The reporter thanked him and hung up, and Marwan put the phone down, his hand shaky. He probably shouldn’t have done that, but what was the other option? To just sit back and quietly let his life be destroyed?

He checked his phone. Still nothing.

He couldn’t just sit here all day. He couldn’t go home.

He’d go to the library and use a computer there so he didn’t blow through all his data. He’d try to find some kind of proof that the device was a thing that was real. He had new information now. Drone-like abilities, for starters. He could do a more extensive search—maybe even post on some AI community boards if that was even a thing—and if he still came up empty, he could ask the others, or at least Eden, to back up his story.

He’d text her later, but not yet.

He’d tell her he was maybe leaving, and that now, for the first time ever, he very much wanted to stay.

Eden

EDEN

She hadn’t actually intended to stay home, but when her mother woke her up and asked her if she was feeling up to going to school, Eden had taken the out. “I think I just need … a day.”

Mom had stroked Eden’s hair once—“I’m sure it was all really scary”—and Eden had to remind herself her mom was thinking of the bomb, not the device.

“It was,” Eden said.

“I’ll check on you later. And just don’t go anywhere. Okay?”

“Where would I go?” Eden asked.

“You know exactly where you’d go, or rather with whom?” She sighed an apology almost immediately after her own snark. “I mean just please really use the day to rest, okay?”

Eden nodded. “Okay.”

Now she was in front of the TV with the Roku remote in her hand. She didn’t feel like watching a movie, though. She didn’t feel like doing anything.

Anjali texted: Worried about you.

Eden wrote back: All good. It’s over. Just taking the day off. Can tell you everything next time I c u.

Anjali sent a GIF of Kermit the Frog waving his frog hands wildly: Yaaaaaaaaaaay.

Eden hearted it, then went and got her laptop. The Spotify customer service page asked, “How can we help you?” in large letters.

She typed “Lost playlists” into the search field.

Spotify automatically backs up your deleted playlists, read the first line of the response that popped up.

She exhaled. There was hope. She just had to log in. Except she couldn’t. So she clicked on “difficulty logging in” and then on “trouble finding accounts,” and none of the tips there helped. It said that her father’s email address was not a valid address.

She tried to send her father an email, and it bounced.

Had her mother … deleted him?