My anger at Eva had gotten pushed to the backburner. Now I struggled between awe and a touch of dread that shortened my breath.

Doctor Nagi had access to my genetic data. Whatever tweaks Eva had made wouldn’t be easy spot, but he’d make the connection eventually. Maybe before Darren snapped again, or maybe after, but it would happen.

We faced danger on every front.

Now we both stared at each other, trying to work through the possibilities, but we couldn’t make progress if we couldn’t talk it out.

Quanta? I tried to call to her across the table, but she didn’t react.

It was one limit established. We had to be touching to share thoughts telepathically. That it worked at all meant Eva had attuned me to Quanta’s frequency.

If I kept thinking through the implications, I’d be lost in thought forever. Quanta looked back at me, equally floored.

Other than the hints of exhaustion, she seemed fine, and I could get over a headache. Both of us needed to snap back.

I forked one of the blackened strips of bacon and held it up, copying the innocent past. “I’ll trade you a piece of this succulent bacon for one of those mandarin wedges.”

“Sabotage.” This time, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

I crunched into the bacon strip to keep from smiling back. At least we could both appreciate the ridiculousness of it.

The previous conversation was embossed in my mind: I think it’s a fair trade.

Then she’d lick her lips and end up choking.

With both of us still reeling, reliving it would feel hollow. Instead, I started a new dialogue. “I read that you didn’t eat meat, but your records never said why.”

Quanta arched a brow. I couldn’t hear the thought, but I could imagine because I felt the same. Really? Of all the things we need to be talking about?

“Just making conversation.”

She stabbed a kiwi slice, but still didn’t lift it to her mouth. “Seeing the moment of slaughter makes it a lot less tasty.”

I winced. Hadn’t thought of that angle. “What about printed meats?” Even if they tasted like damp cardboard.

“Fine in theory. It’s just been so long, I lost my taste for it.”

“That’s fair.” It wasn’t the greatest topic of conversation, but talking about something made the looming future a little more manageable. We didn’t have to deal with the burden of time all at once. We could chat about bacon and still enjoy a few seconds of relative normalcy. “What about—”

I stopped myself. I couldn’t ask the question I wanted answered the most. Would those futures of us really come to pass?

Or were they a distant possibility? I needed to know.