“Sure, sure,” said Laurence. “Of course. Soul of discretion. No worries at all. Just please, please, if you can, please help. I will be in your debt forever.” He was climbing the stairs behind her and as they reached the top step, Patricia turned and practically glared at him.

“Never, ever say that to me.” Incandescent.

“Say what?”

“The thing about being in my debt. It has a different meaning for me than it does for most people.”

“Oh. Oh, right. Okay. Well, I will be super-grateful. Anyway, it’s over here.”

Sougata, Anya, and Tanaa stared at the shining white circle under the big ray-gun barrel, and didn’t acknowledge Patricia’s arrival until she was standing next to them.

“What’s she doing here?” Sougata said.

“She can help,” Laurence said. “I can’t explain. But she can help.”

“What’s her area of expertise again?” Anya folded her arms over her unicorn shirt.

“Dimensional transcendentalism,” said Patricia.

“You just stole that from Doctor Who. This is not a joke, this is serious,” Anya said.

“Okay, look,” Patricia said. “Do you guys want your friend back or not?” Everybody nodded slowly. “Then just stand the fuck back and let me work.”

Everybody kept clustering around Patricia and trying to see what she was doing, and Laurence worried that she was going to put so much energy into obfuscation that she wouldn’t be able to reach into the hole in the universe and pull Priya out. Patricia was wearing a strapless red dress that teased you with the sweep of her pale shoulders and a hint of cleavage. As she turned her back to Laurence and stared into the space over the white circle, he couldn’t help noticing the dimples behind her knees and the perfect curves of her calves and ankles.

Laurence still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to Priya. He had no real data. She’d floated, the way Ben and the various objects had. Her sandals had fallen as her feet lifted off, and her bright toenails had wriggled. She’d laughed and clapped her hands and said, “Suck on this, Newton!” Everybody was high-fiving and making upskirting jokes … and then she’d just gone “pop.” It was sort of a balloon-popping, squelching sound, as if something sucked her into an invisible hole. All that remained were her sandals, one of which was upside down. Laurence had felt a compulsion to pick them up and place them neatly beside each other next to the beanbag, as if she’d come back for them in a moment.