Shizuka grabbed one herself and took a bite. The texture was crunchy, then soft. And with a little chopped leek, a little ground ginger, some chili, the flavor was delicious.

They ate in silence, with Shizuka fuming and Lan too petrified to say anything else.

“Well,” Shizuka finally said. “Forget Cantonese. Do you know anything about YouTube and Wi-Fi and the Internet?”

“Ah, your planet’s information system. It’s very impressive, actually. But … Shizuka, you know of advanced civilizations and stargates and holographic projections. How can you not know about your own Internet?”

Shizuka glared.

“No, no! I don’t mean to imply anything. I was just curious. Curious, that’s all.”

“Star Trek was on television. We didn’t need the Internet for that. And I know about the Internet. But why would a violin teacher like me need the Internet? Isn’t my life all about sounds made with a wooden box?”

Lan almost choked on her kidney.

“W-well, you’re going to need Internet access now. So first, hardware. How old is your laptop?”

“Laptop? So I need a laptop?”

Lan sighed, then asked the server for another pot of tea.

Lucy Matía examined the violin’s fingerboard. The ebony was of decent quality. And even better, it already showed signs of wear.

Fingerboard wear can reveal the progression of a student as they move from first position, to third, then to fifth, then back to second. One can learn the disposition of individual players, as well. Were they sloppy? Lazy? How much tension did they keep in their hands?

This student was puzzling. Her intonation was excellent; there were no signs of hesitation, sliding, or stretching into place. This was the almost mindless confidence of a prodigy. Shizuka Satomi was right. Despite her appearances, this student possessed an undeniable brilliance.

Which made the wear on her fingerboard quite odd.

With prodigies, signs of argument appear almost immediately. Strong wings are usually impatient to take off and explore. It was part of being brilliant and daring and free.

Yet this player seemed earthbound, terrified. Yes, her wings were already strong and supple. But her heart did not seem ready to trust the sky.

Lucy took out her most delicate plane. This, at least, she could do.

Fingers were so sensitive; a little difference in the fingerboard could make a violin seem graceful, flirtatious. Even dangerous.

Lucy Matía pushed her plane forward. Slivers of ebony fluttered upon her lap.

When someone needs to fly, sometimes it’s best to pull the ground away.

The next day, Shizuka came downstairs to find Katrina. Her laptop teetered on the corner of the table as usual.

“I’m sorry! I’m just trying to download a video.”

Download? Oh, never mind. She would learn the terminology soon enough. Shizuka reached into her purse and retrieved a small iridescent cube.

“Katrina, here you go.”

“Miss Satomi?”

“That Wi-Fi you wanted.”

“What?”