I resist the urge to reach up under the sweater Mae gave me and scratch at the bandage on my shoulder. Gideon borrowed Mae’s first-aid kit, and with a little anesthetic spray, one quick slice, and a second spray of NuSkin, he got rid of LRI’s disabled tracker. The gash in my shoulder where he dug it out feels like it was never there. Better safe than sorry, he said, and he’s right.
I’m finding it harder to settle. This room, this woman—they’re so unlike what I’m used to that it’s a struggle to know exactly how to fit in. I’m at home in squalor and in riches—whether it’s the slums of Corinth or the swamps of Avon, or a penthouse apartment in the richest district of this sector, I’ve learned those worlds. I know how to navigate them. But this…this is just somebody’s mom, which is already unfamiliar to me, in a room that could be a set from one of those “average Joe” sitcom shows.
I nibble at my sandwich and let my eyes scan the room as Mae and Gideon chat, though my mind’s automatically parsing everything they say. If I seem to be focused on something else, they’ll feel a bit less like I’m listening in, and I can learn more about them. They’ve clearly known each other for years, and the length of that bond causes a little, aching ping of envy somewhere inside me. I don’t think they see each other in person all that often, judging by a comment of Mae’s about Gideon’s height, and his exclamations when she fetches a picture of her kids—Mattie and Liv, fraternal twins. But despite all this evidence of a long time apart, they pick up with an ease of conversation like they speak every day.
Maybe they do. I’m remembering the dozens of windows Gideon had open at any given time, many of which were text chats with usernames I didn’t recognize.
“Whoops, that’s the kids’ school,” Mae exclaims, straightening up and lifting a hand to the earpiece she wears. “I’m gonna go take this, you guys finish eating.”
That comment’s more for me than for Gideon, whose sandwich vanished entirely several minutes ago. As Mae ducks into the living room, Gideon tucks his feet under the crossbar of his stool and swivels back and forth, eyeing me askance. “You okay?”
I take a quick bite of my sandwich and then nod, indicating my mouth to point out I’m just following Mae’s orders. Gideon waits, though, and eventually I have to swallow and answer. “Just letting you guys catch up. She seems really nice.”
“She is,” Gideon replies with a grin. “I’ve known her since I was twelve, though she didn’t know then that was my age. Most people on the net still don’t. Nobody takes a teenager seriously.”
“True,” I reply, taking one more bite and then sliding the last quarter of my sandwich over toward him. “But that just makes my job easier. No one suspects I’m up to anything at all.”
Gideon takes my offering without question, and the gusto with which he finishes off my sandwich reminds me that all he had in his den were stim packs and protein gels. “Mae’s a predictive data specialist for one of the big drug companies, so she can work from home. Gives her all the opportunity and time she needs for side projects. And for her kids.”
I glance through the archway into the living room, where Mae’s still on the phone, her back to us. “She seems happy.”
“You sound surprised.”
I blink, refocusing on Gideon. “No, I just—” I hesitate, toying with the straw in my iced tea. “I suppose I tend to assume that everyone who does what we do has to give up this kind of life. We’re criminals. Most criminals don’t get to be happy.”
Gideon dismisses that idea with a flick of his fingers. “This stuff, it’s just what we do, not who we are. You’d still be you if you stopped conning people tomorrow.”
“And you’d be the same without all your screens and data ports?” I raise an eyebrow.
Gideon hesitates, but he’s saved from answering when Mae comes back into the room, flashing us each a bright smile.
“How about a movie?” she asks. “I’ve got HV Instant, so there’s about a million options to choose from.”
“Don’t you have to go pick up your kids?” I ask, glancing at the display on the wall as it flickers from showing info about the weather back to the time.
Mae’s eyes follow mine, then skitter away. “They’re going to a friend’s house after school. It’s fine. Maybe a rom com, you think?”
Gideon grimaces, sliding off his stool and turning to follow Mae back into the living room. “I’m outnumbered, aren’t I?” he complains.
I’ve seen maybe one romantic comedy since I came to Corinth—and I didn’t really like it—but I don’t particularly want to let on to either May or Gideon that I grew up in a swamp with no HV or hypernet access. So I trail after them, trying to ignore my sense of uneasiness.