Water overflowed the old curbs which meant the city’s pumps had failed again. Marjoram sloshed through puddles and kept her head down as she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her trousers. The contact surfaces kept her fingers busy as she trawled the net for pie recipes, leaving troves of data trails in her wake. Images flashed across her contacts, gathering in her periphery like pigeons. She swiped through advertisements for sweaters she couldn’t afford and let the profile build—it was better than staying quiet. Around her the chatter of private nodes mixed with the slosh of her shoes, and it kept her focused. She transmitted like everyone else, and her noise mixed in with the noise all around, and helped to keep her hidden.