Chapter 8

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“Cass! Cass, wake up!”  

            I’m forced awake, eyelids fluttering open unwillingly. Alice’s face is inches away from my own, and I slide back on the couch with a start. Alice giggles with the satisfaction of making me jump.

            “What?” I ask frantically. “What happened? Are you okay?”

            “Everything’s fine,” she says. She breaks out into a wide smile. “No. Everything’s fantabstic.”

            “Fantabstic, huh? I must’ve missed out.” I rub my eyes. I hadn’t meant to take a nap—hadn’t even realized I was sleeping until now as I’m waking up. But then, after a few hours of watching Alice work at the Cylinder, anyone would have dozed off. “How long was I out?”

            “I dunno. Long enough. Don’t you want to know what’s so fantabstic?”

            “Right, of course. Tell me Alice,” I say, sweeping her up off her feet to set her gently on my knees, “what is so fantabstic?”

             “I figured it out,” she blurts, and grins even wider.

            I laugh. “You did, did you?”

            “Yup. I did.”

            “Show me.”

            Alice hops off my lap and heads dutifully to the Cylinder. She points to the screen, practically jumping up and down. I blink a few times as I take a look. Sure enough, an image of the message we received yesterday, the one telling us about the Gathering, is right there on the screen.

            “See? I’m as smart as Asher. Probably even smarter.”

            I blink a few times. “But . . . how did you . . . “

            Alice leans down to the base of the Cylinder. She points at a panel, one of four sheets of metal that make up the outside of the contraption. “Did you know you could open these things down here?” She brings her words to life by taking one of the panels off with ease. “And that there are wires and things inside? And that if you mess with the wires and things and mix them up all weird, the screen-thing will show you all the stuff we’ve already gotten?”

            “Past requests, you mean?” I ask. I peer into the inner mechanisms of the Cylinder. “But that . . . all those wires . . . how could you possibly know which ones to—“ 

            “I told you, I’m smart.” She runs her hand over the spot where her cowlick would be, not remembering that it’s tucked into a braid. “It did take a long time, though.”

            “Alice, that’s . . .” An awed, little laugh bursts out of me. “That’s amazing.”

            Her lips twitch up in another smile. “Thanks.”

            Exchanging excited glances, we turn to the screen. My fingers hover over the keypad uncertainly. “So I can just . . . change it to say what I want it to?” I ask, feeling dumb. It’s foreign, this feeling—being stupid compared to my nine-year-old sister.

            “Mhm. I think you just type it in. ‘Cept for that thing at the bottom. The ‘live without fear.’ That you can’t fix.”

             “That’s okay. Asher couldn’t either.”

            “Oh.” Alice frowns. “I guess we’re just the same smartness, then.” 

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