“I know just what you mean,” Mira said, in what she hoped was an intimate tone. As intimate as her graveyard voice could manage.
“That’s why I came to the bottom floor, to the women who died one hundred, one hundred and twenty-five years ago. I thought, why not a woman from a more innocent time? She would probably be more appreciative. The woman at the orientation told me that choosing a bridesicle instead of a live woman was a generous thing to do — you were giving a life to someone who’d been cheated out of hers. I don’t kid myself, though — I’m not doing this out of some nobility, but it’s nice to think I’m doing something good for someone, and the girls at the bottom need it more than the girls at the top. You’ve been in line longer.”
Mira had been in line a long time. It didn’t seem that way, though. It had only been, what, about an hour of life since she died? It was difficult to gauge, because she didn’t remember dying. Mira tried to think back. Had her car accident been in the city, or on a highway? Had she been at fault? Nothing came, except memories of what must have been the weeks leading up to it, of her mother driving her crazy.
Once she took in her mother, she could never love again. How could she make love to someone with her mother watching? Even a man would have been out of the question, although a man was out of the question in any case.
“It’s awkward, though,” Lycan was saying. “There aren’t any nice ways to tell someone that you aren’t interested. I’m not in practice rejecting women. I’m much more familiar with the other end of the equation. If you weren’t in that drawer, you probably wouldn’t give me a second glance.”
Mira could see that he was fishing, that he wanted her to tell him he was wrong, that she would give him a second glance. It was difficult — it wasn’t in her nature to pretend that she felt something she didn’t. But she didn’t have the luxury of honoring her nature.
“Of course I would. You’re a wonderful man, and good looking.”
Lycan beamed. What is it about us, Mira wondered, that we will believe any lie, no matter how outrageous, if it’s flattering?
“Some people just spark something in you, make you breathe fast, you know?” Lycan said. “Others don’t. It’s hard to say why, but in those first seconds of seeing someone,” he snapped his fingers, “you can always tell.” He held her gaze for a moment, something that was clearly uncomfortable for him, then looked at his lap, blushing.
“I know what you mean,” Mira said. She tried to smile warmly, knowingly. It made her feel like shit.
There was constant murmur of background chatter this time.
…through life and revival, to have and to hold…
“What is that I’m hearing? Is that a marriage ceremony?” Mira asked.
Lycan glanced over his shoulder, nodded. “They happen all the time here. It’s kind of risky to revive someone otherwise.”
“Of course,” Mira said. She’d been here for decades, yet she knew nothing about this place.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” Lycan said. It was their sixth or seventh date. Mira had grown fond of Lycan, which was a good thing, because the only thing she ever saw was Lycan’s doughy jowls, the little bump of chin poking out of them. He was her life, such as it was.
“What is it?” Mira asked.
He looked off into the room, sighed heavily. “I’ve never enjoyed a woman’s company as much as yours. I have to be honest with you, but I’m afraid if I am I’ll lose you.”
Mira tried to imagine what this man could possibly say that would lead her to choose being dead over his company. “I’m sure that won’t happen, whatever it is. You can trust me.”
Lycan put his hand over his eyes. His chest hitched. Mira made gentle shushing sounds, the sort of sounds her mother had never made, not even when Jeanette died.
“It’s okay,” she cooed. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
Lycan finally looked at her, his eyes red. “I really like you, Mira. I think I even love you. But I’m not a rich man. I can’t afford to revive you, and I never will. Not even if I sold everything I owned.”
She hadn’t even realized how much hope she was harboring until it was dashed. “Well, that’s not your fault, I guess.” She tried to sound chipper, though inside she felt black despair.
Lycan nodded. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”
Mira didn’t have to ask why he came here pretending to be looking for a wife if he couldn’t afford to revive anyone. The women here must all be kind to him, must hang on his every word in the hope that he’d choose them and free them from their long sleep. Where else would a man like Lycan get that sort of attention?
“Can you forgive me?” Lycan asked, looking like a scolded bulldog. “Can I still visit you?”
“Of course. I’d miss you terribly if you didn’t.” The truth was, if Lycan didn’t visit Mira would be incapable of missing anyone. No one else was visiting, or likely to stumble upon her among the army of bridesicles lined shoulder-to-shoulder in boxes in this endless mausoleum.
That was the end of it. Lycan changed the subject, struck up a conversation about his collection of vintage gaming code, and Mira listened, and made “mm-hm” sounds in the pauses, and thought her private thoughts.
She found herself thinking about her mom more than Jeanette. Perhaps it was because she’d already learned to accept that Jeanette was gone, and mom’s death was still fresh, despite being not nearly as heartbreaking. After Jeanette died, Mira had worked through her death until there were no new thoughts she could possibly think. And then she had finally been able to let Jeanette rest….
She had the most astonishing thought. She couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to her until now. Mira had worked for Capital Lifekey, just like Jeanette. Preservation had been part of Jeanette’s benefits package, just like Mira’s.
“Lycan, would you do something for me?” It felt as if an eternity rode on the question she was about to ask.
“Sure. Anything.”
“Would you run a search on a friend of mine who died?”
“What’s her name?”
“Jeanette Zierk. Born twenty-two twenty-four.”
Mira was not as anxious as she thought she should be as Lycan checked, probably because her heart could not race, and her palms could not sweat. It was surprising how much emotion was housed in the body instead of the mind.
Lycan checked. “Yes. She’s here.”
“She’s here? In this place?”
“Yes.” He consulted the readout, pulling his palm close to his nose, then he pointed across the massive atrium, lower down than they were. “Over there. I don’t know why you’re surprised, if she was stored she’d be here — it’s a felony to renege on a storage contract.”
Mira wished she could lift her head and look where he was pointing. She had spent the last few years of her life accepting that Jeanette was really gone, and would never come back. “Can you wake her, and give her a message from me? Please?”
Lycan was rendered momentarily speechless.
“Please?” Mira said. “It would mean so much to me.”
“Okay. I guess. Sure. Hold on.” Lycan stood tenuously, looked confused for a moment, and then headed off.
He returned a moment later. “What message should I give her?”
Mira wanted to ask Lycan to tell Jeanette she loved her, but that might be a bad idea. “Just tell her I’m here. Thank you so much.”