Soon dozens more staff rolled into the Compound. The latest model of White Coat Researcher now came with a two-way radio and a complete disinterest in us plebs in the Footage Farm. At least we got more kitchen staff and were eating more than heat-lamp pizza slices. More funding, Yusuf told me of the improvements and the staff, admitting it was all because of Kaori and her interviews.

The new staff hooked up more machines to the Envisioner and clogged the Theater all hours of the day and night. No more late-night hangouts with me and the black box. I barely saw Yusuf because he had to lead multiple teams, and they were getting close to significant breakthroughs about the early moments of the universe, meaning his mind was never with me even when we were really together anyway.

I wanted to be a supportive partner, but I’d be lying if I said that waiting for him most nights, alone in his room with nothing to watch but the numbers of the digital clock change, was frustrating. I was his sounding board—not like I offered a ton of wisdom—while he spun his brain out loud. His timing wasn’t great, though. One night he kissed up my neck only to whisper a boner-killer in my ear, tomorrow we start sharing data with the Large Hadron-X. Moving out of my little dorm and into his would’ve been easier, but I knew we both needed the space and alone time. He was so spent from talking and coordinating and touching-base—things that practically gave him hives—and I didn’t want him to feel like he had to entertain me. He’d come in late, smelling of dried sweat and anxiety. I’d try to fill the silence for a while, running my thumb over the black hairs on the back of his forearm. Or I’d be half-asleep and he’d fold into me, pressing his back against my chest and letting my breath sweep across his neck.

Out of everything that was going on, I never thought about leaving or that I’d made a mistake. I was just bummed more than anything else that our secret club here was gone.

*   *   *

I can’t say that the world outside was the only thing changing, or even just life at the Compound with its hallways crowded with more staff.

Figueiredo was creeping into me like a disease.