“I dont know much about it,” he continued. “What was it?”

“A virus.”

“A lot of people…?”

I nodded.

“Did they ever find a cure?”

“They seem to be close.”

“Ah.” He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe… maybe I helped with that, oui? Maybe… maybe someone found me, and…  and maybe I helped, right?”

“Very possible.”

He was silent for a moment. “… I… I think… I was a dancer. That’s possible, isnt it?”

I nodded again.

“… I seem to remember that. I think… I think I was a good dancer. I mean, I dont think I was much of anything else… Why is it so hard to remember?”

“I dont know. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“Do you… do you think anyone remembers me?”

“I’m sure people do.”

“I really was a good dancer. People would tell me that.”

“They liked to watch you dance?”

“Yes!” he smiled. “Would you like to see?”

“Sure.” I got out my phone. “What kind of music do you want?”

He stared at it. “You have a lot of music on that little thing?”

“I can call up about anything. What would you like?”

“Can you… can you play Rio? It is such une merveilleuse chanson.”

I punched it in, and then the room was filled with music from thirty years ago:

Moving on the floor now babe you’re a bird of paradise
Cherry ice cream smile I suppose it’s very nice
With a step to your left and a flick to the right you catch that mirror way out west
You know you’re something special and you look like you’re the best

Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand
Just like that river twisting through a dusty land
And when she shines she really shows you all she can
Oh Rio, Rio dance across the Rio Grande

He started to dance, and it didnt take long to realize what kind of dancer he’d been. And he was right, he was good. Watching him, I realized that Ray and I had seen the same moves on the danceurs in the clubs on Saint-Laurent, as though the steps had been passed down from one generation to another, like Homer’s Odyssey transformed into bumps and grinds and delivered from master to apprentice. Finally the song ended, and he sat, smiling, on the floor, surprisingly out of breath. “Was I good?”

“Most excellent,” I said as I applauded. “If I had a dollar, I’d give it to you.”

He laughed, then suddenly stopped. “I dont think Georges ever quite understood. I was not… free with my body, as one would say. I was just a dancer.”

“And a very good dancer.”

“Merci. But… but when you consider, I was just a dancer. There were others. I was no one special. Still, I think it was a good life, was it not?”

“I’m sure it was, Étienne.”

He was looking at me — and at the same time I knew he wasnt. He was many, many years away. Then he slapped the floor: it responded with a soft little pop. “I think… I think I can feel this because it was here when I was. We have been together for some moments, eh? Like a friend one can depend on to be there. Otherwise,” he suddenly giggled, “I would fall through to the centre of the earth and maybe come out on the other side. And I dont know Chinese,” he added with a grin. “And who knows, maybe I wouldnt even stop there. Maybe the earth would just pass through me, and I would continue on to… well, wherever that would send me next.”

“But it didnt. You’re still here.”

“Oui. The world shelters me, it seems… I wonder… if it sheltered others.”

“I’m sure it did.”

“Maybe… maybe others dance on the sand somewhere.”

“Maybe.”

And then — suddenly — he was gone.