Out onto the new span now, Treasure Island behind them, past those few remaining pylons of the old bridge, preserved out of concern for something’s habitat, she couldn’t remember what, and then the cold glare of what Joe-Eddy deemed the world’s shittiest LED billboards. To loop back, toward East Bay waterfront and the penetrative reek of the EBMUD plant, unseen at first but soon a dingy miniature Tomorrowland in the middle distance, fairy realm of off-white domes and sewage piping.