For a moment Vee laughed too. Then she stopped, became serious.

“Dad, who’s collecting Licia?”

“Licia’s safe on her island,” I said.

The glass was sand beneath our shoes. We heard sirens, though we saw no police. The few people we did see floated past, empty-eyed, or stood on corners, watching the clouds of smoke and brick dust as they rolled and turned in the Midsummer air.

I stood on the subway platform, Vee’s headset covering my ears, the cable attached to my phone. In front of us was the empty carriage, lights on, doors open. Even down here the air was filled with dust.

“Dad,” mouthed Vee.

I lifted the earpad from my right ear. “What, love?”

“Is it true you can breathe in bits of people and not know it?”

From my left ear I could hear the station assistant’s voice. “This is Lori. Am I speaking with Cal Curtis again?”

“I’m sorry, Vee. They’re patching me through to the studio, love.” I replaced the earpad over my ear. The sound of the subway disappeared. All I could hear was my own breath.

“So, Cal,” said the voice on the other end. “Dan tells me you are a satirist.”

“I am.”

Lori laughed as though I had said something funny. “And Cal, we are good for level and we are all set, and the next voice you hear will be Carly’s. Patching you through . . . now.”

“And from Oslo, Norway, we have Cal Curtis, a Scottish satirist who has lived for many years in Washington, D.C., but is currently on a career break in Norway. Cal, you were an eyewitness to the fearful explosion that rocked the Norwegian capital less than an hour ago. What was your first thought when you heard the bomb that tore through the town hall?”

“Well, my first thought was thunder. My daughter’s first thought was that this was a bomb.”

“Your daughter was a witness to the explosion?”

“My daughter is a very brave young woman.” I smiled down at Vee. Vee tried to smile back. “She was in the center of town. The window in the room she was in was sucked out by the blast. She and her friend lay facedown, bracing the backs of their heads, waiting for help to arrive, just as she was taught in school.”

“Dad,” mouthed Vee urgently. I lifted one earpad. “We need to get on the train.”

I replaced the earpad, put a hand on Vee’s shoulder. One second, I mouthed.

I saw her mouth move. “But Dad . . .”

I turned away, folded my hand over the earpiece. “It’s important to stress we don’t yet know what has happened. The government has confirmed that there has been an explosion. They have asked us to be vigilant. No word of a bomb. No word on casualties. We are in the center of the city and the streets here are virtually empty.”