“But some every single night, like they used to. Um, right?”
“Well, I don’t suppose I’ll make you put in eight hours,” he said. “As long as you get down to REM.”
I nodded, pretending I had some idea what “REM” was, while I was thinking, Eight hours a night? How did olden-day people get anything done? Most months I skipped my one hour of brainsmoothing.
A hint of panic must have crept onto my face, because Solomon said, “I believe that some ancients slept as little as three or four hours a night. Perhaps you can do some research on the matter.”
I smiled sheepishly, just thankful that I’d escaped bubonic plague.
IT’S NOT LIKE KIERAN Black was cute or anything. His outdoorsy mania had a certain charm, the way he teleported to classes straight from Antarctica, icicles clinging to his hair, lips freshly chapped by freezing winds. And he’d been attractively clueless that day, not realizing that hanging out at the South Pole was pretty much a Scarcity project already. I mean, who went outside in the cold these days?
So when class ended, I decided to take pity on him.
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