“I think it’s time to—” Shelley starts saying, but I cut her off.

“I remember something else,” I say.

“Pardon?” she says.

“That I wanted. When I was very young. A little girl. Before I started painting or before I went out dancing. I wasn’t very social as a child. A lot of things scared me. But I remember wanting something in a serious way. I didn’t even tell my parents. I’ve never told anyone.”

“What was it?” asks Hilbert.

“I wanted to levitate. To float.”

“You wanted to fly?” says Ruth.

“No. To float,” Hilbert says, clarifying for me. “She said she wanted to float.”

“That’s an unusual wish,” says Shelley.

“I wanted to know what that would feel like,” I say.

Shelley looks at me and then at the others. Jack still hasn’t moved from the wall, but he’s not looking down at his phone anymore. I can tell he’s listening.

“Just to float, just for a moment,” I say, looking down. “To feel my feet off the ground. I’ve always felt my weight. It’s impossible to know what it would feel like until you feel it.”

My little childhood secret is met by silence, except from Hilbert.

“It’s an understandable anxiety of matter, of mass,” says Hilbert. “Of life. A density. A burden to remain upright, to produce, to persist. I’ve felt it, too.”

I feel the hairs on my arms rise.

“There’s nothing wrong with persistence, Hilbert,” says Shelley. “That’s what life is. That shows a strong spirit.”

“No, that’s not what we’re talking about,” Hilbert says to Shelley, before turning back to me. “Some have argued that the total amount of energy, all of it, in the universe is… do you want to guess? It’s zero.”

“That doesn’t sound possible,” says Shelley.

“Shhh,” I say before focusing my attention back on Hilbert.

“All matter makes up the positive energy, while gravity makes up the negative energy, and the two, put together, just cancel each other out,” he says.

Shelley scoffs under her breath.

“Yes. I see. It’s about being different. Being completely different,” I say. “The other side of something. I find it very soothing to know that an opposite always exists.”

I’m looking only at Hilbert. He’s all I can see. I smile.

“Isn’t common ground the most important thing?” Shelley says. “Integrating and coming together for the good?”

“I find contrasts soothing, too, Penny,” Hilbert says, ignoring Shelley. “I like knowing there’s a flip side. I think it’s beautiful. It’s not unlike floating. A balance and proportion.”

“Anyway, let’s not get too philosophical,” Shelley says, standing up. “You never cease to amaze me. All of you!” Her tone is pointed, as if we’ve touched a nerve. “But you all need your rest, too. Jack, can you help Penny back to her room?”

“Now?” he asks, surprised.

“Yes, now.”

Jack steps forward and puts his arm out for me to hold on to. The room has gone quiet. I want to continue talking with Hilbert, ask him questions about his life, his work in mathematics, his ideas, other interests. It’s all so different from my own, and yet… I take hold of Jack’s arm and stand.