The lab is a shambles.

Rocky presented me with a sealed, fully functional generator that will last basically forever.

“Good night, Rocky.” “Good night, Grace.”

“Save the world and permanently lift Africa out of poverty while we’re at it.

“I was only off by one percent,” I grumble. “You talk to you, question?” “Yes! I’m talking to me.” “Humans are unusual.”

I shimmy into bed and resist the urge to say good night. It would just lead to more questions.

“♩♫♪♪♫,” says Rocky.

The next two days are, basically, me worrying about what happens next. Oh, I know what happens next—I’m just worrying about it anyway.

I know Liberia uses imperial units but I don’t know my own name. That’s irritating.