What a melodious ring those words had, even if they implied my own dimwitted nature.

“I’m sure you’re right. In fact, I’m counting on it.” I paused, giving him space to show a little shadow.

“Great, well, I brought some desert outfits for you to borrow.”

Having grown up with Margot, I was used to such redirections whenever a fraught topic emerged.

“I do hope you know that your entire internet presence is actually quite harmful to some people. And no desert outfits are going to change that.”

He looked at me with mock concern. “Have you seen my desert blanket hoodie?”

We laughed and laughed, the only cure for certain madnesses.

The Rhiz had booked us seats next to each other. A middle-aged businessman sat at the aisle with headphones in. I wanted our presence to make the fellow traveler’s tentacles stick out, but he did not seem interested in others. I tried to catch Aiden at unflattering angles in my periphery. As the plane took off, he dozed and I flipped through the notes I’d written down on actual paper, even though it wasn’t cool with the Rhiz to keep confidential info.

Before we left, I’d placed the narrative report in its appropriate sheath outside my apartment door, and then gone to add an extra layer of succulent soil to Alice’s pot. The Witch said she’d watch over her. When I passed through the living room, I saw that someone had taken the Bio-meter and left the boxes. I was sad that it had been confiscated before I could try it out on myself or Aiden or my roomies.

There was a square note on the kitchen counter, stamped with a neutral seal.

Your synthesis is fine, but the depth is off, was all it said.

When the plane reached its cruising altitude, I nudged Aiden. “Hey, how far back into Blithe’s files did you go?”

“What?” He had a little spit on the corner of his mouth.

“Blithe’s life, how much did you read?”

Aiden sat up. Rubbed his mouth. “Uh, not too far before you told me I was doing a shitty job.”

“Okay, well, let me catch you up. Blithe was adopted from China by white American parents. He had a tomboyish childhood—you know, long basketball shorts and big tees. He tried to assimilate into girlhood until he was seventeen, followed by a raging lesbian college phase, a post-college year of deep depression, then a year working in TV and trying to be an escapist who didn’t have a body. He started medically transitioning at twenty-six. The files called his transition form the slice.

“He cut off all friends and went into seclusion in his parents’ very nice home. He didn’t even have to see a therapist because the Rhiz covered his hormones and surgery. He wrote for TV shows from his old bedroom. He rejoined the world when he felt like he could pass. And met his boyfriend, Saul, whom he has apparently just dumped.