Jan looked fondly on her step-son's science project. The materials were of the simplest: a glass jar, water and alcohol in equal measure, and cooking oil. The oil had now coalesced into a suspended sphere of goldenrod—the dullest of lava lamps, but still fascinating in its way. It occupied pride of place on Erik's bookshelf. Perhaps she should have found him a square jar, to make the ball appear rounder, less squat. She called it his “dragon's eyeball.”

Three nights later, the sphere “spoke” to Erik. It whispered things like “my friend” and “imposters.”

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