I was working in airblocks when Charon came in, moving sculpted shapes of opacity and colored translucence around to create a light sculpture. [...] "Well, I've been exploring," he said. "Let me show you something." And right next to my light sculpture, he opened a window. Visions unfolded in that window like flowers opening in the sun—first dozens, then as Charon's query raced through the worlds of the Archipelago, hundreds, thousands of subwindows floated in an infinite space next to my sculpture. They rotated in and out of focus at the front of the field. And, in each one of them, a young woman stood in front of a half-finished light sculpture. "This is what's happening right this second, all across the Archipelago," said Charon. "I simply asked inscape to show me all the publically accessible feeds from girls who are working with airblocks." The particulars were different—some of the girls stood outside, some inside, some in virtual spaces; some had white faces, some black, some blue and with any variety of genetically varied combinations of features. But out of trillions of people, it was inevitable that some large number of girls, basically human, all basically my age, would right now all be doing precisely what I was doing. I had never really understood that before. "It gets better," said Charon. "Let's do a query on how many of those sculptures are just like yours." "Stop," I said, but he went ahead with it, opening a second window—and there they were, dozens of girls making my sculpture. "And even better," he continued, enjoying the look of horror that must have stolen across my face then, "let's see how many of those girls are being mocked by a friend who's doing queries next to their work—" "Stop it!" I tried to hit him, though of course the etiquette fields of the house prevented the blow from landing. "Don't you get it?" he shouted as he retreated to the door. "You're wallpaper, Ishani. You can't have a thought that a million other people aren't having, you can't do anything that a million other people aren't also doing. It doesn't matter what you say or whether you live or die because a million other you's are there to take your place. So why should I care what you do to me? You're wallpaper. Wallpaper!" And so he fled.

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