Back at ground floor, Laurence wandered the old industrial park that Milton Dirth had refurbished. People in dark uniforms guarded the perimeter. Nobody was allowed in or out without Milton’s verbal permission—and nobody had seen Milton in weeks. All phones, personal computers, and Caddies were confiscated on arrival at this campus, and none of the computers were connected to the internet. There was an intranet, plus someone had created internal mirrors of a number of scientific and technical websites. They did have a TV with CNN, so they’d been able to keep track of the slow-motion emergency: Chinese saber-rattling in the South China Sea, Russian troops massing, the water wars. People, people they knew personally, in refugee camps full of disease back east. But there was no way Laurence could get a message to Patricia, or find out how she was doing.

The building where Laurence worked (and lived, in a converted office with bunk beds) was the former headquarters of a start-up company called HappyFruit, Inc., which had marketed fruit that was genetically modified to include a tiny amount of antidepressants. “SQUEEZE THE JOY OUT OF LIFE” read one poster with a cartoon papaya that Laurence saw from his top-bunk perch every night. The first day or so, the idea of camping out at a start-up had seemed thrillingly surreal. Now, he was over it. At least HappyFruit had encouraged its employees to jog, so there were three showers. For a hundred people. The whole place smelled like dead otters.

Laurence took his time walking along the tar path, past the leafless cedar tree and the Dumpster where the smokers smoked. He was rehashing what he would say to Patricia if she were here. And drawing out the afterglow of seeing the completed Pathway to Infinity, before he had to go back to his little office and the crushing disappointment of failing to balance the gravity equations.

Back at the office that Laurence shared with Anya and Sougata, though, Laurence’s chair was occupied. Isobel sat and gazed at Laurence’s computer, but not as if she was reading anything.

“Hey,” Laurence said. “I saw the machine. It’s the most beautiful thing.”

“Yeah.” Isobel smiled, but she had her usual wreath of sadness.

Laurence said, “Listen, can you help me get a phone?” At the same time that Isobel said, “Milton is back.” Then they were both like, “You first.” Laurence won—so Isobel went first.

“Milton is back. He wants me to bring you and the others up to his office right away. I think things are about to get interesting around here.” She stood, to lead Laurence away, and then remembered. “What were you trying to say, before?”