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DANIEL WHEATLEY

“I’m Beatrice,” the small girl said. She spoke with a soft
Italian accent, her English otherwise impeccable.
“Zanna,” Zanna said with an awkward wave.
“Ah, so you’re the one who nearly got herself kidnapped yes-
terday,” Cedwick drawled, not even bothering to properly intro-
duce himself. “I read all about that in e Constant. Metallurgical
illusion, was it? And the smell didn’t tip you o?”
Zanna scowled. e way Cedwick talked reminded her of
a snobbish aristocrat looking down his nose at the peasant on
his doorstep. “Yeah, how dare I not know about metallurgical
illusions?” she snapped. “I didn’t even know all this existed
yesterday.”
It seemed a lot more violent and forceful in her head. Maybe
she just lacked the proper voice to really yell at someone. Either
way, Cedwick smirked and brushed her remark o like a bit of
dust. “No worries. I’m Cedwick, Cedwick Hemmington. If there’s
anything you want to know, just ask. You’re both obviously CG.
I’m sure I can answer any questions you might have.”
Zanna’s stomach made an angry sound, and for the rst
time that morning, it had nothing to do with heights. “I don’t
need your help,” she muttered. “So go stu yourself.”
“Now, now,” Dr. Fitzie said before Cedwick could reply, clap-
ping her hands to silence the class. “You’ll have plenty of time
to chit-chat with your new friends afterward. We have a very
exciting day ahead of us, so let’s get to it!”
e class grumbled and took out their notebooks.
“I’ve said before that this is my favorite lecture,” Dr. Fitzie
said, as wide-eyed as a child at Christmas. “Because today we
are going to be discussing the very foundation of mathematics.
In fact, I would say it’s the very foundation of the universe. at’s
what you’re studying, mathematics, you know—the bones of
the universe. All that physics and chemistry? It’s useful, I guess,

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