‘Look, just trust me, Elizabeth, when we’re in Indonesia you won’t even be thinking about social media. Your fingers will be exactly where they should be. Cleaning the festering wounds of lepers.’

A long pause ensued and Elizabeth shook her head, more in sorrow than in despair. In order for him to truly understand the importance of her words, she spoke very, very slowly.

‘But what … on earth … would be the point … of going to a leper colony,’ she asked, ‘if I couldn’t … tell people … about it?’

Wilkes laughed. ‘Are you being serious?’

‘I’m being completely, one hundred per cent serious.’

‘You can just do good for its own sake. Pro bono, as they say. And God knows, Bono knows a thing or two about philanthropy.’

She stared at him as if he’d gone entirely mad.

‘I’m worried about you, Wilkes,’ she said. ‘Do you think you might be having some sort of breakdown?’

‘Why, because I suddenly have clarity of purpose?’

‘I wonder whether all of this is happening because you need a good wash. And a shave. And to cut your nails. And to put on some deodorant and some moisturizer. My God, you haven’t even put on any moisturizer, have you!’ She looked around and appealed to I Don’t Believe in Names (they/their), who was standing behind the counter now, performing a salutation to the sun, raising her voice to a pitch of hysteria. ‘HE’S NOT EVEN WEARING ANY MOISTURIZER!’ she screeched.

‘Jesus, Elizabeth,’ said Wilkes, reaching for her hand. ‘Calm down, will you?’

‘Don’t touch me,’ she said, pulling back from him. ‘I don’t know what kind of bacteria you’re covered in. I don’t want to be Patient Zero for Covid-21.’

He sat back, looking both disappointed and hurt. ‘Perhaps I’ve thrown all of this at you too quickly,’ he said. ‘Maybe when we’re in Indonesia—’

‘I don’t think I can go,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I don’t appreciate this new Wilkes.’

‘You can’t fall out of appreciation just like that!’ he protested. ‘I’m still the same man I was yesterday, Elizabeth. Just without social media. I might be a little more pungent but—’

She threw her hands in the air.

‘I don’t know who you are any more. Or what you are.’

‘I’m Wilkes,’ said Wilkes. ‘The same Wilkes you fell in appreciation with. I’ve just disconnected from the grid, that’s all. Like Keanu, when he slipped out of the matrix.’

Elizabeth stared at him as if she’d never heard such nonsense in all her life and stood up, gathering her coat and bag.

‘You don’t get it, do you?’ she asked as she hovered over him, looking down at his greasy hair and dripping complexion. ‘The grid is life, Wilkes! THE GRID IS LIFE!’