Her social life revolved so heavily around Nathan. Why did she have so few friends? It was a question she obsessed over, but there on the bridge, with the water lapping far below, she felt an uncommon clarity. It wasn’t because she was abrasive, or because she was an outsider. She used to have friends, other outsiders who hung out at coffee shops until late into the night, trading witty barbs. Without realizing it she’d shed some of those friends when she met Sander, even more when Sander left her for Jilly. The truth was, she hadn’t tried to make friends since Sander left her for her sister. She hung out with Nathan, played with her interactives, worked. She was alone because she’d chosen to be alone.
A pedestrian stopped at the apex of the bridge, enjoyed the view for a moment, then continued across. Veronika was ready, though. Eventually someone would come to jump, and she would be there, a light against the darkness of their despair. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to convince all of them, but if three people jumped per week on average and she could stop one, she’d be saving a life a week.
13
Rob
When the worst of the disorientation cleared, Winter smiled. “I thought I’d totally blown it with you, and here you’re back. You must like your women anxious and needy.”
Rob tried to laugh, but only managed something that sounded more like a dry cough. He was so nervous, the muscles in his face felt tight, and his lip was twitching.
“I wish I was here for a date. I really do.” His voice was a harsh whisper.
Winter studied his face, her smile fading. “What do you mean?”
Rob stared at the floor, trying to muster his courage. He couldn’t blow it this time. He’d worked his fingers to the bone, double shifts for three months, for this opportunity. He had to tell her, right now.
“I’m here to talk to you about your accident. That’s why I came the first time, but time got away from me. I lost my nerve, I guess.”
“I don’t understand. Did you see my accident?”
He forced himself to look at her. It was by far the hardest thing he’d ever done. “Miss West, I’m the one who hit you.”
It didn’t seem to register. A few precious seconds ticked by. Then confusion spread across Winter’s face. The lines of confusion melted away, and she stared at Rob with a startled lucidity that made her look almost alive.
“You’re the one who killed me?”
He’d looked away again, was staring at his hands. He forced his gaze back to her face. “Yes. I came to tell you how sorry I am.” The words sounded absurd leaving his lips, like so many puffs of air sent out to heal a broken spine, a burst aorta, a mile of crushed intestine.
Winter sounded like she was choking, then Rob realized it was a laugh. “You’re sorry.”
“I know it’s worthless, but it’s all I have to offer you.”
“Were you drunk?”
He looked at the timer. Three minutes left. Three more minutes of this to endure, then he could go back to bed and die there. “I’d been drinking, but I wasn’t drunk. I was under the legal limit.”
“So you were only slightly impaired. I guess that should make me feel better?”
“No. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m not trying to make excuses. Yes, I’d been drinking, and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and I fucking hate myself.”
She stared at him, her eyes bright and wet. He didn’t think the dead could actually cry. “I don’t know what to say to you. You have no idea what a nightmare this is. You get to leave. I have to stay. Maybe no one will ever wake me again, and I’ll stay in this box, in this wall, dead…” She made a sound in her throat that made Rob want to clap his hands over his ears.
“I’m so sorry. If there was anything I could do, I would. I would gladly change places with you.” He glanced at the timer. “Oh, God, I only have one minute.”
Her eyes opened wide, like a wild animal caught in a trap. “Please. I don’t want to go back in there. Let me stay alive for a few more minutes. Just a few.”
The dread in her voice, the pleading tone, bored a hole right through him. He sobbed, put his hands over his face. “I can’t. I don’t have any more money.”
Winter made that terrible sound again. “Please. Please don’t—” Her eyes widened farther, and all at once she went silent. For a moment Rob thought the refreezing process had started, but there were nineteen seconds left.
She looked at him. “You said you’d do anything. Did you mean it?”
“Yes.”
“Then promise me you’ll come back. Promise you’ll visit me from time to time, so I know I won’t spend forever dead in this drawer.”
“I will,” he said immediately. Her words were like a lifeline. He could do this, at least. “I promise. I swear.” The relief he felt was like a vise loosened from around his soul. “I will.”
The timer reached 5:00; the light drained from Winter’s eyes as if they were connected to a power source. Her pupils dilated as the glass cover slid silently over the top of her crèche. Rob turned away. Behind him, he heard her crèche retracting into the wall.
He’d noticed very little on his last visit, cocooned in his own fear and depression, but now he walked a little easier. Not easy, but easier, his boots clicking on the heavy marble floor as he passed row upon row of bridesicles in the long room, their crèches nothing but rectangles set into the walls in floor-to-ceiling grids. He passed what looked like a family sitting around a crèche. The cloak was drawn up so tightly around the woman inside that she seemed nothing but a disembodied head.
There was a smell in the air, something vaguely familiar that would have been pleasant if he’d felt more relaxed. Just a hint of it on a slight artificial breeze. Toasted coconut, maybe? It reminded Rob of some of the swankier restaurants Lorelei had taken him to, where scents were piped in like an olfactory concert.
His dad had been right: look Winter in the eye, own up to what he’d done, do what he could to make it right. He’d do whatever it took to keep his promise. Keep working long hours, spend nothing.
Down an open lift, he reached the vast main room of the facility, the only room that wasn’t long and narrow. There was a supplement bar and dine-in restaurant tucked into one corner, and in the center a breathtaking multilevel fountain resembling a vertical maze.
He passed a screen hovering over an open crèche—a virtual date, no doubt—and caught a snippet of conversation as he passed.
“I’ve done a lot of good for this community—”
He’d have to abandon his dream of making it as a musician. Performing in Low Town bars didn’t pay enough to make it worthwhile. The thought of giving up his music hurt almost as much as the idea of giving up his system. Not having his system the past few months had been like not having his right hand. No, worse; he’d rather lose his right hand than his system. Maybe he could allow himself that one indulgence.
He stopped walking.
No. He wasn’t going to start making compromises on this promise. Full effort. No bullshit. He wanted his father to be able to look him in the eye and feel proud, or at least not feel ashamed. If he lived at home and gave up his system, he could visit maybe three times a year. And he would; he would keep his promise, no matter what.
Rob sent a message to his manager at the reclamation center to see if he could pick up some extra shifts.
14
Veronika
Veronika turned her face toward the sun, enjoying the heat on her cheeks, trying not to think of the wrinkles her older self would have to endure. Ultralight copters flitted less than a hundred feet above, looking so much like giant, brightly colored dragonflies. It was worth the substantial toll she and Nathan were paying to lounge on such a high, isolated platform. It was rejuvenating, to be so far from the dense crowds of the city. Almost like a spiritual retreat.