Atop the scratchy floral bedspread and happy, I turn on the TV, flip through the channels until landing on a familiar episode of Law & Order. A woman has been stabbed and murdered. The detectives hunt for a man. J asks if I want to explore. I decline. He goes out into the night. If we were in San Francisco, I’d have to go to sleep by now, and then I’d have to get up early to go to the office. I’d have to write two to four stories about new gadgets. I’d have to avoid thinking about whether the work mattered. I’d have to listen to Jasmine or whoever complain about work. I would have to listen to myself complain about work. Other reporters would cover the important stuff: the Google bus protests, the privacy breaches, the tech tax breaks ruining the city.