The wish petered out when he realized he had no way of confirming his sources. First person is for bloggers and shit journalists, Ms. Zarri had once said. That same day, Apollo had looked her up online. Ms. Zarri was a prolific vlogger, specializing in “investigations” of hair products, according to the video descriptions. There usually wasn’t much investigating going on, though, just a cursory Google search, filmed, followed by at least fifteen minutes of sycophantic endorsement or merciless critique. Apollo never brought it up.

Pouncing onto his bed and lying on his stomach, he thought of Cherise. So perfect, yet so flawed. Grabbing his laptop, he decided to look her up. Her Twitter page was the first result, followed by her blog. He clicked on the blog, perusing her archives. Most of the posts were images, making it easy to navigate. She seemed to go to a lot of rallies. End homelessness. Fuck the police. Citizens first. Save Syria. No GMO. Stop Zionists. Net neutrality. She had a picket sign, and a selfie broadcasting that sign, for every occasion, every objective. It was confusing, Apollo thought. All this awareness, yet she was hanging with AASU, an obviously feeble organization. And Zed wanted to join too. What a joke.

He moved to her Twitter page. It overflowed with retweets, all just as buckshot as her blog. Multitasking and politics never go together, he had read somewhere. You choose one mission, you complete it, then you move on. How did people not get that? He hadn’t even had to read that to understand it. Seeing it written just confirmed it.

Apollo rolled onto his back, his eyes resting on the ceiling. It was only 2:30 p.m. There was enough day remaining to get into anything, but he felt immobilized. If this next plan didn’t go right, he could end up just like Cherise, satisfied with merely being black in public, fossilized in the exigencies of 1961. Was there any mindset less Jurassic, less reptilian, less basic? It was repulsive how stupid people could be, even smart people. Even Zed. He’d have to make it obvious, for everyone.

Suddenly drowsy, Apollo took refuge in his thoughts, drifting into sleep. He saw the big picture. He’d seen it for himself, on that screen, on that night. But he was the only one, he realized, instantly aware of his true mission: to show everyone the light. Cherise was right, he thought. Things could change.

chapter 10