The cube arrived during a thunderstorm.
Maya heard the front door bang downstairs, followed by her father calling, “Package for the scientist!” She hurried into the kitchen wearing one sock and carrying a pencil behind her ear. Rain rattled against the windows. On the lab table—a rescued desk pushed beneath the brightest lamp—sat a wooden crate no larger than a loaf of bread.
It had no return address. No shipping label. Only a black symbol burned into the lid: a tiny cube with one corner shining like a star.