That day, before class, Quentin found a mail-received notice on his dorm room door. He had written his parents after he arrived at the AEC and had given them his campus address. He told them again where he was and why, and finally, he told them he liked boys. No answer, until now.
The letter, from his father, had been brief: You choose to defile your body with another boy. You choose to be educated by those who would e*****e us to alien machines, who came here, speaking a strange tongue that they make us learn, unwanted, unasked for. If we were to move, leave this place, we would not tell you. You have made your choice. There is no place for you here.
John-Caleb had saved a seat for him in Personal Histories. On the way to class, Quentin decided maybe he would tell John-Caleb what his fa
