When he got back to his computer, Twitter was still broken. He pulled the blue plastic tarp off his laptop, then folded it and carried it out to the grocery cart and packed it and came back with their plates and some cornmeal cakes in a plastic bag and a plastic bottle of syrup. He spread the small tarp they used for a table on the ground and laid everything out and he took the pistol from his belt and laid it on the cloth and then he just sat watching the laptop go into sleep mode. He'd pulled away his mask in the night and it was buried somewhere in the blankets. He watched the laptop and he looked out through the trees toward the road. This was not a safe place. They could be seen from the road now it was day. The laptop hummed quietly in the blankets. Then its screen went bright. Hi, Papa, the laptop said.