The cab careened around the edge of an atmoscraper. One traffic flow was briefly replaced by another before the world disappeared entirely.

“Where are you—” Mistletoe said, but the lights of the city returned as they shot out from under a short bridge. She slammed into the door as they spun around to join a single line of cars coasting up the side of a massive translucent dome lit from within by a soft yellow light.

“Shortcut,” the cabbie said. As they crested the dome, she rose to her knees and peered out the side window. Looking down through layers of spotless plexi, she saw a vast honeycomb of white beds. Each bed contained a person sleeping with hands clasped together. Guards in UniCorp windbreakers patrolled the aisles. Little A.I. drones buzzed around the upper levels.

“What is this place?”

“Shimmerdome Nine. See, you pay for the privilege to occupy one of those comfy beds for as long as you want while you’re in Unison. That way you’re protected. No one comes and messes with you if you wanna stay inside for a few weeks.”

“So all those people are logged in.”

“Enjoying BetterLife as we speak.”

They looked so peaceful. So different from Ambrose, stuck inside the wire tree trunk with all the raw externalized data racing around him. Funny, she thought. I’m up in his world, and he’s down in mine.

They sped down the other side of the dome and joined the elevated traffic flow for a few blocks before diving to street level. Here, a few pedestrians loitered beneath a pyramid-shaped sign that proclaimed DRINK SPECIALS W/ STUDENT ID. The cabbie veered left and entered a narrow alley. They emerged into an enclosed field ringed with atmoscrapers and lit by millions of incandescent lights that hung in the air like tiny stars.

The cab stopped. They were surrounded by greenery—lush hedges and pine trees that dwarfed the anemic subcanopy shrubs. Here and there a stone roof poked above the foliage.

“Here we are, kid.”

She looked out both windows. “Where?”

“ESCU.”

“Looks like it hasn’t been built yet.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t design the place, okay?” He rested his open hand on the seat divider and wiggled his fingers. She dropped the necklace into his palm, and he hung it from the rearview mirror.