"Space is hella weird," Rosario agreed, with a sloping smile that said she dug weird. (Which she did: specifically, the kind of weird that was tens or hundreds or millions of light years away. It was when weird got right up in her face – and her best friend's face and her apartment building and her whole-ass optic nerves – that she had a problem with it.) "You wanna go trippier, think about this: that tiny baby atom universe? Still infinite. Way hotter, way denser, but just as infinite as the universe now. Isn't that crazy?"