“They’re assembling a team. The kind of … people you deal with.” My father was too rational to dispute the contributions of the recons and hybrids in our midst, but he’d never been able to hide his mistrust of them. “They need a Synthesist,” he said. “Isn’t it lucky you’ve got one in the family.” Radio bounced back and forth. “This isn’t nepotism, Siri. I wanted very much for them to pick someone else.” “Thanks for the vote of conf—
