“Weeeee are in the process of exploring, so you should come! That is, if you can stand another day in our company.”

Alex holds the Hello Kitty notebook that had been lying on the bench forgotten, already flipping through the pages.

“This. Is. Amazing.” He backs up and begins to read aloud. Kierk just sits down on the bench and sighs.

“ ‘How is a metamorphosis of thought preceded? What augurs summon a breakthrough of this scale, what omens and signs and eyes? Is it all poetry before, is it all madness? Is such a vision preceded by passion? By failure? By belief? As with Saint Paul, does it come upon a traveler as blindness? Could it be preceded by love?’ ”

There is a pause. Carmen is looking at him anew for the second time.

“Hey, wait a minute, this is actually . . .” Alex starts, he keeps flipping. “What’s this?” The page is filled with strange arrows.

“Category theory. It’s a branch of mathematics that—you know what, just give it back. Give me my, my, hey, give it—Okay. Let’s go.”

“Achoo!”

Walking to the East Village they slow as they approach some sort of commotion in front of the CNS. There are protesters outside the building, shouting, blocking the sidewalk, holding signs that say STUDENTS AGAINST ANIMAL RESEARCH. In the back, one student in a ski mask holds up: TORTURE FOR TORTURERS. A scene is already unfolding as a man, a researcher whom Kierk recognizes from the hallways of the CNS, is trying to enter to the increased rancor of the crowd. The researcher looks defiant, about to move forward, but then takes a step back in shock when an utter silence descends. One by one the protesters begin to collapse like a depressive wave spreading outward. Strings cut, the clatter of signs, the looseness of lifelessness, until all of them are splayed out on the ground in a hush, legs entangled, faces blank at the sky. The entire street is still as the organismal mass lies protoplasmic on the cement. Kierk, leading the way, is the first to move through them all, stepping gingerly around the limbs of the still figures. He looks down at their faces in vain, as if hoping to recognize one. Only their eyes move to watch as he and Alex and Carmen pass through to Broadway and beyond.