I looked away from where Kenzie was spinning things to screw in the eye-camera beneath the major lens of the flying eye, looked at Rain, and saw how miserable he was.

“How does Erin fit in?” Sveta asked.

“She doesn’t. She knows the story but she hasn’t seen the dreams. I think if she saw the dreams like the three members of the cluster did, she’d hate me too. But she doesn’t.”

“And ‘of 5?’” Chris asked.

I turned my head.

“My username, online,” Rain explained. “I don’t know what happened to the fifth. It’s complicated. I can think of a few people it might be. People that didn’t make it.”

Kenzie turned around. The camera looked worse for wear. I realized it was the nice one, with the adaptive camouflage or whatever it was. Panels were missing and wires exposed. She beckoned me to approach. I did.

“Put the lens side against the wall or the roof. There’s a plunger on the side here, you see?”

In a groove along the side, normally meant to aid in aerodynamics or something, the metal rod ran flush with the body.

“I see,” I said. I looked at the screen. They’d walked past the place where Prancer had gone inside.

“Put it up against the surface, then slowly, super slowly push that in. There’s no resistance built in, so you could push it in in half a second if you weren’t careful.”

“What would happen?”

“We’d lose it. That’s four days worth of work and the eye camera is six days worth of work, and some of those parts were hard to get. Please don’t push it in fast.”

“How slow do I depress it?”

“Um. Take, like, a minute, to get it from here to here, if you can. Be ready to stop if I tell you to.”

“How are we communicating?”

“Phone?” Kenzie asked.

“Phone,” I said. “Got it.”

I checked I had my phone with me, that it had battery, and then got my earbuds, plugging them into the phone and then putting one into my ear. I collected the football-sized camera.

“Give me something to eat?” I asked. “Granola bar or something?”

Chris walked over to his bag, fished for something, and then tossed me a bag of chips. I caught it, then caught the paper-wrapped meal he threw my way. I put everything into a bag. My mask, computer and notebook were in the bag already, which was good.

“It’s not kiss-kill,” Rain said. “Or, like Victoria said a few days ago, it’s kiss-kill with good cover. I’m weaker than them, and the dreams give them a reason to hate me.”

“I’m good to go?” I asked.

“I think so. Thanks for doing this,” Sveta said.

I gave her a pat on the shoulder as I passed.

“Thank you,” Rain said, with sincerity.