Adam knew how easy it would be for Katniss to drown in the limitless amount of information that was the hallmark of 21st century internet. It wasn't just the risk of ADD-type bouncing between website, or what was called "analysis paralysis." Adam was sure that, like most Americans, Katniss lacked the sophistication to tell between a legitimate news source and left- or ring-wing propaganda.

So while she was sleeping that night, he came up with a schedule for the first month:

Week one: Katniss would read history books that Adam had in his apartment during the day when he was at work. At night, he'd teach her how to use a computer.

Week two: Adam would leave open a few Wikipedia pages and she could use the arrow keys to move around. With no mouse clicks, she'd stay focused.

Week three: She'd have free reign of Wikipedia.

Week four: She could go wherever she pleased online.

It was a good plan. In his bedroom under a blue and orange Denver Broncos blanket, Adam smiled. He reached over and turned out the light.

In the morning, he ran the plan by Katniss. She seemed cautiously optimistic.

"Which books should I start with?" she said.

Adam handed her a few books on Greek and Roman history, a biography of George Washington and a World Atlas. He showed her how to make a sandwich and how to use the fridge and (ulp!) the bathroom. He unlocked the door to his backyard, which faced a small woods and a narrow river. It seemed like a safer place for her to get some fresh air than the front yard.

His day at the Department of Justice was uneventful, mostly because he couldn't concentrate enough to make too many decisions. Adam was a dispatcher of the the police who policed federal buildings. He was about half the size of some of the walking tanks he worked with, known as Federal Protective Service Inspectors. These were the people that investigated federal crimes large and small - lost IDs, vandalism, harassment, assaults.

Adam's only friend was Evarest, an appropriately-named six-foot four Eastern European guard with short blonde hair and a light goatee. He had a large, flat head and chiseled arms like granite. He played poker in his spare time, and had a wife and two girls. Evarest usually worked bomb threats. When he showed up, people actually parted to make way, like Moses at the Red Sea. Evarest was all action. Adam saw himself as the man behind the action, or the "action-izer."

When Adam was growing up in Rapid City, South Dakota, a town of pawn shops and tiny, often shuttered business. His only dream in life was get the hell away from there. His friends moved to the Denver area for jobs, and Adam followed got a great one. Federal jobs had security, great benefits, and decent pay most of the time. What he didn't have was much of a life. Work took up a lot of his life, yes. And he hoped that it would help him get over his shyness. Yes, he bossed around a lot of people, but he rarely felt comfortable doing it. He hated - absolutely hated - conflict.

When he left work, he usually didn't know what to do with himself. His dog Porkchop was a relatively recent addition - he rescued him from a pound three months ago. He hoped it was going to help him talk to girls.

"Like Katniss?" he wondered to himself. No, she was married to someone who was built like one of the people he managed. But she was special. He felt strangely confident around her. Maybe because she was from out of town, and he had a degree of an edge on her. The edge made him feel more confident, around her anyway. Now he just had to make her the equivalent of a walking Wikipedia, and then he could get back to… whatever it is he was doing with his life.

At about seven at night, Adam pulled into his driveway. He let himself in.

"Where's my bookworm-in-training?" Adam said.

The house was empty. Adam expected to see books everywhere, Katniss, eyes bleary and brain tired but happy. But Katniss was nowhere to be found. Could she have gone? "Could someone have..." His breath stopped for a minute. "No. Couldn't be."

He walked through the apartment, around the sofa and through a small kitchen with a beige fridge and a quite heavy black microwave that had seen better days. On the left was a spice rack filled with meat rubs and Mexican spice blends. On the right was a small island with pots and green-handled Ikea knives. The backdoor was open an inch.

Adam opened it to find Katniss in a powerful archer's stance, her legs like tree trunks, strong and still. Her bow was drawn and an arrow was ready to fly. Sixty feet away, Adam could see a tree with a thick group of arrows sticking out of it. The arrows were so close together, they touched. Katniss face hardened. She bared her teeth, like white stones. With a growl she let the arrow go, and it sunk a good two inches into the bark.

Adam approached carefully.

"How's it going? Learn anything today?"

Katniss lowed the bow slowly, and as she did the strength in her limbs seemed to evaporate. Suddenly, she was tired and homesick.

"No," she said, her eyes little brown specs. She flung her bow on the porch. It landed with a clack and immediately zipped itself shut.

"I didn't learn anything at all. I have a problem."