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down at the screen on his wrist to see that several RF transmissions were closing on him. He quickly surmised they must belong to the uniformed people he’d seen gathering around the light-flashing vehicles parked in front of the house to the west—the ones that had been making so much noise earlier when the man had been unconscious the first time.
    The device indicated these nearby signals were not Ith protocol, but it had also picked up some distant ones that were. They might not yet be close, but Rex and his aspiring Deacons knew he was here. And they would surely be coming.

 
    CHAPTER 12
    Keeping Up Appearances

    On reflection, the most surprising thing was how calm and reasonable everybody was being.
    If the tables had been turned and a big-eyed, small-eared, makeup-wearing Kempton had arrived on the sidewalk in front of the Griffin home back in Hedgerow Heights, Patrick was certain there would have been a code-red freak-out.
    Police departments, fire departments, and—if they’d suspected Kempton really was an alien—scientists in yellow biohazard suits would have been all over the place. Humvees bristling with antennae, quarantine tents, satellite news trucks, helicopters, protest marches …
    Patrick reminded himself this was a dream and so logic was probably at least a little bit out the window.
    The father reemerged from the house and stumbled down the front steps.
    â€œIt’s okay,” he yelled, waving his cell phone at them, “I’ve got my binky!
    â€œAnd,” he said as he got near, “I’ve received a message from the admins that we should introduce ourselves to our guest!”
    â€œSome of us already did,” corrected Oma.
    Mr. Puber regarded his daughter. It seemed to Patrick like he might be considering a list of potential replies and wasn’t finding any suitable to say out loud. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Patrick.
    â€œWell, we’re the Pubers and this—” he said, gesturing behind him at the windowless house, “is our home. So, of course, I’m Mr. Puber, this is Mrs. Puber, and these are our children, Kempton and Oma. And your name is?”
    â€œI’m Patrick,” said Patrick. “Patrick Griffin.”
    â€œWell,” said the man, beaming with pride or, at least, self-importance, “welcome to Ith, Patrick Griffin!”
    â€œThanks, uh, for having me.”
    â€œTell us, honey,” said Mrs. Puber to her husband, “what do the admins wish us to do next?”
    â€œOh, umm, well they wish for us to—” The man’s phone made a note like an electric cricket and he broke off, eyes widening and face turning scarlet even through his makeup.
    â€œWhat’s happened, dear?” said his wife. “You seem flustered!”
    â€œWell, I should say I’m flustered!” the man spluttered. “I’ve just gotten a direct SMS from Deacon Sabrina Kim herself!”
    â€œWHAT!!!??” shouted Kempton.
    â€œAnd she has given us an additional and quite wonderful job ticket!”
    â€œFROM DEACON SABRINA KIM—FOR YOU ?!” asked Kempton. “A PERSONALLY DIRECTED SMS?!!? AND A JOB TICKET ?!!!”
    â€œYes indeed,” said the man, beaming again. “Here, allow me to read:
    Family unit coordinator at 96 Eveningside Drive, The Ministry of Awareness is aware of the arrival of a trans-world emissary at or near your residence. In the interest of full transparency, and to be entirely mindful of the comfort of this distinguished personage, you are hereby granted the profound privilege of providing board, shelter, and entertainment to our visitor. To the purpose of his orientation and greater comfort, you are to provide him a fully immersive experience.
    â€¢ Today, Sixday, Dodecuary 24 th , you will entertain him at your residence so that on-boarding preparations can be made in the wider community. You are to keep him indoors