I’d started at Snapp as a marathoner—that was the person who ferried heavy bags between shops and apartments—but I’d been promoted during the pandemic, because clients only allowed workers with proven antibodies to enter their homes. I’d gotten sick early on, and my monthly tests had made people think I was a safe bet, so clients paid a premium for my work. Of course, Snapp didn’t lower those rates after most people had gotten vaccinated. It was a weird fit, because I was a minimalist who disliked extra stuff, and I was organizing kitchens for people who kept a dozen types of salt on hand.

My first client of the day was an older lady I liked, even though I’d never laid eyes on her. She always tipped well, and more of her purchases were for her three schnauzers than for herself, which seemed weirdly sweet. I worked at her place for two hours, walked six blocks to the next one, which was a little more chaotic—that home had three kids, who were way more destructive than dogs. The doorman had the bags the marathoner had dropped off. Afterward I ate a protein bar and checked my email. There was nothing from the mysterious X, and I emailed the address again. There was a sweet message from Jude. Just wanted to check in, she’d written. How are you doing? Sending hugs.

I flinched slightly. I wasn’t good with hugs, even virtual ones.

I kept moving, because I was on the clock and there were no breaks.

Things went well until the middle of the afternoon. My work had a kind of mindless drone quality to it that I hated, but it also left me alone with my thoughts. I didn’t have much contact with humans, which was fine with me. But when I saw the address on my next client—Beekman Street, barely three blocks downtown off City Hall Park, I texted T-Rex.

I was direct: I’m not going there.

As was he: You are. Consider it penance.

Not happening. Last time ASB tried to rub up against me.

There was a tiny pause in our exchange.

I thought you were able to take care of yourself, T-Rex shot back.

It was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.