She nodded but I could tell she was perturbed. As I looked at her sitting across from me on the sofa, it struck me that this would likely be our last conversation for a very long time. Perhaps ever. It also struck me that perhaps Cass and I had never been more aligned. I suddenly recognized myself in her faith and conviction. And this should have repelled me, would have once repelled me, but somehow it didn’t in that moment. I saw the ecstatic chord that had been plucked in her, and that had compelled her to share the gift of divine revelation with those she cared about; compelled her to drive over to my house on a Sunday afternoon in her red Toyota Prius to salvage my soul. In that moment I could almost see it as a generosity of the heart. I wondered, as I looked at her, if I would ever feel that same conviction one day, to share The Hum with others. Was this embedded in the genetic code of revelation; that it must be shared, multiplied, disseminated?

I suddenly imagined a hundred, a thousand people tuning together. City parks filled with tuning circles. Conference rooms. School gymnasiums. Stadiums. The entire human race rediscovering the primordial frequency with which we had fallen out of synch; entwining ourselves again with the Earth at a time when it needed us the most, when our continued survival as a species depended on it.

We finished our tea with quiet briskness and I walked Cass out. As I opened the door, the sun felt as bright as a camera flash. The street was quiet; even the neighbourhood dogs were too hot to bark. After hugging me goodbye in the doorway, Cass pulled away and, with a grave look, asked—It’s not really true, is it? What they’ve been saying?

What who’s been saying? I asked, the words snagging in my throat.

Everyone. The other teachers, our friends.

She looked at me confused.

You don’t know what they’ve been saying? she asked.

Who would tell me if not you?

She squinted against the sun, and brought her hand up above her eyebrows—They’re saying you’re a rapist, Claire.

I felt the blood drain from my limbs—What?

In the statutory sense.

Oh good, I said, bitterly. Just a statutory rapist.

Unusually for her, Cass seemed to be at a loss for words.

And now’s where you tell me that you disabused them of that, I’m assuming, I said.

Well how could I know? she asked.

How could you know that I’m not a rapist? Is that what you’re asking me?

I don’t know what happened between you and Kyle.

Are you serious?

How would I?

I asked Cass to look me in the eyes and tell me, in her heart, whether she really thought I had had sexual intercourse with one of my students.