“She said she broke us up because in order to fully understand love, I had to lose it. And I get it now; Alexa was right. You can’t know what you have until it’s gone. In the beginning, we were together almost by default — certainly due to O’s engineering. But after our split, we decided to come back together. I had to look all you’d done in the eye and make a choice as to whether I loved you enough to accept it. Whether the good outweighed the bad. And that’s exactly what happened. I had Brad ask you to come over because I kept thinking of us. And thinking. And thinking. And I realized that for a bunch of reasons I wasn’t ready to let you go, regardless of our problems.”
Andrew shifted. She didn’t want him to feel guilty or to shame him. Chloe had done plenty wrong herself. She’d said and done some awful things, the cruelest of which was their sexual grudge match right before she’d walked away, declaring that his next time with her could only be as a client. But there would be time for that discussion later. All the time in the world, she suspected.
“I’m good at reading people,” Chloe said, “and when all was said and done, I got a good read from Alexa. And even Parker. I hate so much of what they did to me, but in the end, I think they did the right things for the right reasons. You came to my apartment because I called you, but Alexa let you in. They helped us get away and gave us supplies. I don’t know if you understand how hard that had to be for them. The way they treated me, it’s like I was—”
“I know what O had bet on you, Chloe. Believe me — more than anyone, I know how important you were to them. But that’s something Alexa and Parker talked a lot about when we were leaving the city. Alexa’s kind of a hippie in disguise. Her spiritual outlook sort of trumps everything else. She said that O would suffer without you. But that didn’t matter because keeping you safe was most important.”
“And I want to believe it. And I do believe it, almost entirely.”
“Almost?”
“It’s just that … well, what if, Andrew? I can tell there’s nothing weird about the clothes or bag they gave us; I only need to ‘think at it’ to know there’s nothing there that’s remotely connected or intelligent. But what if O wants to hold one last ace? What if they do plan to let us go off-grid, but because they know where we are, they can change their minds and find us?”
Andrew smirked. Chloe looked over but he was focused on the road. The old car didn’t have auto drive even back where Crossbrace Fi was still in the air, but out here in the dead zones, only human hands could steer the thing.
“What?”
“I didn’t tell you that part, did I?”
“What part?” She looked at the road and again at the map with its big X, marking their destination. It wasn’t far. “What didn’t you tell me, Andrew?”
“The spot Parker marked on the map,” Andrew said. “It’s not where we’re supposed to put down roots.”
“It’s not?”
He shook his head.
“Then what is it?’
“It’s where we rendezvous.”
“Rendezvous? With who?”
“That’s ‘with whom,’” Andrew said, smiling wider, maddening, enjoying his secret. “Didn’t you ever go to school?”
Fifteen minutes later, Andrew turned onto the map’s final dirt road.
There was nothing around. Just rocks, craggy hillsides and an abundance of pines. The air had grown cold; Chloe had felt it when the sun through the glass had warmed her enough to prompt an open window. They must be up high. Her ears kept wanting to pop.
Ahead, the pines beside the barely-there road yawned into a clearing with a small creek across it and absolutely nothing else. No buildings, no lean-tos, no pleasant little off-grid city to settle in. Just a beat up white truck that looked easily as old as their car. It had doubled-up rear wheels, and each of the two back axles had a pair of tires on either side. The truck had probably been meant for hauling. Now, rusted as it was, it looked fit for little more than the scrap heap.
Andrew stopped the car as if this was all expected. He put it into Park, killed the loud engine, then turned fully to look at Chloe with one arm slung back over the seat as if to say, Your destination, Madame.
Chloe’s brow furrowed. “Who’s in the truck?”
“Go and see.”
“Who is it?”
“If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m not going to tell you.”
Chloe looked at Andrew’s infuriating smile, then at the truck. She could see people inside, but no details. The truck’s window was fogged with age and cracked in the corner just like their own windshield.
“We can’t run off with just anyone,” Chloe said. “We don’t need to go with them. We can find our own place.”
“It’s not just anyone.”
“I don’t like it. We have no idea if we can trust them.”
“This is a man we can trust.”
“How do you know that? Alexa sent us here. And like I said, I mostly believe her intentions at this point, but—”
“Nobody here will just do whatever Alexa Mathis says. Nobody here ever has. We’ve all had our disagreements with her. We’ve all fought back when she pushed too hard in a direction we didn’t like. We’re all independent thinkers who obey our internal compasses more than we follow Alexa’s, even though in the end, we can’t help but like and believe in her.”
He spoke so precisely. He was teasing her. But what was the meaning?
Chloe’s eyes returned to the truck, now more curious than anything.
“Who are we meeting, Andrew?”
“Just get out of the car.”
She did. And with Andrew’s hand in hers, Chloe paced slowly forward.
A woman with chestnut hair that had begun to streak gray, maybe fifty years old with a vitality that spoke of someone much younger, stepped out of the cab. And on the other side, a very tall man, powerfully, youthfully built, but with the clear bearing of a gentle giant.
The man was older than the woman, though not by much. His hair was also streaked gray but still held much of its original brown.
His eyes hadn’t changed. Those intense, focused, compassionate, Boy Scout’s eyes.
He came forward and extended a hand.
“Chloe and Andrew, I presume?”
Chloe nodded. Andrew was grinning, both at Chloe and the newcomers.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” he said, taking Chloe’s hand. “I’m Anthony Ross.”
CHAPTER TEN
Chloe was too young to ever have seen Anthony Ross in his prime, but she’d run across many of his early videos on Crossbrace — both by accident while orbiting the likes of Clive Spooner and the founders of the Forage engine and deliberately while digging deep on Alexa Mathis. His style, both early on and late in his career, before he’d vanished, was exuberant enough to border cheesy. But even in the old vids, Chloe had been able to sense that the man was sincere, not putting on an act. And in that, he’d changed not a whit.
They’d come without people. There was no entourage, no accompanying band of followers — odd for a man who’d once commanded the adoring attention of untold millions. He’d come only with the woman, his wife of 43 years, who introduced herself as Caitlin. And when Chloe heard “43 years,” the other parts of the strange equation reared their heads, not quite adding up.
Caitlin looked fifty at most, whereas Anthony looked like an energetic sixty. But Chloe had the records in her head and did the math. She hadn’t thought to investigate Caitlin Ross, but Anthony had been born in 1974. So he was 87, not 60.
“I wish I could say it was youthful living, plentiful exercise, and proper nutrition,” Anthony said when Chloe commented, their car ditched and all four now riding in his rattling truck. “Even good genes would be better than the truth.”
“What’s the truth?” Andrew asked.
“Nanobots. I didn’t get injections like so many of my peers, but there was a time before the fall when you couldn’t get food at high-end restaurants that di
dn’t have at least a few rejuvenation nanos in it. Caitlin and I both have a few — or had; who knows; maybe we’ve peed them out by now. I’d complain, but it’s hard to argue with the results. Although Caitlin still looks a thousand times better than my big, goofy ass.”
Caitlin, in the passenger seat, smiled and brushed his arm with her fingers: a playful reprimand that wasn’t really one at all.
“I don’t think it can all be nanos,” Andrew said. “You two look way too good to be the work of a few stray nanobots.”
A grim smile formed on Anthony’s lips. “They’re not mainstream nanos. The wealthy have always had things better than the masses and always will. Have you heard the term ‘Beau Monde’?”
Andrew shook his head.
Anthony shook his head. “You will. There will be an ultra-rich and an ultra-poor. A class of pure merit, and a class of pure grit. Digital and analog, ones and zeroes. Soon, there will be no middle.”
“Anyway,” Andrew said, trying to keep things lighter. “I’ll have some of what you’re having. I can’t imagine how great you’d look if you’d taken the injections.”
“You don’t have to imagine,” Ross said. “Alexa took them and she’s almost as old as me. If rejuvenation nanos had been around a little earlier, she’d look even younger. They can only repair so much damage and keep you young once you’ve lived for a while. But people born today with access?”
He didn’t finish the thought, but Chloe understood fine: In the future, those who could afford the best might never age past an apparent 25. Already she’d seen another example of what life-extension could do: Caspian White had looked even younger than Alexa.
“Too bad I never had access,” Andrew said.
Anthony laughed. “Caitlin?”
Caitlin rummaged in a bag at her feet then emerged holding two black cylinders that looked very much like the one Parker had used to sedate Chloe outside her apartment.
“Access granted,” Caitlin said.
“I was kidding,” Andrew said.
“You may need them,” Anthony said, his eyes on the road. “I’ve always been good at imagining the future, and based on Alexa’s message, I don’t think the world is done needing Chloe Shaw, even if it means waiting quite a long time.” He said nothing for several seconds, then added an afterthought, clearly for levity: “I guess you’d better stick around to keep her company, Andrew.”
Andrew’s head was shaking. “She’s supposed to stay off-grid. There’s no way she’s—”
“They’re safe, Andrew,” Chloe said.
There was a question in his eyes, but the answer was in Chloe’s: I know because I can feel them. I know because there’s no network here to bind them to anything but us, and that means they’ll learn to be loyal. Like Brad.
“If you had those all along,” Chloe said, nodding to the twin vials of age-defying nanobots, “why didn’t the two of you use them?”
“Because he’s stubborn. And proud.” But Caitlin said it with a smile. After all, regardless of his decision, Caitlin hadn’t taken them either.
“Because ’til death do you part doesn’t mean anything unless you know that someday, you’ll die.”
Caitlin looked touched. She took his hand. “Not now, of course. Try to inject anything while Anthony’s behind the wheel, and you’ll end up stabbing yourself in the eye.”
Anthony glanced at his wife. “Mind me, woman.”
She slapped him again.
He put his arm on her leg.
And Chloe thought, 43 years, almost entirely spent in hiding.
Yes. Andrew and I will be just fine.
Anthony pulled into a tiny town about an hour later. The place looked two centuries old. Homes were nestled in the hills as if hiding from each other. There was a single strip of shops on what passed for the main road, but Chloe had looked at the map and knew it to be anything but main. People wanting to pass to the west would go south of this place, on one of the preserved interstates.
“This is Highpoint,” he said. “There are 193 people living here now that the Browns, who live up that way, had their second baby. You could call them hillbillies. I prefer to call them ‘conscious abstainers.’ They’re not Organa, but they’re not fans of the networks, either. I know them all, and they’ve kept my secret all this time. There are no signals up here — not even cellular. Hardly anyone ever leaves, even for vacations or emergencies, because we have a doctor and family stays close. I’ll introduce you by new names, as my cousins. They’ll welcome you; they love it when people leave the city and come up here to ‘the better life.’ Nobody will know your face, Chloe. It’s simply not in their culture to see, investigate, know, or remotely care about such things.”
“Does Alexa know you’re here?” Chloe asked.
“No. Our channel of communication isn’t simple, but I trust its anonymity. My home is another 45 minutes up into the hills. I suggest you find something similarly remote, just in case.”
Chloe and Andrew looked at each other. This was a big change that somehow felt right.
“We’ll get some food,” Anthony said. “I’ll introduce you to Mabel, who runs the diner. And to Telly, her cook. He also runs the local theater.”
Andrew perked up. “Theater?”
“I doubt you’d be interested,” Anthony said. “I sometimes like to take in a show, but Telly is my age and looks it. It’s a tiny place, just one screen. They only show classic films. Nothing for young people.” The truck moved down the high street, headed for a lit sign that simply read, CAFE. Then Anthony pointed. “There. That’s Telly’s.”
Chloe turned and saw an old-fashioned movie marquee, just like the run-down theaters had at their favorite bohemian haunts in DZ. Written across the marquee in hundred-year-old plastic letters were two words that announced the current feature.
“Holy shit,” Andrew said, reading the marquee with wide eyes, hands plastered flat against the truck’s side window. “I already love it here.”
“What’s Die Hard?” Chloe asked, reading past him.
“I’ll take you to see it. Tonight, unless Anthony has other plans. What do you think, Chloe? It’s been too long since we’ve been on a proper date.”
In the front seat, Caitlin was rolling her eyes while Anthony chuckled.
“But what’s the movie about?” Chloe asked.
“You’re going to love it,” Andrew told her. “It’s totally romantic.”
EPILOGUE
December 28, 2097 — Highpoint, Pennsylvania
Chloe walked into the kitchen to find a cake on the counter. She recognized the style; it was all icing rosettes and drop lines: signatures of Nan’s Bakery in town. And that raised questions of its own. Highpoint was nearly an hour from the house and she’d only just woken, with Andrew apparently still asleep in bed.
Did he get the cake yesterday or earlier and managed to hide it? Or had he risen impossibly early, run to town and back, then set it out before slipping back into bed?
And when had that happened? Because now that Chloe was closer, she could see that the sparkle wasn’t morning sunlight glinting off the lake. It was tiny little fires. The candles didn’t just appear lit from a distance; they were actually lit. He’d done it perfectly. Unless there were elves doing Andrew’s bidding, he’d timed things exactly without even waking her.
“Happy birthday, baby,” he said from behind.
His hands encircled her. She turned and kissed him firmly, then went to the cake. It looked like a bonfire, melting copious wax into the delicate frosting.
“How many candles are on here?” Chloe asked.
“Well, how old are you?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. Andrew didn’t have the patience to finish half the books he got from the Highpoint library, but he’d somehow had the patience to light 57 candles.
“You suck.”
“Bullshit,” Andrew said. “You look the same as the day I met you.”
Unlike most instances of that particular com
ment, it was true. But still, Chloe felt ancient. She wasn’t just nearing 60; she’d lived nearly two-thirds of her life outside the civilized world. In all the movies they liked to watch together, old people were always baffled by technology. If that had been true a hundred years ago for old people who’d at least grown old beside that technology, what would it be like for the two of them now?
“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” Andrew asked.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But you still suck.”
“You think I suck now,” Andrew said, “wait until you hit three digits. Not many hundred-year-olds have tight, lithe bodies like yours. I’m going to put so many candles on your cake.”
“Shows what you know. By now, all the old people probably look young. It’s like Logan’s Run out there.”
“Awww,” Andrew purred. “You remembered Logan’s Run!”
“You still suck.”
“You suck,” he replied.
“Whatever! I’ll suck you!” Chloe blurted.
Only once it was past her lips did she realize how stupid that comeback sounded, and only a second later did she realize the double-entendre.
Andrew wasn’t so slow, already gesturing at his crotch.
Chloe shoved him, but as stupid as it all was, she was already aroused. Her drive hadn’t dropped when she’d left O’s hypersexual environment. Quite the contrary; outside of the network, they’d found themselves more attuned rather than less. Andrew had likened it to a newly blind person finding his sense of hearing enhanced. He sometimes referred to it as his “penis sense,” mainly because it allowed him to joke that “my penis sense is tingling!”
What an asshole.
But, oh, how much she loved him.
Chloe left the kitchen. She was passing the front door on her way to the living room when she noticed something taped to the front door glass.
She opened the door and removed it.
The Future of Us (The Future of Sex Book 12) Page 7