Avery was gripped by a sudden, wild, wonderful idea. “What if we went there?”
Atlas looked at her. She forged on, the idea gaining momentum. “You just said it, they’re completely tech-dark. No one would ever find us. We could reinvent ourselves, start a new life.”
“Avery,” he said cautiously, but she didn’t care, she could see it now: the little house she and Atlas would live in, with a porch and a hammock for hot summer nights; and steps leading down to the beach, where they’d walk hand in hand as the sun set over the water. Except—
“Mom and Dad,” she said aloud, and the perfect image wavered a little.
“Exactly,” Atlas agreed. “You’d be sad to leave them.”
She nodded, her mind still racing over the plan—and realized that something about his wording had been odd. “We both would.”
He seemed reluctant to speak. “Except they aren’t my parents.”
“Of course they are!”
“Avery,” Atlas said levelly, “I wasn’t born to this life the way you were. I was seven when they brought me up here. I remember what it was like before, how it felt to be hungry and scared. To not know whether you could trust anyone.”
“Oh,” she breathed, her heart aching. Atlas had never shared any of those memories. Whenever she asked questions about his life before, he would just shut down completely. She’d eventually stopped trying.
Atlas reached for her hands and squeezed them tight, looking straight into her eyes. “This life was never mine to lose. It is yours, though. I want you to think very hard before you say you want to give it all up.”
Avery blinked back tears. But there wasn’t a question. She would do anything, give up anything, to be with Atlas.
“Maybe we can visit them someday,” she suggested. Atlas looked up, realizing the meaning of her words.
“You’re serious,” he said slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “You actually want to go.”
“Yes,” Avery whispered, then said it again, louder. “Yes, yes, yes!” She kissed Atlas over and over, knowing that this was the right decision, the beginning of the rest of her life.
Atlas pulled her into a hug and held her close. She stayed there for a while, her head tucked into his shoulder, relishing the feel of him. It was so glorious being able to touch him. She would never take it for granted, she promised herself.
“How soon can we go?” she asked when they finally pulled apart.
Atlas raised an eyebrow. “How soon do you want to go?”
“This week?”
He laughed, but didn’t seem shocked. “Okay. I think I can figure that out.”
“Tomorrow night let’s have a party,” Avery decided impulsively. The moment she said it she knew it was a fantastic idea. They would bring everyone here, and act like it was just a normal Saturday night, but secretly it would be their going-away party. Someday when she and Atlas lived together on the other side of the world, they would look back and laugh at the memory of this—a silly high school party where everyone else got too drunk; and they stole furtive glances at each other the whole time, wildly in love; and said silent farewells to all their friends.
“Really?” Atlas asked.
“Yes! We haven’t thrown a party here since before you left. It would be fun, hosting it together. Like our secret good-bye.” Avery wavered for a moment, realizing that she’d never see Eris again, or Leda. But she couldn’t think that way. She had to think about her and Atlas, and the fact that they were doing what had always seemed impossible. They were actually building a future together.
“Okay. You’ve convinced me.” Atlas smiled.
Avery pulled out her tablet and composed a post, then uploaded it to the feeds. “That’s perfect,” he said, viewing the message on his contacts as it went live. “You’re perfect.” He leaned in to kiss her, but Avery pulled back.
“No one is perfect, least of all me,” she countered, a little thrown by the statement. Atlas had always known not to say stuff like that to her. He was the one person she could count on not to.
“Sorry. I should have said that you’re perfect for me,” Atlas amended.
Satisfied, Avery scooted forward to kiss him. She was deeply content in a way she’d never felt before. “I’d go anywhere with you, you know,” she told him, and Atlas smiled.
“Good,” he said softly. “Let’s go everywhere. Together.”
And then the night really was over, and the holoscreen kept on playing its movie to an audience of none.
LEDA
LEDA STUMBLED FORWARD and fell to her knees behind the fountain, trying to keep out of sight of the restaurant. Though she wasn’t the one who should feel ashamed here. Eris and her father. She briefly considered going home, but she was too desperate and her hands were shaking and she couldn’t risk being caught by her mom. Her poor, clueless, cheated-on mom.
She fumbled with the bag Ross had given her. The drugs spilled out over the clover in front of her, her own little wellspring of fabricated happiness. Leda’s eyes were immediately drawn to the small black Spokes envelope. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, getting into someone else’s head—a screwed-up head, sure, but wasn’t her own screwed up anyway?
Leda ripped the top of the envelope and popped the bright yellow Spokes pill into her mouth, swallowing it dry.
There was a brief, uncomfortable moment as her mind instinctively tried to push back. This didn’t happen when the Spokes were made for you, of course, but there was always a minute of adjustment when you took someone else’s Spokes, as the needs of their consciousness forced themselves onto your brain. She held her breath, forcing her mind to quiet, and the Spokes slid smoothly over her awareness like a blanket.
Everything felt softer, more liquid. Time seemed to stretch like a rubber band. She blinked. Whoever these belonged to, it was clearly someone with anxiety—this was practically a relaxant. She could almost feel the other person, like a ghostly presence, as the drug began to make its way through her brain, searching for memories that weren’t there, trying to elicit whatever emotional responses the person had needed.
Leda stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her elbows, the rest of the drugs still scattered on the clover around her like brightly colored candy. The shadows were increasing, stretching longer over the fountain and across her legs. It wasn’t cold out anymore. Eris and her dad, Leda thought again, with a dark, strangled laugh. She closed her eyes. Shadows of memories, half-formed thoughts, crouched hidden in her mind. I know you, she wanted to say, but why? How strange, it felt like déjà-vu, like this was all a song she’d heard before. Colors and shapes danced across her vision.
She recognized this high.
She knew it suddenly and instinctively, with a deep animal certainty brought on by the drug, the way she knew that she needed air to breathe. She’d done this before, experienced this particular blend of chemicals and neurostimuli. These were Cord’s Spokes.
How strange, she wondered, digging her hands into the four-leaf clovers. She broke a nail. It hurt a little. Why were Cord’s Spokes with Ross? Cord wasn’t desperate for cash. These were probably stolen.
Cord should know! She needed to tell him!
Leda floated up to 969 like a balloon. “Cord!” She was banging on the door. Somehow she’d made it here, though she didn’t remember taking an elevator, or a hover. Thank god, she thought, because her hands were starting to detach from her body and she was getting worried. She tucked them into her armpits. “Cord!” she repeated, louder.
The door swung open—but it wasn’t Cord standing there; it was Brice.
“Leda? What’s up?” Cord’s older brother said slowly. He was dressed to go out, in dark-wash jeans and a collared shirt that had a lot of buttons undone. He looked so cool. She wished she could be more like him.