“Plan A’s looking kind of good right now,” says Juneau.

I nod. “Either would require a good knowledge on our part of where everything is and what we are up against.”

Juneau nods at me, a glimmer of respect in her eye. “You’re pretty good at this,” she says.

“Well, it’s not quite as impressive as sticking my entire fist in my mouth,” I say.

“False modesty,” Juneau lobs back.

“Oh, sorry. I am AWESOME!” I say, striking a muscle-man pose.

“Better,” she says, grinning. She looks back down at the map. “Now, my first reaction would be to want to drive straight across the desert, and then once we’re near the gate, leave the truck and go the rest of the way on foot, hiding along the way. To get to my clan as quickly as possible.”

“Won’t they spot the truck?” I ask.

“Even if Avery has a few dozen men, this is a huge area to guard,” Juneau says, tapping her finger on the rectangular area, “But, yes—if someone is patrolling the perimeter, like I saw in the Reading, they will at some point see the truck.”

I frown at Juneau, skeptical. “You said that’s your first reaction. What’s your second?”

“To use restraint. Head for the mountains and take more time scouting the area from the outside before breaking in. We could take this road,” she says, pointing to a tiny black line on the map. “It’s a little farther and will take us longer, but we avoid the ranch and stay hidden. We could drive the truck as far as possible into the trees, and then hike till we hit the corner of the perimeter fence that extends into the woods.”

“I vote for the creeping-around-in-the-woods option over the barging-in-like-gangbusters one,” I say without hesitation.

Juneau nods. “Normally in a situation like this I would ask for a sign from the Yara. But seeing the future would require an oracle—” she begins. I put my hand up in a hold-everything gesture, and she continues, “But we’re not going there.”

There is an uncomfortable silence, which she finally breaks. “I want to go straight for my clan. To get this over with. But I’ve learned in the past that my emotions aren’t always an indicator of the best possible plan. I have to go deeper, to my instincts. And those tell me that the best thing to do is to set up a base camp in the woods, do surveillance of the ranch, and assess what advantages nature offers us before we act.”

“Then it’s decided,” I say, and putting the truck in gear, I head toward the mountains. I keep an eye out for any vehicles heading our way, but our car is the only thing moving for miles around.

We ride in silence for a few minutes before I say, “Can I ask you something about your religion?”

“I don’t have a religion,” Juneau says, looking curious. “Oh—do you mean my clan’s relationship with the Yara?”

I nod.

“That’s more metaphysical than spiritual. We don’t worship anyone or anything. It’s more a way of thinking about our position in relation to the rest of nature and the way we fit in with everything else.”

“But I’ve heard you mention Gaia before. Isn’t that the Greek earth goddess?”

“The Gaia Movement used the term to mean everything in earth’s superorganism—living things, rocks, oceans, air—they’re all mixed into one being called Gaia. Gaia exists in the past, back to the origins of life, and in the future as long as life exists. That’s why we can ask the Yara—the force that runs through Gaia—to see in the past and the future.

“Time is relative. The past and the future have both happened—we’ve just figured out how to access those past and future ‘memories’ by Reading.”

“Okay, this is where I screw my head off, shake it out, and screw it back on again,” I say.

Juneau gets this sardonic smile on her lips and says, “Posturing.”

“Huh?” I say.

“You keep doing this false modesty thing. Acting like you’re no one special. Or that you don’t understand what I’m saying because it’s complicated. When in fact you’re probably as smart as I am—”

“Ha!” I can’t help from blurting out.

“What?” Juneau asks, confused.

“Try not to be too modest,” I jibe.

Juneau just looks at me for a moment, and then says, “Why would I try to be modest? I’m super-smart, with potential for genius, from what the educators in our clan say. And from what I can tell, so are you. So why try to hide it? Why imply that you aren’t?”

I just keep driving with my mouth hanging open. I might have made some sort of gurgling noise, but am otherwise speechless.

Juneau continues to push me on it. “Is it some kind of cultural thing, this false modesty about your capacities? If this had been a week ago, I would have thought you were misleading me about your intelligence to put yourself at some sort of advantage. But now it just pisses me off because you’re not being honest. With me!”

I finally get my voice back. “Stop! Holy crap, Juneau, ixnay with the inquisition! I’m not trying to pull anything over on you. It’s cultural . . . definitely cultural. But I’ve never really thought about it before. Just give me a second.”

I try to formulate my thoughts into something she will accept. “You . . . I mean, people . . . in society . . .” How do I even say this? “You’re not supposed to act like you know you’re smart because it’s considered rude,” I say finally.