Oskar meets you at the pump like a person who loves pumps.

“You did the roots right,” he says. “Don’t let that make you skip noon. Photons are still falling. I’ll keep the drainage honest if you go make a sun.”

He peels a corner of the painted tomato sticker and then sticks it back, because luck is not a procedure but mascots are allowed.

GROVE: “LED banks waiting. Interior optical loss still significant.”

You wipe your hands on your pants. They smell like water and almost-pride.

Turn to 21.