His dad was always telling him it was the freaks that ended up doing the great things. It was the freaks who became dotcom billionaires, famous inventors, movie directors, rock stars… even presidents. The jocks, on the other hand, ended up selling real estate or managing Wal-Mart stores. And the Hannah Montanas ended up becoming stay-at-home moms, getting fat, bored and lonely.

Ahead of the coach he could see a cluster of pale buildings emerging from the ochre drabness, and presently they slowed down and stopped at a security checkpoint. The other kids on the coach, about thirty of them, all a couple of years older than Edward, began to bob in their seats, craning their necks to look at the armed security guards and the lab buildings up ahead.

‘Please stay seated for the moment, guys,’ said Mr Whitmore over the coach’s PA system.

Edward stretched to look over the headrest of the seat in front of him. He saw a man climb up the steps on to the coach. A smart man in a pale linen suit. He shook hands with Mr Whitmore, the school principal who was chaperoning the students.

‘Right, guys, I’m going to hand you over to Mr Kelly, who is from the institute. He’s going to be showing us around the facilities today.’

Mr Kelly took the microphone from him. ‘Good morning, boys and girls. Let me first say welcome to the institute. It’s an honour to have you kids come and visit. As I understand it, you guys have all been nominated by your various schools to come along today because you’re all straight-A students?’

Whitmore shook his head. ‘Not quite, Mr Kelly. “Most-improved performers”. Students who’ve most clearly demonstrated a willingness to learn. We have all levels and abilities here on this coach, from schools right across the state, but what they all have in common is the spectacular improvement in their year-end SATs scores. These students are the ones who’ve worked the hardest to better themselves.’