"Yeah, I don't really get it, either," Max admits, eyes widening as she breathes out. "But I'm also not going to question it too much when it means I get to see people who are gone, and someone who's been dead for eight months back home."

She looks back to give Kavinsky another grin.

"You better do a damn good job, then." There wasn't anything any of them could do about messing up once in a while, beyond trying again and doing better.

"Replicators. So they make shit?" Max perks up to that. "Like clothes? Music? Walkmans? Skateboards? What's the limit on those things?" Because there had to be a limit on what they could make, or how much, or Kavinsky wouldn't be scavenging. Or maybe he would be if it's just that much fun.