On the second floor Marwan opened a door and another staircase appeared. He climbed it and opened a hatch door at the top; light flooded down onto Eden, who climbed toward blue skies. And while the panels and their structure were an eyesore from the ground, up there it was just a nice awning over a bunch of built-up beds where herbs and flowers grew.

The Manhattan skyline was so close.

All the time, it’s right there.

All the time, he’s been right here, too. Whole other universes right around the corner.

“So, wait,” she said, turning around. “School’s that way?”

“Yup.”

“So my house is that way?” she pointed.

“No idea,” he said. “But Mecca’s that way.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

She smiled and spun around again. “This is amazing.” Then, “Do you pray up here?”

“We’re not that kind of Muslim, really. More secular-slash-cultural. But I come up here a lot—to, like, think.” He set down the backpack and took the device out.

“I would, too,” Eden said.

It was the same city she’d seen from the ferry just yesterday. Her ride with Eli had been surprisingly pleasant once she’d gotten over the initial jolt of Julian’s request. Eli was funny and pretty mellow and sweet and not at all what she’d pegged him to be. They talked about movies he’d seen that had AI elements, and he joked that he’d been worried the device would multiply when wet, like some evil creatures did in an old movie he’d watched with his grandfather. They talked about the movie she’d seen with—or just next to?—Julian.

It was starting to feel like none of that had ever happened.

Same with the device impersonating her father.

She’d taken some pics of herself that morning after putting the device in a bag. With makeup on, with her cleavage squeezed in a low-cut top. Even one in just a bra. But she’d deleted them right away and felt dumb about it after.

Marwan seemed pretty … conservative. Reserved? She didn’t think he’d ever ask a girl for a “fun pic.” She didn’t think he had a girlfriend—wasn’t sure he even dated—but it was hard to know who did sometimes unless they posted about it everywhere.

She turned and sat on the wooden bench where Marwan was sitting; the device was between them. “What now?” she said.

“Not sure,” he said.

Her hand was on her phone in her pocket, but it would be rude to take it out. She’d been texting with Julian at Panera—he’d sent her a funny pic of himself posing fake sexy like a girl without a shirt on and said, okay now your turn—but then Marwan had arrived and then, well …