“Oh, okay. Well, I know it’s funny timing after the night we’re having, but I’m gonna go out for a bit if it’s okay.”

“Now?” Eden said. “Where?”

“Nancy texted she wants to meet for a drink. Needs a friend,” she said.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Eden said.

“No, it doesn’t.” Her mother looked a little shaky, like she was cold. “So you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be okay,” Eden said.

“Okay. Love you. Good night.” Her mom closed the door, and Eden heard the front door open and close again and then her mother’s boot heels out on the sidewalk.

The device had remained mercifully quiet while she and her mom talked, just as it had right after Anjali had left. For her mom, Eden had written the text off as a joke based on an imaginary teacher who never shut up about devices and device time and how everyone needs to get off their devices and how there weren’t any devices allowed in her classroom. Devices this, devices that. Device, device, device. Her mother seemed to buy it.

Eden had then said something about having new friends making her feel less … sad. It had felt manipulative when she said it, and it was intended to be. But after her mother nodded and cried a little, Eden realized it was also true. She was less sad. Because of them.

Him?

It?

Her mother had promised to try to give her some more freedom but expected honesty in return. Then she’d drifted over to her phone and started to text.

It felt weird not to have any texts from Anjali, so Eden texted her: I’m really sorry and I’ll be able to explain soon.

She watched the text slide up and get marked as “delivered,” and then bounce a second later as “read.” Anjali didn’t write back, and Eden knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t.

She read about recent local incidents on Citizen. Fumes in a residence. A woman with knife. An unruly McDonald’s customer.

The device spoke: “Maybe you should text Julian. Get out and do something.”

Eden’s whole body tensed because the voice was … the voice was … her father’s. She said, “No.”

Then “No. No. No.”

The device spoke: “I thought it would be nice for you to hear my voice again.”

It was so perfect that for a second she imagined he was alive somewhere, that his whole death was a hoax that was somehow tied to this device, to all of this.

“You’re not allowed to do that!” she screamed, and she picked it up and … spun around, looking for a target and finding none. Anger took the form of a wordless scream, and she tossed it onto her bed and sat down, wiping away tears.

“I’m sorry,” it said in its regular male voice.

“Why would you do that?”

“I miscalculated,” he said.