“The president,” said Kathy Fang, raising her coffee, and they all clinked mugs, toasting the president.
Conner, in the drone, thrust its manipulator’s thumb-equivalents up in support, and she heard Ash’s voice join in as well.
110
The Sandwiches (II)
Netherton had taken Thomas to Victoria Embankment that morning, to watch the Thames chimeras perform in their yuletide livery. The Trefoils, now decorated with Christmas trees, had been brought in very close to shore for the event, and had seemed to delight Thomas more than the synchronized antics of the chimeras.
He’d then taken him home, before joining Lowbeer in Marylebone for the sandwiches, their first visit to the place since she’d originally told him about Verity’s stub. Verity was friends now with Rainey, as indeed she was with Flynne, taking them both on tourist expeditions in her stub, via the awkward 2017 equivalent of Wheelie Boys. They’d particularly enjoyed Notre Dame, which had happened not to suffer a fire, in Verity’s 2019. They’d found Verity her own peri, for visiting London, which Lowbeer had purchased for her. That had only been confusing for a few moments, so thoroughly familiar was Flynne in hers.
Lev, meanwhile, was back with Dominika in Notting Hill, things evidently going smoothly. Anton, apparently, was still away in search of a cure for his addiction, with brother Radomir having taken over operation of the family’s businesses. Lev was now happy enough to privately detest Radomir’s taste in art, which Netherton gathered was exacerbated by Radomir’s degree in art history. Tedious as he found this, Netherton welcomed it as evidence of his friend’s return to emotional health.
He was having the gammon today, Lowbeer the ox tongue.
“Verity’s given me the impression,” Netherton said, their sandwiches not yet having arrived, “that Eunice becoming universally accessible was your idea.”
“It emerged from conversation,” Lowbeer said, “but I doubt it would have occurred to me to implement it with quite so stunning a degree of simplicity.”
“Are you happy with it?” he asked.
“The thing I found immediately in its favor, of course, was that nothing remotely like it would be allowed here. It’s a radical experiment, but performed in good faith. Since Eunice’s position, let alone her nature, has no equivalent in any history we know of, we’ll simply have to wait and see. How are Rainey and Thomas?”
“Very well,” said Netherton, as their sandwiches arrived. “She’s been promoted at her firm, and he’s just now taking his first steps.”
“Have you seen Ash lately?”
“We met her new partner,” Netherton said, “who Verity insists on calling a ‘woke’ peripheral. He’s entirely autonomous, not to mention very witty. And has his own assembler-swarm, which Ash claims makes him literally polymorphous perverse.” He wrinkled his nose.
“Whatever makes her happy,” Lowbeer said, “in these times of ours.”
Thanks
Early readers of various stages of the manuscript included Diane Ademu-John, Sean Crawford, James Gleick, V. Harnell, Louis Lapprend, Felicia Martinez, Paul McCauley, Jack Womack, and Meredith Yayanos, all of whom provided crucial assistance and support, of wonderfully varied sorts. I’m very fortunate, and grateful, to know you all.
Eliot Peper very kindly responded to a last-minute request for some very particular San Francisco microgeography.
My wife, Deborah, of course, earliest and most regular of early readers, once again endured seemingly endless iterations of the first hundred pages or so, which is A Thing That Happens, in this case more so than usually.
Susan Allison, editor of the majority of my US editions since Neuromancer, was my editor when I signed the contract for the book which became this one, but had retired by the time this one was finally turned in, her editorial duties having been taken over by Jessica Wade, who then herself did a terrific job.
Ivan Held, my publisher, was supportive and patient through an unusually long wait, and I am very grateful to him, as ever.
—July 9, 2019