The Hopper drifted above Manhattan in autonomous mode, then Alice let it spin down to sit on a deserted Harlem street, the brownstone houses a wall of privilege on either side. She sat in silence, engines ticking as they cooled, then swung up the door and exited, boots crunching on loose gravel. The air was cold and full of scents, alive and organic. Rain created a background patter that made the quiet louder.