"So," the lawyer held out both hands, palm up. "Good news and bad news."

"Good news first," said Roger, rubbing his own palms on his twill workpants, trying to dry them.

"Well, I was able to pull a few strings to get some info on MariLuz. Turns out her grandmother is an elder of sorts in a clan of the Tarasco tribe in Michoacan. That means, if we can get her out of Approval, and into Mexico, she has a home, and tribal custom says that as her family, so do you and Chuchito. Legally, it should be doable, as Compassionate Deportation, from Patriot IV, or from Native Repatriation, from Reservation Protection II. That's the one that is typically used to root out Native Americans and transfer them to Reservations, but since Mexico is now only semi-autonomous, meaning it is technically under US jurisdiction, we can also argue that MariLuz has the option to waive Approval status and request Repatriation."

"Great," Roger felt a shiver of hope, but kept his emotions in check. "What's the bad news?"

"The bad news," replied Ben, "is that you'd be living in a mountain village so remote that almost no one there has ever seen a car. Only a handful of people speak Spanish, and those that do speak it as a distant second language. You'll have to learn Tarasco. There is no electricity, no running water, no telephone, and you'll live out your lives there living in a house made of sticks and leaves, maybe a little mud in winter, and you'll survive on whatever you can scratch out by walking behind an ox and an iron plow."

"with MariLuz and Chuchito?'

"Yes, all three of you."

Roger grinned. "I thought you said there was BAD news. How soon can we go?"