“This is an active construction zone. If you’re in la-la land, or you’re not thinking about the safety of the other men out there, someone’s going to get hurt, or killed. I’m not saying you have to share secrets and braid one another’s hair; I’m saying you have to be on the team. They have to trust that you’re not going to let them down when it counts.” John gave an understanding nod. “This is a good job, John. I think these are good guys out there, too. Work isn’t easy to come by these days, and I need you to get your head in the game. Because next time I see it in the clouds … well, just don’t put me in that position. Understand?”

“Yeah, I understand,” John said numbly. He didn’t move, standing on the shag brown carpet that came with the portable office as though waiting to be dismissed from detention.

“Okay. Get out.” John went. The dressing-down had taken up the last few minutes of his workday; he helped Sergei put away some of the equipment, then headed to his car with a muttered good-bye.

“Hey!” Sergei called after him. John stopped. “Last call!”

“I …” John broke off, spotting Oliver out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe next time,” he said.

Sergei pressed. “Come on, it’s my excuse to avoid that new kid’s place—my daughter’s been begging to go there all week. Lucy’s taking her, but robots creep me out.”

John paused, and the world grew silent around him. “What place?” John said.

“So, you coming?” Sergei asked again.

John took a few steps backward, as if he’d come too close to a ledge. “Maybe another time,” John said, and walked decidedly to his car. It was old and brownish-red, something that might have been cool in high school. Now it was just a reminder that he was still a kid who hadn’t moved on, a mark of status that had become a mark of shame within the space of a year. He sat heavily, a plume of dust shooting out the sides of the car seat as he dropped onto it. His hands were shaking. “Get a grip.” He closed his eyes, and clutched the wheel, steadying himself. “This is life now, and you can do it,” he whispered, then opened his eyes and sighed. “Sounds like something lame my dad would have said.” He turned the key.