Each and every piece of fruit, each and every piece of animal in the cellophane-wrapped Styrofoam trays of the refrigerated meat aisle, every single stalk of wheat, millet, and rye rendered into the loafs stacked in their paper sleeves lived and died under the Resonance. While in line at the checkout, I smiled to see a grown man in front of me pluck a small pink pack of Hubba Bubba Bubble Tape from the rack of chocolate bars and candy on display beside the magazines. And then I realized the man was Damian! I said his name and he turned. It was almost surreal to see him outside of Howard and Jo’s living room, and judging from the surprised look on his face, he felt the same. There was something electric about the two of us standing there together in public, both of us possessing the most extraordinary secret. We made some small talk and then, anticipating my remark, he lifted the Hubba Bubba Bubble Tape and said—This is for my son, by the way.

I lit up—I didn’t know you had a son.

He’s four.

Wow.

His name is Elijah.

He pulled out his phone and showed me some pictures of the two of them together—on the couch, at a fairground, eating pancakes. In one photo, a young woman in sportswear was holding Elijah. Damian explained that she was his girlfriend, Crystal; not Elijah’s mother. I wondered for a moment why Damian had kept this part of his life private, but I got the sense that the situation was complicated, and I couldn’t help but admire him for feeling protective of these two, and resisting the group’s tendency to excavate the deepest parts of our personal lives.

We’re headed to the splash park today.

I smiled and thought that, for the first time since I had known him, Damian looked genuinely happy. I told him as much, and he brightened a little.

Thanks, he said. I feel good.

I told him that I did too, and I asked him if he thought it was the tuning. He nodded as he began unloading the rest of his cart—cans of tuna, cereal, jumbo bag of toilet paper, protein powder, chocolate milk mix—and then looked back at me to say, You know, I think it is.

I didn’t tell him that I had tuned again with Kyle; that we had plunged deeper into the Resonance than maybe even Jo or Howard have ever dared go, and we saw how truly vast it could be.

I don’t know quite how to describe it, he said after a moment, but it’s like, since we tuned, I feel a little less . . . I feel a little bit more immaterial, or something.