They all showed a strike-out of Aizel below them, but he read anyway, and felt a sort of sick feeling, a churning realization that he’d forgotten to eat and really needed to.

“FBI Warns Parents about the Dangers of Connected Smart Toys”

“The Perils of Giving Your Child Smart Toys”

“The Future of Smart Toys and the Battle for Digital Children”

“Don’t Buy Your Kids Internet-Connected Toys!”

He clicked on “Images,” and the page filled with photos of a small toy that looked a little bit like a mouse or a teddy bear or a Pokémon. After those, there were pictures of Fingerlings and Furbys and also toys he hadn’t ever seen or heard of—all of them more realistic than the seal robot they had at the nursing home. His sister’s Pal Violet was there, too.

Going back to the news hits, he read more headlines:

“Interactive Toy Recalled after Parents Surveyed Deemed It ‘Too Creepy’ ”

“Interactive Toy Pulled from Shelves in Lead-Up to Holidays Due to Hacking Threat”

He clicked on an article. The toy company was actually called “I Know You Are But What Am I Toys.”

And the toy had been called Eliza.

That Aizel anagram again.

Dots were there for him, but he couldn’t quite connect them to make a picture.

He went to the company’s website and searched for “Aizel,” but nothing came up. A quick look around showed there hadn’t been any user reviews in months and an ad for a sale was outdated by a year. It looked like probably the company had gone out of business but the site had never properly been killed.

A chatbot popped up and startled him: IS THERE SOMETHING I CAN HELP YOU WITH?

There was no chatbot that could answer the question he really wanted answered: How did the address in his hand connect to Aizel? And how exactly did Aizel relate to Eliza?

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR INTEREST IN ELIZA.

Eli quit out of the browser and headed out. The address of the data company wasn’t that far away—just down by where Ilanka lived in Hunters Point. He’d catch a bus up Twenty-First Street and hope for answers there.

Marwan

MARWAN

It was story time at the library, and the place was crawling with toddlers who had no concept of what quiet meant. Marwan had navigated an obstacle course of mothers and strollers loaded up like camels with bags and coats and made his way back to the row of computer stations.