“There is a parallel reality similar to our own,” Martin said. His back was almost fully turned. Ambrose held his palms a few inches apart. He couldn’t shimmer out until he figured out what had happened to Mistletoe.

“You mean an infinite number of parallel realities,” Ambrose said. This was basic grade-school physics.

Martin turned and walked back to his desk. Ambrose put his hands behind his back, holding his wrist.

“But how many of them share an identical social network?” Martin asked. “Just one that I’ve been able to find. Or, should I say, that found me.”

“The original transmission,” Ambrose said. “Our design instructions.” He wished for his Process Flow ability to fall into place and drag his thoughts toward a logical endpoint. But since that was impossible, he took a guess.

“All this Profile data is strengthening the connection between our worlds. The social networks are the bridge, and this is”—what had Martin called it?—“a gateway to ourselves.”

“The next level of Friendship,” Martin said. “Now, the most important question is how much to charge users for the unprecedented opportunity—”

Ambrose stepped back as an astonishing figure burst from the doorway.

“—to Friend themselves.”

The figure was a boy who could have been Ambrose’s taller twin. The bones in his face were different. Kind of girlish, thought Ambrose. And he wore a light brown suit with thick red horizontal stripes.

Ambrose and his twin sized each other up. Then the twin held out his hand. “I’m Ambrose 47. I look forward to commencing our Friendship.”

“That’s quite the suit you got there.”

“The differences between our societies, while relatively small, will seem alien at first. I suggest that in order to make our Friendship successful, we focus on UniCorp business and keep the jokes and sarcasm to a minimum.”

Is this what I sound like? Ambrose thought.

Ambrose 47 thrust out his hand again heartily.

“Please, Ambrose,” Martin said, “save your mind. Accept the Friendship, and we’ll prep the lab for calibration.”

“Then what happens?” Ambrose asked.

His twin looked confused and turned to Martin. “Has he not been given a comprehensive briefing?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Martin said. The plant was a pile of brown leaves mixed with the viscous puddle on the floor. The picture frame was empty. “The only thing that matters now is your Friendship.”

“Ambrose, you and I will seal the bond between our realities on this side of the gateway,” Ambrose 47 explained. “The two Annas will do so on the other.”

“I love you, Ambrose,” Martin said.

“It’s an honor to maintain the gateway,” Ambrose 47 said. “We’ll be contributing to the greatest projected profit margin in UniCorp history.”

“Maintain the gateway?” Ambrose looked at Martin, who had come around to the front of his desk. “You built us to become some kind of living portal?”

“User Profile data is volatile,” Ambrose 47 said. “We are capable of controlling it.”