Zed was a fool to choose college over this, a true future, one with possibilities that they could imagine and build rather than apply for, drive to, tweet about, smoke away. How could she have left him so decisively, so easily? Her, Kai, Sol. They’d all bonded over the past month, discussing the future. They’d all been scared, he felt, their eyes lowering and glazing over when they thought about majors, classes, responsibility, bills. The only thing they looked forward to was the plan. Apollo had seen it. It was their only freedom.

And he had seized it. The tags didn’t have to be an ode to Jerry or a final act of defiance before settling down. This could be the moment they unsettled, drowning in the radical openness of authentic liberation. They could have become true celestials, gods of the cosmos, stewards of change. Yet they settled right back into their fears the moment he gave them an out. So wormlike. He felt betrayed.

How could she have done this to him? She said she loved him, but here he was, alone. Why had it been so easy for her to choose? Why had she looked at him like he’d double-crossed her? He wasn’t Theo. He wasn’t a flirt. He’d given her exactly what she’d wanted, what she’d asked for. Right there in the back seat, just how she liked it.

Apollo stared into the pillar of fire engulfing the skyscraper across the street, recalling his last moment in her presence. There Zed was, dragging the FBI agent out into the street as the building collapsed like a dream. The woman was at least forty pounds heavier than her, but she summoned the strength to carry her, cradling her gashed head like a newborn and laying her down on a patch of grass. Then she was gone, Kai and Sol at her side, their plastic handcuffs cut loose with a jagged shard of glass, the agent slung over Sol’s shoulder. Why did she have to be so goddamn noble? That woman was authorized by a government that didn’t exist anymore.

The revolution was fucking lonely. He wished Theo was here. Was he really dead? He had to be. This had all been done in his name. Jerry’s story was moving, but it had been Theo who was the true inspiration. He had carried out his plan and been broken by it, losing Kai, his center, his way. Apollo was still whole. As his plan germinated, he’d felt himself become complete, felt his body become definite, concrete.

This must be how Zed felt when she brought her sketches to life, repossessing those privatized slabs of the city and releasing them back to the public.