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increase brain function, cure diseases, impart information directly into the brain, turn skin into armor and limbs into weapons, change the shape of your body or face . . . just about anything imaginable. I’d always loved the idea—in theory. I didn’t know that I loved the idea of having them in me right now, especially since I didn’t know what they were up to.
    â€œThe nanites will help you to communicate,” Ms. Price said, with less enthusiasm than the subject of advanced and invasive technology seemed to deserve.
    This was starting to sound creepy. I didn’t know that I wanted machines in my brain. “Communicate what?”
    â€œEzekiel, there’s no way to prepare you for what I’m going to tell you, so I’m going to say it outright. For the past week, several nations of this world have been negotiating with a representative of a vast network of alien species. They are considering admitting our world, on a provisional basis, into their alliance, and the first step is for us to send four young people, chosen by the aliens, to one of their cultural hubs. Our worth as a species will be measured by the behavior of this small group. However improbably, you have been chosen to be part of this process.”
    I stared at her. She had to be messing with me, but this woman looked like she had no direct experience with the concept known as humor.
    She shook her head in apparent sadness. “I know it is hard to believe.” She pressed an intercom button on her phone. “Tell the representative we’re ready for him.”
    I was about to ask her something, but whatever my question was, it froze in my throat, because a giraffe in a business suit had entered the room. Up to his shoulders he had the frame of a pretty normal man, but then, exploding out of the collar, were two feet of heavily muscled neck covered by short, nut-brown fur. Then there was the giraffe head, with a long snout, large ears, and two stubby protrusions sticking up from the forehead.
    The suit was charcoal gray, and nicely tailored. The giraffe creature had an impeccably folded white handkerchief in the front pocket. I thought that was weird.
    Technically, he was not really a giraffe. For one thing, he didn’t have giraffe markings. For another, he walked on two legs and he wore a suit. Also, he spoke, which is not something you generally expect from a giraffe.
    â€œHello,” he said. “I’m Dr. Klhkkkloplkkkuiv Roop.” He stuck out his hand for me to shake.
    In something of a daze, I shook. The creature had taperedhands, with long, narrow fingers, and they were covered with the same brownish fur, but otherwise they looked a whole lot like they could be human. He also had a firm handshake and he met my eye, so, if necessary, I could trust him to sell me a used car.
    â€œYou must be Ezekiel Reynolds,” he said. His accent sounded vaguely European, which surprised me. To my knowledge, giraffe men are not native to Europe.
    â€œYeah,” I managed, and I thought I was extremely articulate under the circumstances. My neck was already hurting from this conversation. Up to the shoulders he was normal person–size, but with the neck the total package was close to about eight feet.
    â€œI understand this is difficult for you,” he said, “and I can think of nothing to make it less so. We might as well jump right in.”
    â€œSure,” I agreed. “That sounds like a plan.”
    The giraffe guy gestured for me to sit, and I did. He sat across from me, crossed his legs, and adjusted this tie.
    â€œI work,” he began, “for the Department of Sentient Integration, a branch of the Coalition of Central Governing Committees of the Confederation of United Planets. We are a vast alliance of species native to our section of galactic spiral. From time to time, when our selection committee has identified four qualified worlds, we recruit new species who have