‘Not interested!’ He tries to close the door, but Shandy’s already shoved her giant handbag in the gap and now they wrestle a little. The word ‘dreams’ seems to have set him off and some of my faith in Shandy returns. I put my hand on Shandy’s shoulder to restrain her.

‘I know I signed a non-disclosure agreement and I know I can’t take legal action against BigSky,’ I say in my best professional voice. It works better on the phone, when no one can see how scruffy I am. ‘However, I understand you don’t work there any more and you might like to know that thanks to you, a woman is dead.’

‘Oh, bloody come in, then.’ To my shock, he suddenly swings the door wide and Shandy and I look at each other. Now we’re both wondering if we’re going to be killed and freeze-dried and used as ballast in a SpaceX rocket. But Shandy steps inside, brandishing her handbag like a potential weapon, and I end up following. I’m a good follower, I am.

It’s a nice flat. I can’t imagine ever being able to afford a flat like this. It’s got an entrance hall, a kitchen with a little table, a sitting room with lots of bookcases and a big monitor, and I count three doors along the hall. Two beds and a bath. It’s actually bigger than O’s flat, and in a fancier neighbourhood. My tail’s between my legs already. Who am I? I clean the pigeon cage, that’s who.

We sit down on his leather sofa and he sits down by the desk. The wall behind him is cycling a series of images, views of the Great Barrier Reef or something. The fish spill into the room.

‘Switzerland is landlocked,’ Shandy challenges. ‘How the hell can the Planck Institute have a surfing team?’

‘They don’t. It’s a joke.’

Shandy raises an eyebrow.

‘I’m not clear on what you two are after,’ he says, but he’s looking at me. Maybe that’s because Shandy is sparking and flashing at him, tapping her long nails on his Swedish furniture and grinding her boot heel into his organic carpet.

‘I got really sick after the study,’ I tell him.

‘Yes, I was made aware. That particular agent resulted in a number of unpleasant side effects. Once an engine starts re-arranging neural connections, it’s not the easiest thing in the world to stop it without causing damage to the host. But as you know, I’m no longer employed by BigSky and even if I was, I can’t be held accountable personally. That’s what all the small print was about.’

I’m looking around this gorgeous flat, wondering how someone like Bernard, only a few years older than I am, could have got so much farther in life while I’m still scrabbling and unsure about everything.