Episode transcript:

After hanging out long enough, the kids started inviting Linda along for what they liked to call their “small acts of pointless rebellion.”

“Purposlessness is a great joy of life,” said a young woman with short, purple hair called Wendy, who seemed to be the ringleader for this faction of the crew.

“Is that a Western Toilet?” asked Linda.

Wendy rolled her eyes, “No. It’s a me.”

Squatty just laughed and said, “You know she’s cool, because she’s kind of mean.”

The acts were stuff like, one afternoon, they went around the neighborhood and taped little paper mustaches to the face scanning screens at all the apartment complexes. Mostly, if the security guards noticed them, they yelled them off. One even gave half-assed chase.

But more than one amused themself by examining their own mustachioed face in the screen.

“Is this what changing minds feels like?” Linda asked Wendy.

“God. Have you never taken an art history course,” Wendy responded. She snapped her fingers at an, well, underling, who rummaged through her backpack.

Wendy peered in over her shoulder. “Give her ‘Grapefruit,”’ said Wendy.

The underling hefted a large hardcover into Linda’s hands. Linda examined the spine. “By Yoko Ono. … I notice this ones not from the library.”

“No,” said Wendy. “I stole it. From Garden Book in Shanghai.”

“What if I steal it from you?” asked Linda.

“You should,” said Wendy. “And then give it to someone else who needs art in their life.”

Another evening, the gang snuck up to the roof of a nearby abandoned building to add to the graffiti that was already there. Some brought chalk, some brought spray paint. Linda brought a permanent marker.

She didn’t know what to draw, so she pulled up to a section of wall and just started making small squares. Wendy came over with a beer for Linda.

“Nice geometry,” she said.

“I can’t draw,” said Linda.

“Everyone can draw,” said Wendy.

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t know if that’s true,” said Linda.

“Suit yourself,” said Wendy.

A small circle of drinkers coalesced in the middle of the roof. Adrian called Linda over to sit by him. There were no stars, but it was a peaceful night. Noise of the city drifted up from below, sounding a thousand miles away.

“Do you guys do stuff life this every night?” asked Linda.

“More recently,” said the underling who had given Linda the book. She was called Danny.

“I think we’ve been energized by the new blood,” added Adrian.

“Oh, who’s that?” asked Linda.

“It’s you!” said Adrian.

The small circle toasted Linda, “To new blood!” Linda felt warm and happy.

Recounting this to Brian later in bed, he remarked that she seemed happier lately.

“And, like, your sleep numbers are better, too. Wanna check the graphs?” He offered his watch to Linda.

“Nah. I feel like you’ve got a good handle on our bio-metric optimization,” Linda teased.

“Hey. When we’re sixty, but we feel thirty, you’re gonna thank me,” he said.

Linda hauled her laptop on to the bed.

“Babe, the blue light,” Brian said.

“I’m just checking my bleats real quick. I’ve got the polarizer on,” said Linda.

Brian tugged down his eye shade and slipped on his sleep-vibrations ring. “Good sleep makes good brains,” he said.

Linda didn’t answer. She refreshed the tab that would bring up new messages, barely even registering the slowness of the browser-based social experience. Among the posts of vacation photos and video news — both of which were too depressing to engage with for long — there was a new bleat urging Linda to “Come back! It’s the conversation we’re all having!”

She had been getting these lately, from old acquaintances. A college classmate she had fallen out of touch with. A friend of a friend she had met once at a party. An overzealous grocery store clerk who got Linda’s contact info before Brian had enlightened her on proper information hygiene. This one, though, was her aunt Rose.

Her aunt Rose had died 8 months ago.

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