9

And yet where, then, to roam? The whole of the United States, and then the rest of the world beyond, lie before you. The wealth of options open to you risks paralyzing you with indecision. But for all the possibilities that open with this new state of being, practical considerations remain, regardless. Is this "ghost" state permanent? Are there limits to how far you can travel, how long you can endure?

Better to make this city a temporary home, until you know yourself a little better—and until you've decided on somewhere else to go.

Night draws to an end soon enough. You spend these hours walking the streets of this city, which, thanks to street signs, you soon enough identify as Boston, Massachusetts. The city does not seem familiar to you, nor does its name strike a particular chord. You make your way to the city's waterfront as the sun creeps up over the eastern horizon. Daylight touches your insubstantial form for the first time.

And with the day, the city comes to life. Millions of people traveling, working, chatting, enjoying one another's company. Or sitting in silence, reading, listening to music, looking at phones or tablets.

Not one of them can see you. None of them can hear you. Several times throughout the day, inhabitants of Boston unwittingly walk right through you.

And then night again, and day again. Night again, day again.