"Oh so you are pat-ri-lin-eal," says Alaior, pronouncing carefully.

"Anglia patrilineal, Prussia patrilineal, Genosha doesn't."

"Doesn't?"

"Genosha..." she spreads her hands. "Odette Zavier, Odette Lehnsherr."

"You have two last names?"

She shakes her head.

"What does it mean that your country - is Genosha your country? - doesn't?" asks Alaior's father.

She nods. "Genosha Odette country, Prussia Raikel country, Anglia Karole country. Odette Prussia, Odette Zavier. Odette Anglia, Odette Zavier. Odette Genosha--" she holds out her hands to either side. "Odette Zavier," she says, gesturing with one. "Odette Lehnsherr," she gestures with the other. Then she closes the Zavier hand firmly.

"I can't figure out if she means they let her pick or if it's because her parents' countries agreed on -"

"This is obviously green work, don't hurt yourself."

"Then the senator should answer his priority line in more than an hour and a half, what can possibly be taking so long -"

"Something's always on fire at the Senate."

"Then why even bother calling it a priority line?"

"Parents pick," she explains.

"Well isn't that rather liberal."

"Maybe it's only the names."

"Is anyone else eyeing the last wedge of bread..."

"It's all yours."

"Only the names?"

"Here last names are matrilineal because caste is. When it comes up, but usually people don't mix like that."

"Doesn't caste."

"They're aliens," says Alaior.

"Aliens could have invented castes too."

"They haven't invented electricity."

"Electricity was after castes."

She considers. "India caste, Nihon caste?" she doesn't sound very certain. "Prussia doesn't caste, Anglia doesn't caste, Genosha doesn't caste."

"Oh, it just hasn't spread around yet - maybe they don't have the right ones."

"Where was it that it started here, I forget -"

"Ancient Prato under Confl the Third."

"Showoff."

"India caste long time. Prussia, Anglia, Genosha doesn't caste."

"Mustn't have the right ones."

"Or they're just aliens."

"Obviously they're aliens."

"I mean that they can be different."

"I know what you meant."

She does not look super impressed. "Caste...yellow, blue?"

"And green and grey and purple and orange."

"That's mixed up," protests Alaior, "it isn't how the song goes."

"It doesn't matter, darling."

She considers this. "Red?"

Everyone makes various faces. "That too."

"But they aren't in the song because they're dirty," says Alaior, "and don't go in a song with us or anywhere else."

"Mm."

"If the aliens don't have reds -"

Some of the adults take a step or two back and one picks up Alaior.