‘Not what I was expecting you to say, but if you need to know whether this is natural,’ he runs a hand across his massive bush of curly hair, ‘I can assure you that it is one hundred per cent pure Karim.’

Kat snorts out a laugh and Karim flashes the dimples again.

‘It’s about XGen,’ I say, in a way that makes it clear that this is a time for decisive action and not for being charming and funny. ‘We need to know what time the network went down and if she knows how it happened.’

‘Right.’ Karim drops the grin. ‘She’s gone to the university to – in her words – “find out what the fudge is going on”. They weren’t her actual words 53 but you get the idea. We could go down there and find her?’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Let’s do that.’

‘Come in for a sec while I make myself fly.’

‘We were just gonna walk, but sure if you want to get there before us,’ I say, cos I don’t want Kat to say that he already looks great, which is the kind of thing she’d say because she’s always nice to people.

Kat giggles, which makes me feel better.

‘You can make your jokes, but I’ll have the last laugh, mate, because I actually do have a super power.’ Karim makes putting a hoody on seem like the hardest thing in the world as he tries to get it over his head without messing up his hair.

‘What is it then?’ Kat says.

‘My hair, obviously. One day it will save the world.’ He looks in the mirror and frowns. ‘But not looking like this. One minute.’

We follow him down the hall and into the cosy room we spend most of our time in when I’m at his house. I like it in here – there’s a two-seater sofa with a fleecy blanket over it, the squashiest chair I’ve ever sat in, a big screen TV with his console hooked up and a few shelves of books. In the far corner is the Christmas tree – the only 54 decoration they have in the house – and on the wall next to it is a massive mirror, which Karim looks in multiple times whenever he walks past. That’s where he goes now, with a can of hairspray in his hand.

‘I like your baby Christmas tree,’ Kat says, gently jingling a little gold bell on one of the branches and leaning in to sniff a pinecone.

‘We’re not that big on Christmas, so we only get a small one,’ Karim says, spraying his hair like he’s spray painting a car, or maybe a whole house.

‘Sure you’ve got enough there, mate?’ I say, trying not to choke on the fumes.

‘Not yet,’ he says, giving it one last blast. ‘Now I’ve got enough. Let’s go.’