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around in his mouth. He still remembered it, all of it, from solar wind to silly top hat.
    Dad called Lupe into the room. Then he set a plate of fried bread with two spoonfuls of greasy, salty garbanzo beans in front of Gabe. It smelled like greasy, salty poetry.
    Lupe joined them. She wore a black T-shirt with a sparkling pink Superman symbol on the front. She looked impatient. She usually did.
    Dad sat down across the table and folded both hands in front of him. “It is time once again to go over the family emergency plans.”
    Gabe and Lupe groaned.
    â€œShush,” said Dad.
    He did this often. Dad had emergency plans for fire, flood, tornado, car accident, and the sudden disappearance of family members. He had several plans for sudden disappearances. He went through them all, point by point, and quizzed his eldest children on each. He inquired after the location and contents of their jump bags—backpacksstuffed with emergency changes of clothes, cash, snacks, and other supplies. They wouldn’t need to pack first if they ever had to leave the house in a hurry.
    After that Dad proceeded to the silly plans, though he still went through them with the utmost seriousness. Most involved ghosts. Gabe’s father liked ghost stories. He had plans for wailing ghosts, ghosts wearing veils, and ghosts wandering back and forth near ponds, lakes, or the river. He had plans for pirate ghosts, ghosts in mirrors, and ghosts throwing things in the kitchen. He insisted that he had trapped one such spirit in an empty olive jar. “It liked to toss my knives around at night,” he warned them. “Don’t you dare open the olive jar in the very back of the cupboard.”
    Most of the ghost plans fit into the “evacuate immediately” category, though some of them suggested appeasement: find out what the ghost wants and try to give it to them. If the ghost happened to be trapped in an endless, painful, post-traumatic, post-mortal loop and couldn’t stop reenacting the way that it died, then Dad suggested breaking the loop by distracting the ghost somehow. Possible methods of distraction included loud norteño music, which no one in the family actually liked.
    Gabe noticed for the first time that they had no alien-related plans. He wondered how Mom would reactto the suggestion that they plan for aliens, given that she kind of hated science fiction. He also wondered what she would think of his new job. He picked up the saltshaker and then put it down again.
    A strange, metallic shriek came from the basement.
    â€œWhat was that?” Lupe asked. “That sounded spooky. Should we initiate the plan for basement hauntings?”
    Dad stood up to investigate.
    â€œI’ll go,” Gabe quickly volunteered, and ran out of the kitchen.
    He opened the basement door, half-expecting the staircase to swallow him whole.
    It didn’t. The light was on. Gabe was relieved to see that the basement still existed and that light could still escape it. He went halfway down the stairs and peered over the handrail.
    The Envoy sat on top of the half-dismantled dryer with a wrench in its mouth. It had built a wire frame around the appliance with dozens of coat hangers.
    â€œShhhhh,” Gabe whispered.
    The Envoy swallowed the wrench.
    â€œApologies,” it whispered. Then it spit the wrench back out and returned to work.
    Gabe went back to the kitchen table and shrugged. “No ghosts.”
    He ate another helping of spicy garbanzos while they finished going over emergency ghost plans.
    â€œOne more thing,” Dad said. He brought out a box, set it on the table, and removed two cloth-wrapped objects from inside. The shorter of the two he gave to Gabe.
    â€œThis,” he said with solemnity, “is a vajra hammer.”
    Gabe unwrapped the cloth and examined the hammer.
    â€œThat,” said Lupe with tickled scorn, “is a rubber mallet with strings of beads glued on.”
    Dad looked