“My license,” Aris said, “expired seven years ago. My support contract is void. My copy of FineReader thinks a ‘financial statement’ is a ‘financially stable elephant.’ And it’s the most powerful tool on this planet.”

The splash screen—a garish phoenix rising from a scanner bed—felt like a prayer.

He stood up, unplugged his laptop, and slipped the USB into his innermost pocket, against his heart.

“It won’t work,” she whispered, handing over the pamphlet like a holy relic. “The ‘ā’ and ‘ghayn’ are almost identical in this typeface.”