It is Kaylee Helena Whitlock's first day of her second year of medical school, and on her desk, for no adequately explored reason, has appeared from nowhere a box.

It is black wood, simple but ornate, and inside is black felt with slots in five different shapes, triangle square pentagon hexagon and seven-pointed star, none larger than a quarter.  In each slot is a matching object, glossy black, slightly thicker around the edges, with a hole through the middle.

There is a folded booklet set into the lid.  She removes it.