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“That’s amazing,” says Francesca.
      “Did his parents say yes to you and Greg going out?” asks Sanny.
      “Erm, I think so. They agreed to enroll me in private tutoring.”
      “But they never actually said yes?” asks Sanny, persisting.
      “I can’t really expect them to say yes on the spot. But giving me private tutoring is pretty good right?”
      “What they mean is you need finishing school.”
      “Sanny!” Francesca sounds exasperated.
      I laugh and glance across the park at Greg. I thought he said he was going to run one lap. That has to be at least three by now. I guess he’s forgotten me.
      “Oh! Did you hear about the little riot yesterday?” asks Francesca. “No? Would you like to see it?”
      She slips off her glove and extends her bare hand to me. She’s known me long enough to be able to blank her mind out in the right way to share her memories with me. And I think she gets a kick out of being able to do that.
      When I lay my hand on hers, I see the tax office from her eyes last night. Ten men have gathered around it, throwing bits of flagstone, bottles, and whatever else comes under hand. They scatter and flee when an angry Pertran bursts out of the front doors.
      Francesca’s view shows Pertran give the men a half-block’s chase before giving up. The men hurl back obscenities at him.
      “Apparently the auditors reaped some of their livestock illegally,” says Francesca, withdrawing her hand.
      “Illegally?” scoffs Sanny. “Lightnings do not break the law. They invent the law.”
      “She’s right,” I say. “Laws only apply to us.”
      “Ew, what’s that smell?” asks Francesca, frowning.
      I see the ‘Canoid first, since I’m facing that end of the park. I point it out for them.
      The three-storey tall building device has lumbered over from the construction site across the street. Who do I see guiding the pilot? None other than Robert.
      “What do they think they’re doing, bringing that mechanoid so close to the park?” asks Sanny. “Those fumes are dangerous.”
      If I recall correctly from school, the fluorine power-core gases that noxious pink exhaust through the vent near the “head” of the exoskeleton. It’s dangerous for the pilot in the rib-cage, should the wind catch the fumes and blow them back on him. For us, all the way down here, it’s just an eye-watering inconvenience.
      The ‘Canoid reaches our side of the street and, under Robert’s direction, bends down to lift a sewer grate. All us girls under the trees watch him lie on the ground to fish around in the sewer with his arm.
      “That’s disgusting!” A group to my left tithers at him.
      “Ya, I hope he washes that arm.”
      Robert fishes something out and inspects it.
      “All that trouble just to rescue some stupid kid’s toy,” says Sanny in disgust.
      “No,” says Francesca. “It’s a promise ring. That’s so cute.”
      Robert hands the newly recovered ring to a pair of kids from my school. They look to be around fifteen. He waves to them, as they run to the fountains to rinse it.
      “Aww,” says Francesca.
      I watch Robert and the ‘Canoid meander back to the building site. Such a nice thing for him to do, but I bet he wasted his coffee break on it.
      Francesca suddenly tugs our arms. “Oh, here comes Greg.”
      “Oops, now I have to meet his friends. How’s my hair?”
      “Like an octopus crawled on your head and died.”
      “Sanny!” says Francesca.
      I turn and smile, as Greg arrives. We link hands.
      “Greg, my friends, Sanny and Francesca.”
      “Hi Greg,” says Sanny coquettishly, offering her hand, which he kisses.
      “Would you ladies like to meet my buddies over there?” asks Greg gesturing to the boys end of the park.
      “We have to wait for our friends, sorry,” says Sanny.
      It’s a lie, I know. She just doesn’t want to have to walk over there and be out of her element.
      I