After the show, a young person approached and handed Jonas a flash drive. "For you," they said. "I made this with Opus. It told me my grandmother’s recipe while I was composing." Jonas accepted it without opening it. Outside, the river reflected the sodium lamps and the moon like a second sky. Somewhere in the city, an anonymous package sat on a doorstep, its label blank, the word Opus faintly stenciled into the dust.