. People up and down the rows glanced around anxiously, whispering to each other. Gem brushed his thumb across the top of mine nervously. A moment later, his mouth dropped open as the image of me slicing open a woman's throat appeared in the center column. Although I'd told him about the video back at Penitent Headquarters, it seemed he hadn't thought about the details like the blood that sprayed over the child's face. Gem closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and started to get up. He didn't get far before another image appeared.

The still frame image of a woman staring at herself in a mirror reminded me of books that began the same way so the author could have their character spend an entire page describing themselves to the reader. "We need to get out of here," Gem said.

Suddenly another image appeared next to the woman in the mirror, and I understood why Gem sounded panicked. I could describe this woman with my eyes closed. She was the one I'd spent a messy day pretending to kill in shot after shot, and the only reason to put her image next to this stranger would be to imply a direct connection between them. What could be more direct than the one being the other's second self?

"As you can see," Denovo's voice boomed over the speaker system, "these images are of the same person. You might also have noticed the girl who committed the murder was Rory Lyon. According to the Ministry of Second Self, the woman who had her throat cut was our late Prime Minister's second self. The person who murdered her was Rory Lyon, second self to my brother Gemini, who is a direct subordinate to Pastor Doral."

The crowd exploded with noise. It felt as if every eye had shifted in my direction. Gem grabbed my arm and dragged me toward a door. Three steps from the bottom of the staircase, my ankle folded thanks to the high-heeled shoes. Gem swept me into his arms and kept moving. Apple met us at the bottom and ran alongside Gem toward my quarters.

Doors around the periphery of the silo-shaped auditorium began to open. People poured through them. Pastor Doral didn't say anything to us as he was bustled through one of the doors by harried-looking security agents. It was difficult to tell if he saw us since he kept his eyes on the back of the security agent directly in front of him.

Apple opened the door to my quarters, and Gem carried me inside. He deposited me on the couch before he walked back to the door. He slid onto the floor, his back against it as if turning himself into a secondary barrier.

Commands were being shouted at the crowd to exit the building. It took some time for the sounds of moving outside and away from the building. After a few minutes, the noise sounded like it was coming from further away, but I could still make out every obscenity directed at me. Since sleep was out of the question, I took a spot on the floor next to Gem. The bed would have been more comfortable, but I could tell there'd be no moving Gem away from the door. We passed a few restless hours this way until someone finally knocked.

TB stood on the other side. "Get up," she said to me. "You're being moved. I'll give you a minute to say goodbye."

Gem shut the door behind the woman. After she left, we stared awkwardly at each other. We were probably thinking the same thing: Everything had gone wrong.

"How did my dad get here?" I asked, knowing our time was running out. "How can my dad be charged with treason if he isn't an Incepterrian? The same thing happened where I come from to a man named Louis Riel, charged with treason against a country he didn't owe his allegiance. Louis Riel ended up hanging. Is that what's going to happen to my dad?"

Gem looked into my eyes. "Your dad doesn't have a Sentinel registered with the Ministry of Second Self. That wasn't proof, one way or another, but it was enough to make me worry."

"I don't understand. Worry about what?" I said.

The portion of my dream that I'd withheld from Apple tickled the back of my mind. My stomach roiled. It made me wonder if I already knew what Gem was about to tell me.

"Stories about Incepterrians who were left behind on Earth have been part of our oral culture for a very long time," Gem said.

"Do you mean when the gates closed? But that's ancient history. Are you trying to say my dad has a connection to those people? Like a descendant? Why would it make a difference to his ability to come here?" I said.

"It shouldn't. If that's where they think his Incepterrian blood came from, it shouldn't make a difference after all this time. It doesn't change the fact that they seem to believe the tie is strong enough to justify an accusation of treason," Gem said.

"They have to be wrong. That's all there is to it," I said.

An image of my father dressed as a Khal popped into my headstrong, imposing, fierce, protective, loyal and still willing to entertain my whims when he knew it might embarrass him. I didn't know what it meant to be an Incepterrian. I certainly didn't understand their culture. The one thing I felt like I should be sure about was my father. He was human. He had to be human because if he wasn't, it meant I wasn't either.

I couldn't help wondering if Casper had felt this dull ache of longing when he'd told me about wanting the superpower of being able to find lost things. Was his sense of loss over his language and culture slipping away like a sharp knife digging into his chest, or was it more like someone trying to tunnel through him with a baby spoon? He'd had such a look of yearning on his face when he'd blown on that dandelion, talking about how some things were hard to get back once they were gone. I had to conclude it was naïve of me to try to compare my feelings of grief at Casper's absence to such a profound loss.

Stomping into the room with two guards, TB cut short my thoughts, smiling at me for the first time in our brief acquaintance.

"Rory Lyon, you're being moved to our prisoner holding cells. You are no longer a guest of the Ministry," she said.