PERSUASION WAS LENNON’S last class of the day, and she arrived just a few moments before the period began. The class‑ room was already full, students seated behind all but one of the twelve desks in the room. On each of them, there was a small glass cage that contained a single live rat. Dante stood at the front of the classroom—dressed smartly, in wool trousers and a white button‑down, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows to expose tattooed forearms. If he had any memory of their encounter outside of Irvine Hall, he gave no indication. “Lennon, nice of you to join us. Have a seat.” She claimed a desk in the middle of the room, stared into the cage in front of her. The rat on the other side of the glass was dun brown with a little white patch on its left ear. He was shaking. “I have no idea if you’re a boy or a girl, but I’m going to call you Gregory because you look like one,” said Lennon in a whisper, and the rat looked up at her, nose twitching, as if he understood.   “What’s the difference between training and an act of…