They call us militants and terrorists. They argue that change takes time. But there is no time. We can no longer live in a world culture where the rich are allowed to believe that their way of life has no consequences, that they can use whatever they want and throw away whatever they want, that they are immune to catastrophe. I know that it’s not easy to have your eyes opened. It’s not fun. We will all have to be strong. The coming events will test us in ways we cannot yet imagine.

The link flashes Join Us Join Us Join Us.

He studies the Eden’s Gate townhomes closest to the double-wide, looking for the ones with no signs of life, whose owners are clearly somewhere else, and on the fifteenth of May, while Bunny is working a dinner shift at the Pig N’ Pancake, he crosses the backyard past the egg-shaped boulder and hops the ranch-rail fence and scurries through the shadows trying various windows. When he finds one that is unlocked, he climbs through the blinds and stands in the dimness.

The oven clock sends a soft green glow through the kitchen.

The modem is in the hall closet. The network name and password are taped to the wall. For a few breaths he stands in someone else’s life: a magnet on the refrigerator reads Beer: The Reason I Wake Up Every Afternoon; a framed family photo on the sideboard; the lingering odors of coffee and last weekend’s Crock-Pot; an empty dog bowl by the pantry. Four ski helmets hang on hooks by the front door.

In the grocery store, people push carts full of brightly packaged food, none of them realizing they stand beneath the towering wall of a dam about to give way. A boxed cake studded with blue and yellow frosting-stars that says Congratulations, Sue is seventy-five percent off. He keeps his ear defenders on in the checkout line.

When Bunny gets home she pulls off her shoes and says, “What’s this?”

Seymour sets two pieces of cake on plates and carries over the blue Ilium smart speaker. Bunny looks at him. “I thought—”

“Try it.”

She leans over the capsule. “Hello?”

A little green light draws a circle around the rim. Hello. It sounds vaguely British. I’m Maxwell. What’s your name?

Bunny claps her hands to her cheeks. “I’m Bunny.”

Lovely to meet you, Bunny. Happy birthday. What may I do for you this evening?

She looks at Seymour, mouth open.

“Maxwell, I would like to order a pizza.”

Absolutely, Bunny. What size?

“Large. With mushrooms. And sausage.”

One moment, says the capsule and the green dot trundles and she grins her beautiful doomed smile and Seymour feels the world around him crumble a little bit more.