The birds fell all night, though no one could bring themselves to look. You knew it by the sandbag sounds of their bodies hitting the ground. Inside, they put on scent diffusers and filled the building with the smell of sandalwood and, when that got old, peppermint oil and finally, to bring everyone down after a jittery evening, lavender. In the morning, when the pff … pff had stopped, a pair of groundskeepers in full hazmat tog came up from the technical facility on the other side of the island and cleaned it all up with flamethrowers, not bothering to collect any specimens to send to pathology. Everyone was advised to spend the day indoors. It was another gorgeous day, cloudless, with just a touch of moisture in the air presaging the turn of the season still some ways off. To keep everyone distracted Micah organized a speed Go tournament, nine by nine, “Forget about territory, go for capture, play to lose.” This proved such a success that there was talk of making it a regular feature of the weekly round. Micah smiled, nodding and clapping the guests on the shoulder, though of course he knew this was fantasy and had his own ideas about where he would be come this day next week that had nothing to do with hosting Go tournaments for a band of lost children.