I don’t know when the hell she learned to do that. I’m not going to question it, though, and apparently neither is John.

“Hi,” John says, holding up his hand. A few people in the crowd mutter greetings. “My name’s John Smith. We’re what’s left of the Loric.”

John walks around the table. He ends up standing right next to Setrákus Ra.

“I guess you probably saw what we saw, right? Well, that story ends with Setrákus Ra here coming back to our planet, Lorien, and massacring everyone on it. Everyone except for us.” He lets this sink in for a moment before continuing. “If you aren’t sure what that has to do with you, well, maybe you’ve noticed all the alien warships on the news? Setrákus Ra is here. He’s going to do to Earth what he did to Lorien. Unless we stop him.”

John tries to make eye contact with as many people in the audience as possible. He’s really doing the whole leader thing pretty well.

“I don’t mean we as in my, uh, friends here sitting around the table,” John continues. “I mean you and us. Everyone in this room.”

That gets the kids in the crowd murmuring. The crying Hawaiian kid has at least stopped sobbing long enough to listen, but now I see his eyes darting around for an exit.

“I know this seems crazy. It also probably doesn’t seem fair,” John continues. “A few days ago, you were leading normal lives. Now, without warning, there are aliens on your planet and you can move objects with your minds. Right? I mean . . . is there anyone here that can’t do telekinesis yet?”

A few hands go up, including the crying boy’s.

“Oh, wow,” John says. “So you guys must be really confused. Try it when you get out of here. Just, uh . . . visualize something in your house moving through the air. Really focus on it. It’ll work, I promise. You’ll amaze yourself and probably freak out your parents.” John thinks for a moment. “Has anyone developed any other powers, besides telekinesis? We call them Legacies, by the way. Anyone else . . . ?”

A guy in one of the middle rows stands up. He’s stout with a shock of brown hair and he reminds me of a stuffed animal. When he speaks it’s with a slight German accent.

“My name is Bertrand,” he says, nervously looking around. “My family, we are beekeepers. Yesterday, I noticed, um, the bees . . . they talk to me. I thought I was going crazy but the swarm goes where I tell them to, so . . .”

“What a nerd,” Nine whispers to me. “Beekeeper.”