“Shallow breaths, increased heart rate, you’re having a panic attack,” a stiff female voice said in Khoush. “I am,” I whispered. I didn’t like for my astrolabe to speak, but Professor Okpala had had me set it to speak whenever I had a panic attack. I’d protested back then, but now I understood why. “I suggest you drop into mathematical meditation.” The voice was coming from my pocket, in which my astrolabe was warming and vibrating gently. “If I . . . do, I learn . . . nothing,” I gasped.
