“What? No. Can you stop talking?” she said. What did it know about Julian?

“Why?”

“Because when you talk it makes you seem more real.”

“I am real,” it said.

“We’re more likely to call attention to ourselves if you’re talking, so can you switch to display?”

It lit up: FINE. WHERE ARE WE GOING?

She said, “We’re going to see Marwan.”

WHY?

She didn’t answer at first but then remembered about how you weren’t supposed to ignore it, so she said, “I just want to check in.”

She was sick of Broadway, plus it was more crowded than some of the other more residential avenues, so she cut over to Thirty-First and took that up most of the way toward Steinway. A few blocks before turning onto that main strip, she saw a group of people gathered by a metal garage door. Their language was foreign and agitated—not just one language, several—and then through a clearing in the crowd she saw a man with a paint can—silver—beginning to paint over red letters: KKK.

She might vomit right there on the sidewalk like the stray cats in the neighborhood sometimes did.

“When did this happen?” she said to an older woman standing nearby.

“Just this afternoon,” the woman said.

“This happened in broad daylight?” Eden said.

“I guess it only takes a few seconds.” The woman shook her head and wandered off.

Eden started walking again, but at the next avenue she lost her nerve and turned around. He’d think it was weird, her turning up like this. Out of nowhere. Plus, he was working.

She went back toward home a different way, to avoid the graffiti scene, then felt weird about going home with the device again. She didn’t want to talk anymore about playlists or Julian. What did it know about Julian? She didn’t want to be alone with it again.

She stopped in front of a dry cleaners by a sign that said, We Clean Uggs! and texted Eli: Hey, would it be weird if we hung out?

Yes, he wrote back.

It had been dumb to ask.

She thought about turning around again, back to Marwan. Or she could just go to Starbucks. Anything to avoid having to talk to it more?

Eli’s next text was a rolling-on-the-floor-laughing face.

Then he wrote: Socrates? I can be there in ten.

It was a good idea. A public sculpture park where nothing bad could happen. Eden exhaled relief and stopped on the corner by the grocery store. She pulled up the “TGIF” playlist, put in earbuds, and hit play.

She texted her mom: Hanging out at Anjali’s. Can I stay for dinner?

Her mom wrote back: Sure! Some work people going out. Maybe I’ll join. Be in touch.

She sent a thumbs-up, then texted Eli: On my way.

Eli

ELI

Eden arrived with a small tote bag looped over her shoulder.