“Who got shot in that footage I saw.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

I held my breath. I still didn’t really buy that this thing worked, even after her pen gag. And I didn’t really want any part in it yet. But still—I let the lights of the dials lure me in like one of the jellyfish clouding the water that sloshed through the streets around my apartment back home. Kaori stepped back to give me a bubble of silence with the machine, letting me lean to it and whisper, “What happened to Figueiredo and his husband?”

Almost immediately the thin slit of the printer beneath the nearest screen sizzled to life, whirring out a sheet of paper covered in a digital aneurysm of letters and numbers. Narrow it down, Kaori told me. I tried again.

“Did Figueiredo and his husband survive the riot?”

The constellation of tiny dots in the next printout didn’t help much. You are alive. Thanks, spirits from the beyond, for all your help.

“Any luck?” Kaori asked.

“No.” I crammed the last printout into the pocket of my shorts.

“Well—the machine has to calibrate to you, perhaps. I’m here most nights. Come down if you want and we can use it together.”

So unbearably breezy and cool. And of course she snared me.

“Really? I figured you’d rather be alone.”

“The others…” She flicked her hand around the room as if to say, everyone in this whole place. “You know, they’re a little scared of me. Which I don’t mind. I might even like. But you’re not trailing me looking for a gold star. Which is refreshing.”

“Thanks?”

“Besides, the calibrations are monotonous. You can entertain me.”

“I’ll start practicing my shtick.”

“Don’t make me regret this. I’ll just replace you with a stereo.”

“Fair.” I could be her jester for a while, cartwheeling around the Theater. I had to bite back a yawn. “Well, I should be heading off to one of those boxes you cram your staff in and try to get some sleep. Good night, Dr. Nakamori.”

“Call me Kaori. If you absolutely must.”