At the old VW Bug, Eva has the driver’s side door wide open. She is sitting sideways in her seat, long legs visible – the car manual in one hand, flashlight in the other.
“Hey,” she tells Dany, “Mister Faraday is fifty-eight years overdue for a lube.” She shows the owner’s manual to Dany and grins. “Oh,” Eva adds, “I’ve got more than fifty thousand followers, I mean, at last count – but the interweb, it’s, like, slowly disappearing into the Borg.” Eva tries to sound casual, but her excitement is plain. Yes, it’s the apocalypse. Yes, the world is probably ending, but in terms of social media, Eva’s hit a high point.
Dany narrows her eyes for a second. She thinks about Eva and her follower count – actually, truly thinks about her answer – before she speaks.
Eva is proud of herself.
“
