She shook her head. No, we’ve got to go bigger, she said. That’s how we stay safe.

Unless they really go after you.

Tom rapped the tabletop with his finger—If those fuckers think they can scare us, they picked the wrong fight.

We’ve got to keep this in the public eye, Seema said. Which is why we need you. We need critical mass. We need as many others as possible to speak to the media to back us up.

But—

We’ve been canvassing the whole neighbourhood looking for others, Tom said, handing me a flyer.

The flyer was a lot more slick and detailed than the notices Howard and Jo stuck up. Seema said that they had been much more methodical in their outreach as well, knocking on doors house by house, street by street. I asked if they had found others.

Tom nodded—Oh yeah.

A handful, Seema clarified.

It’s a slower response than we would’ve liked but—

We expect some people to sit with it for a few days and call us, Seema said, as I read through the flyer, which looked like a pamphlet you would find in a doctor’s office for depression or menopause.

Maybe them just knowing about The Hum will make them think, wait a second, I do hear something, Seema said.

Most people will sign a petition but aren’t willing to talk about their experience, Tom said. And what we need are testimonials. Your experience, the way you articulated it at Howard’s? That’s the kind of story we need to get the severity of this across. And listen, I know you and I didn’t hit it off right away, and I’m sorry about that—

Yeah well neither did we, Seema said, glancing at him.

But you seem like a very reasonable, sensible woman, and we need someone like you on our side, he said to me.

They looked at me, expectant. They had obviously poured days and weeks of work into this, and I admired their drive, but our paths had diverged. They were on a completely different journey with this than I was. They were still stuck in the mindset of that first meeting, seeking to form some kind of neighbourhood association, and determined to find a physical source. My thinking, the thinking of the rest of the group who had continued to convene at Howard and Jo’s week after week, had evolved and deepened in ways Seema and Tom couldn’t even begin to grasp.

I’m sorry, I said, handing their flyer back to them. But I can’t.

Seema motioned to the charred mailbox—Don’t let this scare you, Claire. There’s strength in numbers.

I took a moment to choose my words carefully. I’m learning to find peace with The Hum, I said.

She frowned—But you don’t have to put up with it.