As Michael opened the door to the hallway, he could see Helga, Walter, Amy, and a few others huddled over a NetScreen in the adjoining room. They evidently had no interest in sleep. He thought about speaking to them, but he just wasn’t in the mood for that yet. He slipped out and quietly closed the door behind him.

2

There was a snack nook about halfway down the hallway, and he stopped there, glad that no one else was around. He’d had enough of other people. Every time he ran into someone new, his mind jumped to the same conclusion—Tangent, Tangent, Tangent. Only he couldn’t tell whether they worshipped him or wanted him dead.

His credit chip worked fine on the vending machines, producing the same drink he’d created at the streetside shop earlier. He also bought some regular old potato chips and a couple of water tubes. Then he got a cola for Bryson. He was just taking that last item out of the dispenser when he heard the creak of hinges: a door was opening out in the hallway. He waited for the inevitable clunk of the door closing again, but it never came. The hall was silent.

Gathering his things in the crook of his arm, Michael left the snack nook and immediately saw the door he’d heard open a few moments earlier. It was still ajar, and an older woman was standing there, staring right at him. She didn’t look angry, but she didn’t look particularly happy to see him, either.

“Hi,” Michael said, feeling as if he were swimming in a pool of awkward. “Cannnnnn I help you? Want something to eat?”

“No. Thank you.” She spoke in a sweet old-lady voice, then closed the door, the hard thump echoing down the hallway.

Michael stood and watched the door for a minute, wondering if she’d open it again. There were billions of people in the world. Surely the Tangents couldn’t follow him along each phase of his journey.

Yeah, right, he thought. Like anything would ever surprise him again.

He sighed and started walking back to his room, passing the lady’s room on his way. He slowed and tried to look in the peephole as he passed—it seemed much darker than the others. He imagined her aging eye on the other side, watching his every step through her cataract. He told himself that all old ladies did that sort of thing. They assumed every teenage kid they ever saw was one candy-rush away from murdering every senior citizen in sight.