He pressed the power button. The unit woke with a quiet, polite chime. A language selection menu appeared. The on-screen characters were Japanese, familiar yet distant. Kenji's fingers hovered. He had learned English at school, but his father had always insisted on Japanese at home; Kenji's English had been practical, not graceful. Still, something in him wanted the screen to be English—an attempt to read across a gap, to translate a distance into something he could hold.