by C. A. Gray
I couldn’t totally read his expression, but I did see the comprehension dawn. Did he look uncomfortable? “What’s the matter?” he asked.
So I told him. I told him about cutting school, about going with Liam to the Capital, and about how my mom had called me selfish and hung up on me. A little piece of me hoped he would volunteer to come with us, even though I knew he wouldn’t.
“So… you’re upset about your mom, then?”
“Yes!” I snapped, annoyed that he seemed so apathetic to the rest of my story. What about the whole dropping out of school thing, the sacrifice I was making to try to stop what appeared to be a tyrant from stealing the last vestiges of humanity from us? (Even though that wasn’t my real motive.)
“I’m sure she’ll come around,” Andy shrugged. “Sorry you guys fought.”
I blinked at him, and I could feel before it happened that I was about to say something I’d regret.
“You don’t care at all, do you?”
His eyes widened. “Of course I care!”
“No you don’t! You’re so busy getting plastered and making out with random girls that you can’t see past your next party!”
Andy gaped at me. “Wha—?”
“I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up before he could see me burst into fresh tears.
I glanced up at last to see Madeline struggling for something supportive to say. “Well… I’m sure he deserved it…”
“I’m just so tired of this!” I sobbed. “Andy doesn’t care about me, he doesn’t care about anybody but himself!”
On the bed beside me, my handheld blinked with a comm from Liam: two of them, actually. The first one came when I was talking to either Mom or Andy, and it said, “Dr Yin actually knows someone who knows Halpert himself! She thinks she might be able to get us an introduction. Friends in high places can’t hurt anything.” The second comm, about half an hour later, said, “Hell-ooo?”
I tossed the handheld aside. I couldn’t deal with Liam right now.
“What are you really upset about?” Madeline prodded, in a low, soothing tone. “Andy, or your mom?”
I thought for a minute, sniffed, and wiped my face. “Both.” Then I added, “But mostly my mom. I just hate, hate the idea that she thinks I’m irresponsible and self-centered, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t make her understand, and that is the most helpless, frustrating feeling… All I wanted was for Andy to make up for it by at the very least telling me he admired my choice, and that I was doing the right thing! If not deciding to come with us. Which I guess I didn’t really expect. But he doesn’t get it, either. Nobody gets it!”
“Maybe… if you told Andy what you wanted him to say?” Madeline suggested.
“What good is it if I have to tell him what to say?” I shot back. I knew Madeline was only trying to help, and I was making it hard on her by shooting down all her suggestions. But really. Tell him?
I glanced at the netscreen and saw that Jake was on A.E. also. “I could tell Jake, or Julie,” I murmured, looking at the blinking name on my netscreen, “But he won’t get it either. Jake already thinks I work too much and I should lighten up. Mom thinks I work too little and should get serious.” I gave a short, humorless laugh.
“So… you can’t please everybody,” Madeline surmised.
“I’m not asking for everybody. I’m just asking the people I love to understand that I’m not being irresponsible and selfish, I’m making a sacrifice!” My handheld lit up again. “Ugh, what?!” I groaned, and grabbed it. Liam’s third comm flashed: “Sorry, you’re probably out saying goodbye to your friends and ignoring your comms and here I am pestering you like you have as little life as I have. :) Write me when you can.”
“Yeah. Me and my thriving social life,” I sniffed miserably. I still didn’t feel like writing Liam back just yet—who incidentally now was in a much better mood than he had been this morning—so instead I composed a comm to both Jake and Julie. I still needed some support from someone, but I didn’t have the courage for another potentially disastrous holograph conversation.
What I wrote was, “I know you won’t understand this and you’ll think I’m obsessive, but I’m cutting school for however long it takes to try to spread the world about Halpert’s challenge and where it will lead. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
I just stared at the screen after I sent it, waiting and hoping for someone to say something encouraging. A few minutes later, Jake wrote, “I think what you’re doing is heroic, Becca. You know a lot more about all that stuff than I do. Maybe I’ll pop over and see you sometime, wherever you are, and convince you to take a little time off!”
I closed my eyes with relief. I could always count on Jake. I wrote back: “Thank you so much! I would love that!”
As I wrote Jake, Julie’s reply popped up: “Wow. Well, good luck, I guess! I’ll miss you! Let me know when you’re back.”
Somewhat less supportive than Jake’s had been, but at least she didn’t tell me I was crazy or stupid.
“What if someone else told Andy what you wanted him to say?” Madeline suggested. “Would that be good?”
“No, if he cares enough, he’ll figure it out on his own,” I muttered. But I did feel slightly better with Jake and Julie’s support.
“You know what you need!” chirped Madeline suddenly.
“What?”
“A cup of hot cocoa, and Jane of Wilder Mountains, while you pack!”
I smiled in spite of myself. Jane of Wilder Mountains was one of my favorite films. It was set in simpler times, about misunderstandings and happily ever afters. It was directed by Abraham Chiefton—Liam said he was one of Halpert’s board, and I guess now that I thought about it, I could see a tiny bit of propaganda in there. Jane did have a faithful companion bot who saved the day, after all… but then, so did I. The film never failed to make me happy.
“Not a bad idea,” I admitted.
“I’ll queue it up while you go heat up some milk!” Madeline announced. The water kettle was in my room, but my favorite cocoa was always better with milk than with water, which required the kitchen. I kissed Madeline’s shiny forehead.
“Thanks,” I whispered. “You always know what to do.”
She beamed at me.
I moved slower than I needed to, still feeling sad about my mom and about Andy. I heated the milk in a pan, stirring so that it wouldn’t burn, when I got another comm: it was from Andy this time.
“I don’t know who told you I’m getting trashed and making out with random girls, but it’s not true.”
I snorted, a flare of indignation rising again as I shoved the handheld back into my pocket. Ivan told me he had been, and Ivan wasn’t a liar. Andy, on the other hand, would say whatever was most convenient at the time. He just wanted me to think he was wholesome because I was—that was my reputation. He did like me, so he wanted me to think well of him. Either that, or he just wants everyone to think well of him, I added to myself bitterly, pouring the heated milk into my waiting mug. I carried it back to my room, putting Andy’s comm out of my mind.
I couldn’t put it out of my mind. I couldn’t think about anything else. As soon as I reached the room and set the mug down, I pulled out my handheld again and dashed off, “What about Yolanda?”
A second later, Andy wrote, “We’re just friends.”
“Is that Andy?” Madeline asked, knowing.
“He’s telling me he and Yolanda are ‘just friends!’ As if Ivan hasn’t told me everything!”
Madeline wheeled in front of me, fretting. “What do you want to happen with Andy?”
“I just—I just want him to know better than to hook up with a brainless bimbo just because she’s easy and she’s there!” I railed, as the opening credits of Jane of Wilder Mountains rolled. “He once told me I was a beautiful girl, and I’m ‘so brilliant and so far above him,’ and then he goes and hooks up with the likes of her! If I’m so g
reat, why, why, why?” I threw the handheld on the bed as if it had done me a personal insult, and yanked my suitcase out of the closet, slamming my few personal belongings inside with similar vehemence. “It’s like I’m invisible! I can win in every category across the board, and still he picks whatever other girl happens to be in front of him at the time! It can be me against anybody, anybody else, and he’ll always pick the other girl. Always!”
Jane, the girl in the pretty gingham dress appeared on the netscreen, traipsing through the woods and gathering wildflowers, her faithful companion bot at her side. I had seen the film so many times that I could quote it; no need to pay attention.
Madeline waited for me to stop breathing so hard before she finally asked, “So you want Andy to pick you, then? That would make you happy?”
My eyes swiveled to her and narrowed. “What kind of a question is that? Of course that would make me happy!” She said nothing, and just watched me. At first this irked me even more. I sank down to the bed beside the open suitcase and added irritably, “I don’t know what you’re implying.”
Madeline rolled over until she was as close to me as she could get. “I’m just trying to understand. You say you want him to pick you, but every time he comes close to pursuing you, saying all those things you just mentioned, you panic and avoid him.”
“I do not—!”
Madeline went on, “Then when he goes after some other girl again, you’re devastated. And you complain that you don’t have much to say to each other, either…”
“That’s not true—” I started.
Madeline interrupted, “So running those facts through my algorithms of possible human motivations, one thing keeps coming up: you think you want to be with him, but you don’t, really.”
“How can you say that?” I demanded. “All I want is Andy! That’s all I’ve ever wanted, for years!”
Madeline blinked at me rapidly, her digital eyes darting all around the room like she was scrolling through an internal flow chart. “If that is true, and if human relationships always begin with initiation, and if he has given you many clues in the past that he had feelings for you, without a favorable response, then I see only one possible solution that is currently under our control.”
“Oh yeah?” I sighed. “And what’s that?”
“Tell him how you feel.”
“What? No!” I cried, spluttering, “I can’t… he’s… making out with other people! He’d say no, and it would wreck our friendship, and it would be so awkward, and I’d be devastated…”
Madeline rolled back and forth in front of me. “Algorithms of human behavior imply that he is unlikely to approach you again without encouragement—”
“I’m giving him encouragement!” I cried, “look at the conversation we just had! How could he possibly think that was anything other than jealousy? Oh, geez,” I sank to the floor, suddenly mortified as I realized how obvious this was.
“In that case, you have nothing to lose by making it explicit,” Madeline pointed out.
“No. I’m not doing that. No.” I folded my arms over my chest for emphasis.
She blinked rapidly again; cue the internal flowchart, I thought. “Would you wish for him to know how you feel, if you didn’t have to be the one to tell him?”
“What, you mean if someone else told him? No, that’d be awful! Unless they were just guessing or something, like if Ivan said he suspected it, I guess that would be okay. But if Julie or someone just told him—” I shuddered. “I’d be humiliated!”
“But Ivan guessing would be okay?”
I shrugged. “I guess so.” I was tired of talking about this; it was all hypothetical anyway. I rested my back on the edge of the bed, my cocoa growing cold on the desk above me, staring at Jane and Humphrey at their town’s country square dance without really seeing them. Finally I got up and resumed packing. Madeline didn’t speak either.
She was wrong. I didn’t pull away when I had the opportunity—I’d never actually had the opportunity!
The handheld vibrated again, and I groaned. “Ugh, what now?”
But it was Mom. “I’m sorry I blew up at you. Your father died because of the stress of the very conspiracy theories that I’m afraid you are now believing. The bitterness of it claimed his life, and those of many of his companions. I want more than that for you, and I’m afraid that you’re throwing away your one chance at bettering your future. I’m sorry for saying you were being selfish. I just don’t want you to follow in his footsteps. Please don’t go to the Capital, Rebecca. For me.”
“What?” Madeline whispered when she saw my face. My eyes glistened with tears.
“Mom,” I whispered to her, wiping the tears away. I hated to disappoint her further, but at least we were talking in a civilized way now. I wrote, “I know, Mom. I don’t want to throw away the opportunity you and Dad gave me, and that isn’t what this is about. This isn’t going to be a ‘fun’ trip. I’m going with Liam, too, so I’ll still be working on experiment ideas while I’m there. He wants me to try to design an experiment to identify free will in the brain, so we can build in a failsafe and block the new generation of bots from having it. He said this might even turn into my Ph.D. thesis.”
Liam! I realized I’d never written him back, in the midst of all the mess with Andy and with Mom. Once I’d sent my reply to Mom, I wrote Liam and said, “That’s great, I’m glad we’ll have some connections to make this easier!”
Mom’s comm came back: “You can work on your experiments in Dublin. Tell me you won’t be going to the Capital, Rebecca.”
I frowned, annoyed. Why was she being so insistent about this? I was an adult, after all.
“Why don’t you just tell her you aren’t going?” Madeline whispered, hovering over me.
“Because I am going, and Mom and I don’t lie to each other,” I said, still frowning. Then I wrote, “I don’t want to disappoint you, Mom. But I have to do what I think is right.”
A few seconds later, she wrote, “Just what do you think you’re going to do in the Capital, anyway? Who do you know there that can be of any use to you?”
I huffed my answer aloud to Madeline: “I don’t know, Liam’s the one with the connections and the ideas. Not like it would mean anything to her if I told her who they were anyway.” Unless she wants to know if any of Liam’s connections are former friends of Dad’s. I wrote, “I’m sure all of Dad’s contacts are long gone, Mom.”
She replied, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
I sighed again, tossing the handheld back onto the bed. We weren’t going to resolve this tonight.
I should probably apologize to Andy, though, I thought. I grabbed the handheld again and told him I hadn’t meant it and was upset about Mom, not about him. I asked him to forgive me.
I flashed back to dinner with Liam—was that just last week?—when he’d asked me what my core programming was.
“Be perfect. And then they’ll love you,” I’d said.
The problem is, according to whose standard?
Chapter 12
The next morning, Liam rapped his knuckles against my door in a little syncopated knock pattern that told me he was still in a good mood.
“Latte. Right?” He thrust a cup at me as soon as I opened the door, his blue eyes dancing with excitement.
I laughed, still groggy. “Thanks. I’m almost ready, come in.”
“Really? You are?” He looked me up and down—I still wore leopard print pajama pants and the t-shirt I’d slept in.
“What, you don’t think I’ll fit in?” I looked down at my own attire.
Madeline rolled in behind me, and chirped, “I packed everything I could reach—oh.” She stopped when she saw Liam. “Hello.”
“Hello again.” Liam’s tone couldn’t be any chillier.
I sighed, exasperated. “Okay, you two are going to have to find a way to make nice with each other, because we’re all going to be spending
a lot of time together. I’m going to go change, and when I come back…” I gave Liam a pointed look.
He pretended to glare back at me, but I could tell he wasn’t really annoyed. This was the best possible time to leave him alone with Madeline. I didn’t think anything could dampen his spirits today.
We finally left my flat an hour before our Quantum Shuttle left. Liam zipped Madeline into my backpack himself, and even offered to carry it for me, along with my little suitcase and his own—a show of goodwill, I’m sure, in exchange for the sacrifice I was making. Of course he knew that I wasn’t making it for him, per se, but he didn’t seem to care about my specific motivations. Or maybe he was just being a gentleman. Funny, I thought—I’d associated a lot of words with Liam in the years I’d known him, but gentleman was never one of them. He even bought me breakfast in the station before we boarded: an egg and sausage pasty and yet another latte.
“I know you’re an addict,” was his reply when I thanked him. “Besides, you still look only half awake. What were you doing last night, partying the night away?”
I snorted. “Not exactly.”
He gave me a sidelong glance. Normally that reply would have been enough, but today he seemed determined to make conversation as I settled beside him on the Quantum Track compartment, nestling the backpack containing Madeline between my feet.
“Well?” he prompted. “You weren’t answering my comms, so I assumed you must have been out doing something.”
“Because normally I don’t do anything except sit around staring at my handheld with bated breath, waiting for your comms.” Recent anomalies excepted, I still didn’t really want to pour my heart out to Liam.
His lips twitched. “You could just enable the comm feature chip in your temple, so my comms will display directly on your retinas, you know. Then you’ll never miss a comm from me again!”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” I smirked, sipping my latte. I still felt he was waiting for an answer, so I said, “All I was doing was packing, with a movie on as background noise. And I talked to a few people on holograph. That’s all.”