“Oh, Sparrow, come on,” Dana said. “Was it scary?”

Well, that was my opening. I could make a great story out of it — Dana would love it.

“It was like walking through a cloud of human-sized gnats. It was annoying. They stink.” That would have gotten me nine eggshells on my doorstep from a hoodoo, but I didn’t think the Jammers would mind slander. And Dana’s sense of romance could never tolerate bad smells.

“Y’know,” Cassidy said, “the Jammers are the only people who aren’t alone.” I looked at him, but his eyes were on some middle distance over my shoulder. “I mean, none of us can know what’s going on in each other’s heads. We all agree” — he shrugged, hunting words — “on what color the sky is. But how do we know we’re seeing the same color? That’s lonely, man, that’s cold.” He shook his head.

“But the Jammers are supposed to be in each other’s heads all the time, right? So there’s always somebody who knows exactly what it’s like.” He stopped, and blinked.

It was one of those moments of genuine, unalloyed thought that sometimes came on him, appearing out of his mental mists like synaptic ghost ships. I found that my gaze had fallen on Dana, and that she was watching me with the idle patience of a cat.

I stood up. “I have to go. I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.” Cassidy’s bleak and startled face was a rebuke. I pushed the glass across the table to him and strode out, heading up again.

I didn’t get far; Dana’s confiding, confining hand on my arm stopped me. “Sparrow,” she said, low against the background noise of the Fair. “You can’t be alone all the time, honey. If you’re in some kind of trouble, and I can help, you come to me, hear?” Perfect skin, flawless hair, costly clothes, and the time to involve herself in other people’s business. If throwing money and influence at the problem could solve it, she probably could help. “Thank you, Dana,” I said. “But there’s really nothing wrong.” This time when I moved off, she didn’t follow.

Maybe secrets are toxic to the organism. Maybe, when kept long enough, they always produced the intellectual and emotional nausea that had suddenly made me want to match Cassidy drink for drink. Born alone in our skulls; living alone there; dying alone. With the grave, then, to keep the secrets. For a moment I’d wanted, desperately, not to be alone, the way people in hiding for too long will dash out into daylight, in front of the guns, just to end the waiting.

I walked through the Fair: shrill and brittle and tawdry, a savorless night with anger lying just under its curling edges. A while ago this had been my country, and I’d returned to it relieved and glad. Now it was as welcoming as a carnival midway. Give us your money and get out. Strings of bulbs giving half their rated light reflected in puddles of what might have been water. Hucksters called from their booths as if everyone’s first name was Hey.