Still, you couldn’t allow something like this to spoil your plans. That was Morgana’s attitude. Not that anything like this had ever happened before – the TV and newspapers and Internet now provided 24-7 coverage of a phenomenon that seemed straight out of the science fiction novels I’d held such a distaste for – but my wife insisted we continue living our lives. For example: Alanna and Mitch, our rural friends, had invited us up north to their home in Hope Mountain for brunch on a Saturday not long after the New York accident, and, goddamn it, Morgana said, we were going. I tried to talk her out of it. Until we could get a handle on exactly what this pullulation thing entailed, I was happier to just stick close to home. But my wife would have none of it. We nearly had a fight, and I was o
