“Four, at least, according to her last letter. The Kongo Technology Center doesn’t keep an inventory of planes that are out of commission.”

“Then how can she know four are missing?” Saxon asked.

“At least four! And she knows because she’s a staff engineer at the KTC, she knows what’s missing. And besides the planes, let’s not forget there are other issues.” She paused, then whispered, “Kumar’s project. Were you able to track down its authorization papers?”

“Well, no,” Saxon said.

“No government authorization, and yet he’s utilizing government funds. It’s evidence of a secret project. The question is not how many planes are missing, but what possible purpose the Director could have for misdirecting them?”

Behind my tower of books, I stifled a sneeze. Even I could answer that question. The hydroplanes were an English invention, an irrigation solution to the scorched earth we were left with after the War. Around the clock, the solar-powered water planes shuttled between the Atlantic Ocean and the Kongo, desalinating and transporting millions of gallons of water a day. Along with the solar reflectors, that regulated the temperature of the Earth, hydroplanes made it possible for the workers to harvest all year round. They had only one purpose. If the Director was appropriating planes from the KTC, the reason was undoubtedly to rehydrate unauthorized land so that it might support life.

Teacher Saxon began a ticking sound with her tongue, a sure sign she felt overwhelmed.

Teacher Rowan’s tone was soothing. “Forget all I’m telling you,” she said. “I want you to focus on what you know—firsthand.”

The ticking stopped. “About the textbooks, you mean?” Saxon said.

“Yes.”

“I’ve asked Director Kumar countless times for more but he said the Assembly Senators wouldn’t approve funding.”

“According to him,” Rowan purred.

Teacher Saxon went on. “I asked to use the KTC communication unit, so that I might address the Assembly myself.”

“And? Did he let you use the comm-unit?”

“You know he didn’t!”

“I do know!” Rowan agreed, stoking Saxon’s indignation.

“That’s one reason why Teacher Alberta and I are against him. With the comm-unit, you could have broadcasted your plea by holograph and reached the entire American Assembly in an instant.” She snapped her fingers. “But he wouldn’t let you near it—why?”

“Well, he said it would create unrest in the workers.”

“Perhaps, if you projected the image in the outfields. But you wouldn’t have done that.”

“He said it was unseemly for an English Teacher to be so involved with Kongo children.”

Rowan scoffed.

“He said an audience with the Assembly would only be granted in important cases.”

“Is a textbook not important at a Schoolhouse?” Rowan asked. “I say it is!”

I imagined Teacher Saxon nodding. Her loose red curls bouncing around her head.