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parents for another six months. During that time, we’ll meet regularly. Once in a while, we’ll travel. This will be your probation period, and whatever I teach you during this time mustn’t be shared with anyone.’
    ‘And after that?’
    ‘Should you or I decide — at any point during your probation — that this is not a future for you, then that’s what it is. You can work at the local composting facility if you choose to do so. However, should I approve of a full apprenticeship, you’ll leave home and you’ll never return. Any contact with your parents and your friends will be strictly forbidden.’
    Okay, so the man knows I’m desperate, wherever he got that information from. But people tend to provide everything and anything if you tell them you’re a Sequencer. My parents will practically throw me into his arms without asking a single question. ‘Where will I go?’
    ‘I’ll only ever talk about what happens after the probation, when you’ve met my expectations and those of others.’
    Of course. How stupid of me to ask. ‘Why me? Have you seen my final grades? Or any of my grades?’ Have you seen how bony I am? Aren’t the other girls prettier?
    ‘No, I have not seen them. Grades are irrelevant.’
    I can’t bite back the snort. It comes spurting out together with an avalanche of acidic words. ‘I don’t believe you! You can be anyone. Some guy who steals girls from her parents and does things to them. I’ve never seen anyone with a skin that colour. Where do you come from? What’s the name of our Sequencer? The one who usually visits?’
    ‘Cacho,’ he says without hesitation. ‘He suggested you.’
    ‘Impossible.’ He must have found Cacho, pressed information from him, and killed him. There’s no other explanation.
    The man leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. ‘Well, we can’t ask him now, can we? I suggest you make up your mind in the next ten seconds, because I need to sleep off my headache.’
    I tap my fingers against the tabletop. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. ‘I have nothing to lose,’ I say. ‘You seem to know this. So I guess you win.’
    ‘Is that a yes?’
    ‘Sure.’ Yeah, sure. Whatever. You have no idea what my plans are for tonight, idiot.
    He flicks an eyebrow up; it goes hiding under the bandage. ‘You believe I abduct girls because my skin is darker than what you think is normal. Funny. I doubt you’ve ever seen anyone with skin as pale and as dotted as yours. Not to speak of your hair — orange, of all colours. Do you abduct boys?’ He pushes from the table and says loud enough for my parents to hear, ‘I assume you heard what your daughter said.’
    ‘How is it called? The colour of your skin,’ I ask, pointing at his face.
    ‘Olive.’
    I knew it! Flavours of coffee and cream spread between my sinuses and my palate.
    The kitchen door opens. Mother and Father look shocked and puzzled. They probably can’t explain why a Sequencer picked me over a whole village of non-idiots. Yet, they seem to believe this is really happening.
    ‘Tomorrow morning, six o’clock, at the upper turbine,’ he says when he walks through the corridor.
    Weird. I’d expected he’d take me away at once.
    ‘Should we accompany her?’ my father asks, his voice unnaturally high.
    ‘She comes alone.’ He steps out, looks up at the night sky, and says, ‘It smells like rain.’ Then he turns away and the darkness swallows him whole.
    Of course I’m to come alone. The door closes and I turn to my parents. ‘Did he show you proof of his identity?’
    ‘You didn’t show the man any respect!’ barks my father. ‘If you screw this up…’ He brings his face close to mine. ‘…you’ll be disinherited.’
    There’s nothing I want from my father. I turn away from him and see Mother opening her mouth. I’m not in the mood for her good advice. Before she can say a peep, I mutter, ‘Need to sleep. Have to get up early.’
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