Julien ignored it. He was a downloader, not a poet.

His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "Les pavés chantent sous la lune." (The cobblestones sing under the moon.)

"You didn't download MGL Marseille. MGL Marseille downloaded you."

By noon, he was standing on the sun-scorched cobblestones of Marseille's Vieux-Port, a shovel in one hand and a dead phone in the other—because his battery had died the moment he stepped off the train.