19
We’re taken to some kind of ritzy clubhouse. It’s in the middle of an impressive-looking housing community. A house here must cost millions. I didn’t even know a place like this existed in Brooklyn—it’s more like something you’d expect to see in Miami. Such a lavish compound sort of makes sense, though; Readers should be able to find a bunch of creative ways to make money given their abilities. Or, more accurately, our abilities. I need to get used to the idea that I’m a Reader, I remind myself, remembering the snafu with Caleb earlier.
Inside the clubhouse are an indoor pool, a large fancy restaurant, and a bar. Caleb takes us further in, into what looks like some kind of meeting room.
A dozen people of different ages are here, looking at us intently.
“That really is Eugene,” says
