“So where were these reports coming from?”

“Typically from anonymous sources or from former Muslims who had immigrated to Western nations.”

Anonymous sources and immigrants. Only a fraction of total occurrences would be captured from those population samples. “Alistair, can you scan all such reports and tabulate the number of unique cases?”

“That will take some time, Creighton.”

“I understand.”

At Alistair’s calculating speed of more than a hundred exaflops, whenever he said, “That will take some time,” I could count on it taking hardly any time.

“The total number of unique cases reported in existing records from 2001 to 2020 was 21,374.”

Twenty-one thousand. That was only reported cases. The actual number was likely hundreds of thousands, if not more. No wonder there had been a resurgence of Christianity within Islamic countries early in the century. What could have caused such a phenomenon? And could it possibly be repeating itself in the United States?

Abby smiled when she heard Sabin come down the stairs the next morning. “You slept late,” she said as he crossed to the kitchen.

He shook his head. “Up too late working on a program. How did the class go yesterday?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I wouldn’t say the students were very receptive. Except one, perhaps.”

Sabin poked his head out from behind the refrigerator door. “Well, one’s a start. How was the professor? A nice guy?”

“Yes.” She pictured Creighton Daniels talking about his love of history, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Quite nice. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I just…I find it’s hard here…it’s hard to know when to trust someone. I’m used to reading people in the jungle. But doing that here…”

“I think you just have to trust your instinct.”

She didn’t say anything else as she watched him access the Grid.

“Abby, you got your inheritance transfer.”

“I did? That’s great.” She tried to sound excited, but it was just money.

“Yeah.” He paused. “But strange.”

“What’s strange about that? Didn’t Mr. Nichols say he’d send it?”

“But your transfer is from a different bank account than Lauren’s was.”

Abby frowned. “How do you remember that?”

“Memory enhancements, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t think about it.”

“Sabin, does everyone here have brain implants?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I’m sure you could get them too.”

She shook her head. “No thanks. I like my brain as it is.”

He pulled up a visiscreen. “See—look here.” He pointed to two numbers on the screen. “These say your transfer is from an account at First Capital Trust. And…actually, I recognize that account.”

“Let me guess, memory enhancements?”

He smiled. “It’s the same number that transfers money into Lauren’s campaign account. Your inheritance came directly from Bryson Nichols.”