A long shot starts with a wind call. Snipers read the grass and the mirage. Jumpmasters drop a streamer out the door. He uses a dandelion, the only wind indicator in the inventory that also takes requests. Twenty years of night work, and he still checks the wind the way he did at six. The data book entry reads left to right, four miles an hour, full value. It says nothing about a wish.

THE DEBRIEF

A bearded operator in near-profile, NODs down with a smiley face in each of the four lenses, headset boom mic at his mouth. A hard-knuckle glove pinches a half-blown dandelion at his pursed lips, and the seeds trail up and to the right. His beard hangs over the vest, one flag patch below it. Stippled, one ink, no lettering.