Dim Joy was watching external surveillance of the spire which Headquarters rested upon. It was surrounded by a black chasm, and around the vast chasm further out was the long-term memory library; a fingerprint-like landscape of colorful shelving which went past the horizon.

The spire had an exterior texture which suggested a combination of smaller spires bundled together in an evenhanded arrangement. One of these segments was darkened; it did not glow white like the rest of the exterior. She saw it rotating, slowly, revealing an opening and an interior going up its entire height, and loaded with processed thoughts, one stacked atop the other. They looked worn, burnt and cracking.

Once the segment opened completely, the burnt, spent thoughts leaned out of their own accord. The stack continued to lean outward until all of the thoughts fell out. They fell into the chasm, forgotten. Now emptied, the section of the spire rotated shut, and regained its glow.

Dim Joy turned, and observed a newly added viewing port. It was a transparent piece of wall, and through it she could see new processed thoughts falling down the shaft from above. They would fill the emptied cylinder below with fresh thoughts, and energy would once again flow through them and up into Headquarters. She'd read in the Mind Manuals that the processed thoughts were like read-only data chips. They served as a script for an energy field generated over Headquarters, which influenced the thinking of any entity inside; namely the Emotions who ran things.

"Joy!" The voice was Anger's. He was approaching her from behind. "We need to have a talk."

Dim Joy snapped out of her silent musing, turning halfway to look at him. "About what?"

He stopped a short distance from her, his arms were crossed. "It's about the go-juice shortage."

She sighed, looking upward. "Fine, fine. What's the news?"

"The shortage has reduced the Foundry to sixty percent productivity, and that's not enough to replenish the supply faster than we consume. Tube Number Seven has just been restocked, and they say they're nearing the end of their reserves."

She groaned at this, looking off and holding the top of her head with her mitts. "This is all I need..."

Anger's eyebrows were up, and he was shaking his head with a slight underbite. "It's not a good situation, boss."

"I need to speak with the Foreman." Dim Joy said as she walked past Anger toward the other side of Headquarters, to an auxiliary terminal meant for interaction with other parts of the mind. "There has to be a way to fix this. Some simple answer we're simply not seeing. Maybe with rationing-"

"They're already doing that." Anger was following right behind. "And I really should have opened with this, but..."

Dim Joy reached the terminal, and dialed the address of the Foreman's office in the Foundry. There was only static.

"..We lost contact with the Thought Foundry."

There was a pause, Dim Joy was frowning in thought. "..When?"

"As of four minutes, fourty eight seconds ago."

With her back to Anger, Dim Joy's eyes were darting let and right. "I don't understand. Could it be an accident? A malfunction? Adverse weather?"

Anger just shrugged. "Maybe sabotage."

"Sabotage... sabotage..." Suddenly her eyes were wide open, and she inhaled abruptly. "Sigma."

"As in the Greek letter?"

Dim Joy turned, calmly. And then looked at Anger. "Sigma is an irregular Mind Worker who looks just like me."

"Irregulars..." Anger flavored the word. "Those are the Workers who are made weird, right? They're defects who are stuck into their own miscellaneous category."

"Sigma is a step yet below that," Dim Joy said. "She has a gift for lying and manipulation, and is only interested in sowing disorder."

"And she looks just like you."

Dim Joy turned back to the terminal, and loaded Sigma's file, displaying it. The associated picture looked exactly like Joy, but with dark green skin and purple hair. "She may have had her color changed since this record was last updated, but yes. She looks like me, and I wouldn't put it beneath her to try and impersonate me."

Anger was deliberately shivering as an expression. "That, I think would be a disaster, if you were impersonated and replaced."

"Indeed."

"Why not use that new institution you enacted for the beefed up security? That, ah... private army. I'm sure they could handle a rogue Worker, if she's responsible for the communications failure."

"Anger, we discussed this: It's a peacekeeping force."

Anger rolled his eyes slightly. "Whatever label, you can send them to keep the peace in the Thought Foundry."

Dim Joy walked patiently in the direction of the main control panel, her hands behind her back. "No. Their job is to keep Headquarters secure. I'm not pulling them from their post for what could easily be equipment failure, or someone falling asleep at their desk. I'm certain we'll regain contact very soon."

"Joy... I don't get it. I really don't."

"Hm?" She turned, and saw he was standing in place, looking off. "Don't get what?"

"Joy, you... well, you're not assertive anymore. I think that your set has shrunken."

One of Dim Joy's eyes narrowed, "Anger, you're really using some inappropriate-"

"No. Balls. You have none." He was looking her in the eye now. "You've lost your balls."

"I never had them, Anger. I'm a female."

Anger just threw his hands in the air, stomping his feet as he paced, raising his voice. "I'll put it more frankly: Not long ago you feared nobody. But now... Now you're an eel."

"Yikes, way to put me on the spot-"

"You used to shove your worldview down or throats without any shame or self-awareness, and we've profited from it." He was clenching his fists, raising them near his face. "Now it feels like you need consensus just to walk and chew gum."

Sadness, Fear and Disgust were now looking in their direction from near the control panel.

Dim Joy was frowning. "If you disagree with any of my decisions, Anger, I'm open to discussion-"

Anger raised an index finger. "I'm going to cut you off again, because apparently I can do that now." He had a forced grin and was nodding. Then he started pacing again, pacing feverishly. The top of his scalp was beginning to smolder. "I think... I think... I think-"

"What do you think, Anger?" Dim Joy was attentive, but otherwise indifferent. "Do try to give words to your feeling."

He wheeled from pacing to face her. His cap exploded in a gout of flame.

"I THINK YOU NEED TO TAKE A DAY OFF!"

When Riley awoke early in the morning, she'd shot out of bed and took a shower while her parents were still half-asleep. After seeing to her dental hygiene and what to wear for the day, she went back into her room and searched all over her desk. A fistful of pencils and pens, several sharpeners, and at least three mostly blank notebooks. A light ache in the top area of her face made her aware that she was locked in a frown. Opening her wallet revealed a couple of $10s, as well as a handful of singles. It would be enough for what she was planning.

There was a knock on her bedroom door. "Riley," the voice was her father's. "Mom is making breakfast downstairs." His tone was propositional.

It occurred to her that they may not be aware she woke up well before they did. "I'll be right down!" She answered, and then heard her dad's footsteps move away from her door.

She leaned down, so that her face was visible in the small mirror over the rear of her desk. She did a little finger-adjusting of her shoulder-length hair.

"Really, you're adjusting your hair?" Dim Joy was remarking from a position at the control panel off from the center. Anger had taken the reigns.

"It's always bothered me, knowing exactly how it should look, but not being able to have it that way because of convenience. Well, not today. Today is gonna be my day."

"Your day, not Riley's." Dim Joy sniped.

"We are Riley. What we want is what she wants. What a part of her wants is what a part of her wants. It's simple logic, Joy."

Satisfied with her hair, Riley headed downstairs.

Gunfire, the roar of massive hydraulics, an explosion on a far-off, upper plate. These sounds coincided with the blinking and rotation of red alarm lights scattered about the Thought Foundry. Mind Workers ran and turned and shouted in a disorderly panic.

Joy was walking calmly through the chaos, unarmed and with her hands clasped behind her back. She came to a broad stairway that went up. It was blocked by an enormous gate. Thick metal bars, mounted on welded steel side walls which rendered the floor above inaccessible.

"Ivory," she called.

The massive white and gold bug stepped ahead of her. It gripped the steel barred gate in its jaws and braced its six legs. A few seconds of stillness, then the metal structuring began to groan. One of the hinges gave, releasing a deafening ring from the snapping of metal under pressure.

Ivory moved the semi-freed gate around, maintaining his grip as he tore it out of its housing at different angles, weakening the other points of contact. It wasn't long before he readily snapped it off its last remaining hinge and tossed it aside. It landed on the metal flooring aside with a light tremor.

"Well done." Joy said as she advanced up the steps. As she walked up, she raised a hand held radio to her mouth. "All units, report."

"This is Gamma. The explosive has been detonated successfully. Their communications antennae has been neutralized, over.

"Iota reporting. As anticipated, all elevators and lifts have gone into emergency lockdown. The Foreman has barricaded himself in the control room, over."

Joy held the talk button, "Iota. Have you any visual of security forces?" Iota was inside the APC several floors down. He'd tapped into the security surveillance network, and could see most of the Foundry.

"The next monorail comes in ten minutes, thirty seconds from now. If Headquarters is sending troops, they'll be on that train, over."

"Lambda, did you get that?" They were all on the same frequency.

"I did." She replied. "You're dangerously close to the tram docking station, over."

"I'm also close to the control room," she said as she passed a sign at the top of the stairway. B-050 was the directory labeling. "I want everybody to meet me here ASAP. We're taking the control room, and we're taking it now."

"Right then."

"Roger that."

"Yes Ma'am."

They all replied.

"I will be unable to accompany you to the control room. My size does not permit entry to such a small space."

In the ongoing commotion, the noise of the alarm horns, Joy again clasped her hands behind her back, cradling her radio in the hand which was not gripping the other's wrist. She stopped walking, turned and looked up at Ivory Tower's truck-sized head. "Can you find your way to the tram station?" She was aware that he was blind. His antennae often made the lightest of brushes on her as they walked, so that it could tell where she was taking them.

"I can hear its screeching from here. It is on this floor."

She nodded. "There's a monorail coming in. Delay it."

It immediately set out on this task, but then stopped a moment. "In what manner..." It searched for what words to use as its antennae flailed about, touching everything within reach as its body remained still. "How would you like it done?"

Joy was in the sort of mood which she'd never been in before. She was seething; overcome with an immense frustration which she kept hidden under a guise of calm, control and objectivity. She just shrugged at this question. "Eat them, wreck their train, wreck their rails- be creative, Ivory. As long as they are made aware..."

"Aware of what?"

She smiled, without humor but still with joy. "This is my Foundry now, and they are not welcome."

Ivory was nodding slowly. "Understood. I shall protect your Foundry from intrusion."

She nodded, "go forward Ivory Tower, and carry out my will."

It headed toward the rock wall, in the direction of a steel-framed tunnel which led to the monorail station.

The half she was at of the floor she was on was lacking in machinery or furnaces. It was an open area with flat, wheel-friendly steel flooring. There were also spaces with tables and chairs. It was arranged like a lobby.

Joy turned, and saw the Irregulars. Lambda, Iota and Gamma. They had already reached her. Omega was missing; he hadn't been seen since he threw Joy back down the shaft.

"That true, what you said to the huge bug?" Gamma's eyes were attentive on Joy as they lined up in front of her. "Are we really taking this place over..." A grin slowly appeared, "for keeps?"

"Have you considered the administrative costs of conquering territory?" Iota was pinching his forehead, his spectacled eyes shut in thought.

Lambda slapped her hands on Gamma and Iota's shoulders. "It isn't our job to ask questions. Now, might I ask what our new orders are?"

Joy turned, and walked off sideways. Her hands returned to a clasp behind her back. "You may."

The three Irregulars followed, closely behind and matching her slow, patient pace. "What are our orders?"

She pointed up, to the control room suspended above. It reached out from a filled in area of the next floor above. "I assume you brought your hookshots, yes?"

The three of them brandished clunky, chain-driven guns whose grappling hooks protruded out from their barrels. "Straight out of the cool part of Imagination-land," Gamma quipped.

"Really, Anger. I think you're overreacting. It, ah... it can't be healthy if you're driving for too long."

"No, Joy. I respectfully disagree." Anger was at the center spot of the control console, gripping his favorite pair of levers. His voice was low, tense, with a forced calm. "It's you driving for too long that can't be healthy.

Sadness, Disgust and Fear were affixed at this scene. Normally, any fit which Anger threw was immediately cut off by some new development or his own low stamina. But now, for the first time, he was being stubborn.

"Okay," Dim Joy narrated, looking up at the screen. "So now we're eating breakfast. Table manners are really something-"

"I can handle eating eggs and toast, Joy. It's not complicated."

She raised her hands backing off. "Okay, okay..."

"Riley, is something on your mind? You haven't said a thing since coming downstairs."

Her head raised from looking down at her plate, and she saw that her parents were staring at her. Riley's mother looked slightly worried, her father was simply curious. She swallowed what was in her mouth. "Yeah, I'm fine," she answered as she turned back to her plate of eggs and toast, using the fork to flick a piece into her mouth with a passive-aggressive impatience. "There's something I have to do today. I want to stay focused."

"Alright." Riley's mother shrugged, going back to her own breakfast and deciding not to be pushy.

Riley's father, to her left, shifted to a more relaxed curiosity. He lowered a newspaper he was reading. "What would you be doing on a Saturday?"

"I'm getting together with my friends, and we're going to do our Social Studies essay."

"When is it due?"

"Next Wednesday."

"Oh," her mother was looking up again. "You have plenty of time, then. I mean..." She was looking off, and then looked back, raising her eyebrows slightly. "There's no cause to be all tense, right?"

She just shrugged at this, then went back to eating.

Breakfast continued like this for another full minute. Then it was Riley who spoke. "Hey, Dad, I've wanted to ask something."

"Yeah, shoot." He said half-indifferently, focused on what he was reading.

"What kind of work do you do?"

"Mm?" Surprised at this question, he lowered his paper again and looked directly at her.

Inside of Riley's Father's mind, his five emotions, headed by his Anger, were seated at a broad control deck. Their surroundings were earthen-colored, and resembled the bridge of a submarine.

"We have a situation, gentlemen." His Anger said to the other four. "Riley is curious about our work, and we have a chance to talk about it."

"We can give it to her straight, or try to filter it, sir." His Fear reported. "What's the call?"

His Anger was musing, quizzically rubbing his chin. "How old is she again..?"

"Twelve, sir."

Anger nodded. "Give her the Micky Mouse analogy."

The other four emotions got to work. "Understood. Loading Micky Mouse analogy now." A framework was wheeled into the control room from the leftward side. It contained an array of long, cylinder-shaped light bulbs. This mobile frame was connected to the control console by high-voltage cables.

"Idea loaded, and... execute!" The bulbs on the frame lit, signifying the go-ahead.

"I work for a tech start up company." Riley's Father answered.

"What do you do there?"

"Well..." He turned his fork around in the air, making it seem like he was looking for the words. "You know how Mickey mouse is really super popular, and everybody knows who he is?" He was leaning in now, attentive.

She nodded, "yeah, of course. I've never had to explain who he is to anybody; they already know."

"At a start up company," he continued, "we try all sorts of different things, and see if just one of them will be like Mickey Mouse; something that will work and that people would want, and which will grow until everybody knows what it is."

"You... draw cartoon characters?"

"Well no," he clarified. "It's a different field, but the principle is the same."

Riley crooked her head a bit. "Are you suggesting that when Disney thought of Mickey Mouse, he was throwing everything at the wall to see what would stick?"

He raised his finger, about to say something. But then he paused. A few more seconds, and he lowered it, relaxed, and shrugged. "Maybe he was, you never know. What's important, Riley, is the result."

Riley's mother observed this conversation with a slight bewilderment.

Inside Riley's Mother's mind, her emotions were manning a U-shaped conference table.

"This is odd." Her Sadness announced from the head of the table. "Riley has diverted from her normal pattern."

"She's usually uninterested when the Husband talks about work." Said her Fear.

"He thought of a more interesting way to explain it than usual," her Joy argued.

"But that doesn't explain why it was Riley who brought it up," said her Anger. "Something is definitely fishy."

"Alright, alright." her Sadness said in a patronizing tone, patting her hands down. "We'll get a word in edgewise, and steer the conversation. Load up a topic."

Her Disgust hit a combination of keys, then enter, and a memory orb was loaded and projected on screen.

She waited for her moment, and then interjected, "I've heard that there's-"

"I have to go. Thanks for making breakfast, mom." Riley got up on her feet, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. She was out the door before anybody could debate. It was barely light outside, and the streetlamps were still lit.

Riley's father was not far behind. "It's about time I headed out too. Burning the Saturday oil." He pecked his wife on the cheek. "I'll see you tonight." He headed out the door only ten seconds after Riley did.

She was left alone at the table. Slightly bewildered, in that both her husband and daughter did the exact same thing, and it didn't look like they planned to or coalesced.

Riley's mother took a deep sigh before she finished eating. She muttered something, which she would only ever say in private. "Exactly like him, fate has decided..." she played with her food with her fork, slowly, patiently meditating with drowsy eyes. "Maybe we could have second kid..."

The Foreman of the Thought Foundry was pacing feverishly. The place was in chaos, and the light amount of security forces stationed at the Foundry had not reported back. He turned to his radio operator. "What's the word from Headquarters?"

"I'm trying to reestablish contact, but still nothing. I think they knocked out our aerial."

"It's fine, everybody." He said to the nervous-looking Workers of the control room who'd remained at their posts. "They'll realize something's wrong, and send help. We just need to hold out a bit longer."

There was a tap on glass from outside. He turned, and saw the three irregulars suspended on cable harnesses outside the control room window panes. One of them leveled a rifle. The Foreman ducked for cover as the red beam of heat energy melted through the glass and shot across the room. The beam went well over the consoles and other equipment as it moved about.

A wide hole was melted through the window, and the Irregulars hopped inside one by one. "Everybody please remain calm." The female Irregular announced as the other two moved through the room, their rifles clearly visible in a ready to shoot posture. "Who is in charge, here?"

The Foreman stood up straight, slowly, with his hands raised nervously.

She walked up to his elevated spot, her rifle cradled relaxedly in her hands. "Tell these people... That everything's going to be fine, and as long as they behave they won't get hurt..." She freed up a hand and rolled it in the air in indication, looking at the Foreman intently. Getting the signal, he immediately repeated what she told him.

"..Stay put and don't do anything stupid, and all will be golden. That is all, thank you for your cooperation."

"Who operates the elevators?" The skinny Irregular with spectacles asked this out loud. When one of the terminal operators raised a hand, he walked over to him. "Undo the lockdown on the elevator leading here, if you would."

The operator complied, and a minute later of silence, while the control room people were held up by the three people with guns, the elevator came up. Joy was on the elevator. She entered the control room, scanning her surroundings.

"The control room is secured, Sir." Lambda reported

Joy was nodding slowly at this. "Every Worker except the Foreman is to wait in the lobby. Iota, see to this."

"Let's go, people!" Iota said as they rose from their seats and filed toward the elevator. Iota and a handful more were the first to go down.

Joy headed up to the elevated spot where Lambda, Gamma and the Foreman were.

The Foreman saw her, and scowled. "Sigma. I should have known it was you behind this. Always lying and manipulating to get up the ladder."

"You have me mistaken for someone else. I'm Joy."

"Liar. You're Sigma. Joy would never pull this kind of thing. Don't you realize you're disrupting an important operation? Don't you care about Riley's mental health?"

Joy froze at this. She gripped a handrail next to the brief flight of stairs she'd just climbed without altering her straight posture. She could not find the words to say to that. Suddenly she wanted to curl up, sink into the ground and wait for everything to go away before coming out again.

The Foreman continued: "You're not doing anything worth anything with this. You're out for yourself-"

Gamma hit the Foreman in the back with the butt of his rifle. The blow reduced the Foreman to his knees. "Shut your freaking mouth!" He grabbed the Foreman's hair and raised his face to look up at Joy. Gamma was looking up at her as well, expectantly. "Joy, what do you want done with this disrespectful prick?"

Joy's unnoticed breathing pattern evened out again, and she let her hand slide off the handrail. Still standing in place, the pupils of her eyes widened, relaxed. "That's enough, Gamma. He can't do anything."

Gamma let go of the Foreman's hair, and stood straight again.

"I want you to head down to the lobby. Check up with Iota, then with Ivory Tower at the tram station. Report back to me."

"Mmhm, you got it." Gamma saluted loosely, and then walked naturally down the brief flight of steps of the elevation, then toward the elevator.

Once he was gone, Joy turned to Lambda. "Lambda, I'm a little nervous. I had no idea that Gamma was... like that."

Lambda moved one eyeball out from watching the Foreman climb back on his feet. "Oh, yes. He's a class A wise guy, that one. And I think he's taken a liking to you."

Joy was frowning. "He's not... volatile, is he?"

She shrugged. "Treat him right and let him play cards on Saturdays, and he'll break anybody's legs for you."

"He's a violent thug, far as I'm concerned." This remark came from the Foreman, who was back on his feet.

"Foreman!" Joy greeted as though he'd just entered the room. "I need to question you: Do you have a direct line to Headquarters in here?"

He frowned at this question, his lips remaining tight.

"We can call Gamma back up here, if you'd like," said Lambda to the Foreman.

The Foreman looked at her now, becoming more visibly nervous.

"Lambda no." Joy retorted. "I don't think threatening someone is an effective motivator. I'd rather get him to warm up to us."

Joy and Lambda had made eye contact, and they exchanged an invisible nod before turning back to the Foreman.

Lambda raised a hand at her, "please don't concern yourself, Joy. He'll give you what you want. I just have to snip off a few fingers." She was leaning in and grinning, having brandished a pair of hedge trimmers.

Joy looked at the Foreman, haplessly trying to smile and shrug. "Look buddy, I like you. I think you're fine. But I can't stop my people once they've tasted blood."

Lambda grabbed his wrist and wrestled him down onto a table, pinning his hand on the console table. "We'll start with the thumbs."

He shifted his wrestled down face to look at Joy. "You, help me, please."

Joy just shrugged at this. "If you'd just answer my questions- oh, and address me by my proper name, she wouldn't have to hurt you."

His mouth shut, and be became tight-lipped again.

"You certain?" She had a genuinely sad look. "This is not a joyful state of affairs."

"You... you can't do this, you maniac!" he suddenly burst out in defiance.

"This little piggy went to the market!" Lambda closed the trimmers around his thumb.

"Okay!" he squealed before the trimmers applied the pressure that would separate his thumb. "I give! I give up, Joy. Ask whatever you want."

Lambda released him, and Joy clasped her hands behind her back. "Does this office have a direct video line to headquarters?"

"Yes," he said.

"Splendid! Once we've fixed the aerial, I'd like to make a call."

"Go on, get out of here." Lambda said to the Foreman, who promptly headed for the elevator.

Joy crashed in one of the desk chairs on the elevation, loosening and relaxing. "I suppose we ended up reverting to Plan A, didn't we?"

Lambda went over to a coffee machine with a half-full carafe, situated on a table in the corner spot of the elevation. "I do enjoy a good 'Good Cop Bad Cop' routine. You did good."

"Thanks."

"I can't believe Omega turned on you. He always was hard to read, that one."

"Should I be worried about Gamma as well?"

"Nah," Lambda had two prepared cups of coffee and situated herself on a desk chair across from Joy. "Gamma's not hard to read; you know what he'll do. Omega, though..."

"A man of few words, yes?"

"I couldn't exactly have any talks with him." She'd finished one of the cups of coffee already, and was slurping from the second. "Now, what's your plan for the Foundry? All that talk about it being yours. Do you plan on running it?"

"I plan on calling Headquarters, getting an update and letting them know I'm coming back. As long as I'm away, Riley can only feel Anger, Disgust, Fear or Sadness."

"No running the Foundry, then."

"I've caused enough of a disruption. This place has enough problems without me raising hell in my sojourn away from here."

"Right," Lambda said sarcastically. "Because this place was just an exemplar of organization and productivity, before you came along and ruined the master plan."

Joy looked at her. "I'm not going to absolve myself of responsibility."

"That's great, but it means you can't absolve other people of responsibility either. Otherwise you're not being fair, are you?"

She frowned, "I..."

"Take it from somebody who's been stationed here a few months: This place is a clown show. It was a clown show before the shortage, and it was a clown show before you showed up here. Riley's Thought Foundry is a joke, full of inefficient bureaucracy and halfhearted disinterest. They built it inside a mountain, just so the sight of its gray and dispassionate machinery wouldn't displease the view from Headquarters; what does that tell you?"

"Is it... because Riley is a girl?"

Lambda shook her head. "You might be overly self-conscious because she's a girl, but no. it's because she's young, and her brain is going to make a million sets of a million mistakes each..." Lambda was looking at Joy intently. "Before finding something that works."

Riley Anderson awaited her friends at their designated meeting place: The corner picnic table, in an unused rec room of their hockey rink. The place was closed that day, but they all had keys to the back door. When Jordan and Kaede entered the rec room, she awaited them with a small grin on her face, mirroring that of Anger at the console.

"And that's why I think The Frozen Heart is filled with neo National Socialist subtext. Find the right angle, and the lid slides off like a slippery salmon." Kaede was speaking to Jordan as they walked through the door.

"Uh huh, fascinating." he replied halfheartedly as he shut the door behind them. "Riley." He greeted. "Are we skating today, or what?"

She shook her head, "guess again." She indicated a large, vacant metal bird cage. Inside of the cage was the cardboard box of a large pizza.

"You got pizza..." Jordan was staring at it. "And I don't smell a hint of broccoli."

"Mm hm," Riley nodded. "I know some people, who know some people, who owned a dog that once belonged to some people. And those people set me up."

"Why is it inside the bird cage?"

Riley had a key, its ring hanging through her index finger. She closed her hand around it and slipped it in her pocket. "Nobody gets a bite, until..." She indicated three arrayed notebooks on the picnic table.

"No..." His face drooped. "No, no no no- you're gonna make us work!"

"We have to do it, you guys." Riley took a seat at the table. "Do join me."

"I..." Jordan was scratching his curly hair. "I haven't had a pizza without broccoli in years. You're an exploiter!" He was shaking a pointed finger at Riley.

"I'll unlock the cage when all three of us are finished. Do have a seat."

"It, it-it-it-" He walked briskly up to the locked cage. "It's gonna get cold!"

"Then we'd best hurry."

They both joined Riley across from her on the picnic table. Kaede had a quiet smile on her face.

Jordan opened his notebook. "We're going to be out of pencils before this is over."

Riley laid a fistful of them on the table between the three.

"You... you just thought of everything." He grumbled.

"You'll thank me." She had a smirk as her face was directed down into her notebook.