Love Minus Eighty (38 page)

Winter tapped her own gorgeous, wildly expensive system, then looked around, inhaling deeply. “Wow. I see what you mean. It’s a completely different place.” She nodded. “I’m going to keep mine off too, so we’re seeing the same things.”

To say nothing of smelling the same things. The air was rife with a pungent industrial odor.

“I can’t help thinking of my brother, out there somewhere living a Raw Life,” Winter said. “I miss him. I didn’t always agree with him, but I respected his conviction.” She looked at Rob. “In a lot of ways he reminds me of you.”

Rob smiled, basking in the compliment. “Did you ever think you might want to go find him? Were you ever tempted by the Raw Life?” He tried to make the question sound like casual curiosity, but it was more than that, really. If she ever decided to bolt, if
they
ever decided to bolt, a raw community would be a possible destination.

Winter sighed, a little wistfully. “Not really. I like the pace
of the city. I would miss being connected to everyone, to everything.”

Rob nodded, though he felt slightly disappointed. He wanted to ask if she thought she could at least tolerate a Raw Life, if it meant the two of them could be together, but it wasn’t fair to ask. The risk would be enormous for her, much greater than for him.

“Don’t be thrown if Dad introduces you to the image of my mom that he’s got wandering the house.”

“Do I pretend she’s a live person, or how do I treat her?”

“He won’t expect you to play along or anything. Maybe just comment that she was pretty, or something. He’d like that.”

It was so strange, to think Winter and his dad were about to meet. Rob couldn’t help wondering about the significance of it. Did Winter see it as coming home to meet the parents? Again, he reminded himself of Winter’s situation. They couldn’t ever be a couple in the typical sense. Unless they ran away and disappeared.

“This is it.” Rob pointed to his house, second on the right on Appleby Street. Part of him wished Winter hadn’t disabled her sensory filter, so the house would appear less dilapidated than it was.

“It has a good feel to it. A warmth.”

Dad opened the side door before they had a chance to knock. He grinned at Winter, spread his arms, and when Winter hugged him, he squeezed her tight, rocked her back and forth. When he finally broke away to look at her, there were tears in his eyes, as if he’d been reunited with an old, dear friend. It wasn’t until Winter sniffed that Rob realized she was crying too.

Dad put an arm across Rob’s shoulder, and led them both into the house. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, but to Rob’s surprise, Dad didn’t introduce her to Winter. Instead, he went to the cabinet, lifted out a pot.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked.

“I’d love some.” Winter approached Rob’s mom almost reverently, studied her for a moment. “Your wife was beautiful, Mr. Mashita.”

His dad turned, smiling a little sadly. “That’s kind of you to say, and I must agree. And call me Lorne. We’ve known each other for two years, even if you didn’t know it.”

“Oh, I did.” Winter peeked into Lorne’s business room. “May I?”

“Sure,” Lorne said. “I usually charge six dollars for the tour, but I’ll give it to you for free.” Lorne flipped on the lights.

Winter walked around, arms folded. She lingered for a long time at the Wall of Fame, studying photos, especially the old ones, chuckling at some of the goofy poses.

Finally, she turned to face Lorne. “This is a good place. You can feel it, just standing here.”

There was a tap on the front door. Rob half expected it to be a customer looking to get an after-work haircut, but it was Veronika, Nathan, and Lycan. Each was carrying a stay-fresh food container.

They had dinner, the six of them—seven if you counted Mom—and everyone seemed to have a wonderful time except Nathan, who was polite but distracted, and hollow-eyed.

Veronika had told Rob a few days earlier that her friendship with Lycan had morphed into something more. Not a romance, she insisted, but an NPMC—a “nonplatonic monogamous companionship.” Seeing them together, you wouldn’t know anything had changed, except that instead of
mostly looking at his hands, Lycan mostly looked at Veronika. He also spoke more, seemed more connected to the group, even cracked a couple of jokes. Nathan, on the other hand, spent most of the evening looking off into space. Evidently Lorelei’s new romance was popular with her viewers. Rob imagined it was difficult, hearing about everything your ex-girlfriend was doing on the microfeeds.

Lorne was showing everyone the expression Rob had made the day Peter sauntered in and asked if someone was interested in information about a bridesicle, when Rob was pinged.

It was from Peter, a text-only message. Cryomed was going to announce the closing of their facilities in the morning.

Rob leaped from his seat. “
Holy shit
.” He enlarged the message so everyone could see it.

“Holy shit,” Winter echoed as they gaped at the message.

Cryomed was closing their bridesicle facilities. All of them. They weren’t reforming their practices, they were simply pulling the plug on the entire program.

“Why would they do that?” Veronika asked. “Bridesicle Watch wasn’t demanding they close the whole thing down, just make the process more humane.”

Why would they do that?
Rob sent to Peter.

The reply came promptly. Rob posted it for all to see.

The program was not a huge revenue source for Cryomed. Easier to shut it down than to institute the reforms. Plus, this way they go out on their own terms, appear stronger.

Rob shot back a quick subvocalized reply.
I know that’s exactly what you wanted to happen. Your wife is at peace. Thank you.
He’d gotten what he wanted, but sitting beside Winter, Rob couldn’t help feeling guilty.

“Good. Good for Sunali,” Winter said, fighting back tears.

Rob wondered if it
was
good. Fewer women would now have a chance to be revived. If not for the program, Winter wouldn’t be sitting next to him, squeezing his hand.

“That’s right,” Veronika said. “Good for Sunali. She did it.” She patted Lycan on the back. “With some help.”

“With a lot of help,” Rob said. “From both of you.” He raised his glass. “Vee and Lycan, congratulations.”

Lycan, who had been staring at the news feed, didn’t lift his glass. “What about the women who don’t have insurance, though? What happens to them?”

“Surely they have to move them to the main facility,” Veronika said. “After the black eye they took over the way they were treating them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Winter said. “Either way, they’re better off.” She looked around the table. “I know I owe my life to that place, but believe me, they’re better off.”

Lorne nodded, thoughtful. “No one would know better than you.”

Winter rode back to the city with the others while Rob took the train. They met back at Rob’s apartment and made love in his pullout bed.

Afterward, they lay clutching each other, as if anticipating a hurricane that would pull them apart.

“I wish I could feel happier, after what happened today,” Winter said. “All I keep thinking is, it doesn’t affect me at all. I’m still an indentured servant.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’m glad the dating center is closing, but I was hoping the protests would force the government to outlaw lifetime-marriage agreements.”

Winter nodded. “I guess I should work on being grateful. By all rights I should be ashes right now.”

Rob turned his head and kissed her temple. “I’m definitely grateful that’s not the case.”

“Maybe you should send Red a thank-you card.”

She clearly meant it to be a joke, but the words stung.

“I want
this
to be my life,” Winter said.

Rob kissed her temple again. They stared up at the yellowing plastic ceiling.

“So why did you decide to become a teacher?” Rob asked.

Winter rolled on her side, propped her head with her hand. “I’d be lying if I said I went into it because I wanted to make a difference. The truth is, it was one of the few degrees I could afford, one of the few doors I could find out of poverty. I specialized in English because it was the cheapest teaching degree they offered. Once I was in the classroom, all that cold-eyed pragmatism melted away. I got to know the students, all of their stories, and it stopped being about me.”

“I pulled up a recording of you teaching, when we were doctoring your profile. You’re pretty awesome. Do you have any plans to go back?”

“I can’t. I have to be available when Red needs me, for luncheons and stuff.”

Rob only nodded. By silent assent, they’d both stopped railing against the unfairness of Winter’s situation. It only served to make their time together less pleasant.

“Your father is a wonderful man,” Winter said into Rob’s neck. “There’s so much love in him. It’s as if he’s ready to burst, he loves so much.”

“That’s a good description of him.” Rob thought of what his father had learned about Mom with the lie-detector application. “I think the hard part is, he loves so much he never gets as much love back as he gives. As much as I love him, I’m not capable of returning all the love he gives me.”

Winter leaped from the bed like she’d been goosed. “Shit. Red just pinged me.”

Rob jumped up to help her find her clothes as she frantically pulled on her panties.

“He
never
contacts me when he’s out of town.”

“We need to come up with a good answer, when he asks why there was a long delay in lifting your block.”

Winter pulled her system on, grabbed the sock Rob was holding out to her, pulled it on while hopping on one foot. “Shit. He’ll want to know what I’m doing in Low Town, in a residential area.”

“Did you know anyone who lives around here, before you died?”

“No,” she said. “
Yes.
Keener Piven. He taught history. Assuming he still lives in the same apartment.” Her fingers flew across her system; a map with a flashing red dot materialized. “Yes.” She pulled her boot on and sprinted for the door; it opened just before she plowed into it. She disappeared down the hall.

Moving more slowly, Rob went into the hallway, took the catwalk to the window at the front of the building so he could watch her leave.

Winter slowed as soon as she hit the sidewalk. A screen opened beside her an instant later. From his angle, Rob couldn’t see Red very well, but even so, the sight of him sent a prickling mixture of disgust and dread through Rob. Not for the first time, he wished the old man would die, once and for all. But that was unlikely; with revivification he was almost guaranteed to live another twenty years at least, unless he was run over by a train, or his island collapsed on him.

Veronika wasn’t sure what to do with herself while she ate.

She watched the news for a while. They were still talking about the great bridesicle protest, and Cryomed’s announcement. There was an entire documentary about the woman whose likeness had been used in the protest—Mira Bach—although they didn’t know much about her beyond where she had lived, that she had been employed by the US Army, that she died in an industrial accident. Veronika wondered why no one had gone to the bridesicle place to interview her. It wouldn’t officially close for another three weeks. Maybe Cryomed wouldn’t allow anyone to see her.

A rap on the door startled her. She popped a screen outside to see who it was, saw it was Nathan, and opened the door.

“Hey, hey,” he said. “Have you eaten yet? I brought Sishwala.”

One of Veronika’s favorites. “Wow, I was going to eat a sandwich.”

Her drone set out dishes, and they talked about the closing of the bridesicle program, and about Rob and Winter. Nathan didn’t bring up Lorelei at all. He seemed less morose than he’d been, but rather than being his old upbeat self, he seemed preoccupied, on edge.

“So how are you feeling?” Veronika finally asked.

“I’m feeling stupid,” Nathan answered, as if it were a perfectly legitimate response.

“Oh? How so?”

Nathan set his fork down, looked at Veronika, and cleared his throat. “I think I let the perfect woman slip through my fingers.”

“Lorelei didn’t slip through your fingers, sweetie, she bit them off.”

“I’m not talking about Lorelei.” He took a sip of water. “I’m talking about you.”

“
Me?
” Veronika almost dropped her fork.

Nathan nodded. “I’ve been thinking about my life, the choices I’ve made, my trouble with relationships. Through all the ups and downs, all the shit, the one constant good thing has been you.”

Veronika wasn’t sure what to say. For the past four years she’d been waiting for Nathan to say exactly this. Handsome, charming Nathan. He was talking fast, probably hopped up on bugs and caffeine.

“I didn’t realize just how much I enjoyed having you around until you weren’t around anymore.” Nathan closed his mouth, waited for Veronika to say something.

Veronika studied his face, his firm jaw, his smoky-brown eyes under perfectly manicured eyebrows. She knew every curve, every line, the placement of every whisker on that face.

Nathan set the fork down, evidently finished, although
he’d only eaten half of his lunch. “It’s funny. Friendships are Catch twenty-twos when you’re single and in your thirties. Friends are your life rafts. You try to help each other meet people, you confide in each other, you spend Thanksgiving, Valentine’s Day, all those emotional land-mine holidays together. But sooner or later one of you is going to meet someone and be gone into the world of couples.”

This wasn’t about her, she realized. Not really. He wanted to hang on to a lifestyle that was disappearing, and she represented that lifestyle. He was terribly lonely. He had lots of friends, but no one he could talk to besides her. His other friendships were wafer-thin.

“I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always be your friend.”

He lifted his fork, studied it for a moment, as if there might be an answer caught between the tines. “I know. And I’m glad you’re happy, I really am.”