“Callie,” Atlas said as he pushed his way toward her, and Calliope let out a strange sigh of relief. She would finish the message later. “A few of my friends are here. I’d love for you to meet them.” He nodded toward the entry hall, which was becoming even more packed, filled with teenagers and adults in their perfectly creased tuxes and elegant black or white gowns.
Calliope had always loved moments like this; glamorous and expensive, money softening the edges of it all. But looking at all the people gathered at the Fullers’, she felt strangely bereft. These weren’t her friends, this wasn’t her laughter and gossip, and this certainly wasn’t her boyfriend standing next to her. She was just borrowing the whole scene the way she was borrowing the pink diamond earrings.
And this time, she knew, the eventual moment of reckoning was going to hurt.
“Of course,” she said to Atlas with a forced smile. “Lead the way.” She gave her head a little toss as she followed him, feeling the heavy weight of the earrings that she no longer wanted to steal.
She would let herself indulge this fantasy—would pretend that she was a normal girl, at a party with a cute boy in a tux—for just a little bit longer.
WATT
WATT STUDIED THE party, which swirled and flowed wildly around him, with unabashed astonishment.
A black-and-white parquet dance floor sprawled on each side of the canal, reminding Watt of a shining chessboard. A hundred languages fell discordantly on his ears, too many people speaking at once for Nadia to even bother translating. Above him soared the two massive towers of The Mirrors, rising up into the darkness to new dazzling heights.
For the first time, Watt felt like he finally understood the name; this was like a dream city, full of mirrors and reflections. Every last detail on one of the towers—every archway, every glittering square of glass, every curve in the railing of a balcony—had been cunningly doubled on the other side, in alabaster carbonite or smooth dark nyostone. Even the movements of the serving staff seemed choreographed to echo one another across the expanse of the canal.
Everywhere Watt looked were women in black or white gowns, men in designer tuxes. There wasn’t a single stitch of color in the whole evening, not even the bright red of a cherry at the bar. The effect was striking, like a work of art—as if Watt had stepped into one of those old two-dimensional holos where everything was rendered in shades of gray.
Nadia, what do you think Cynthia meant by all that, earlier? He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way she’d asked him to stay—and kissed him. What would he do when he saw her again? He felt a feverish anxiety at the thought, guilt and confusion roiling through him all at once.
“You know what it meant, Watt,” Nadia replied, whispering the words into his eartennas.
Watt was startled into alertness. Nadia sounded accusatory. Did I do something wrong?
“All I know is that the situation has changed, and that it’s becoming increasingly difficult for me to anticipate the outcome.”
Girls are always complicated, he thought, a bit resentfully.
“People aren’t like tech, Watt. They aren’t predictable, and they malfunction far more readily.”
That’s for damn sure.
Cynthia had told him that actions spoke louder than words, but what did that mean when Watt’s actions were reactive instead of proactive? He hadn’t felt in control for a very long time, and he wondered, suddenly, if it was his own fault.
He’d met Leda at the airport earlier, fully prepared to find her angry and scheming—they were flying over on Avery’s family’s plane, and Watt assumed that would make her tense. But Leda had been so relaxed, she didn’t even comment on his lateness. She just turned to Watt when he arrived and told him it was a five-hour flight, and what movie did he want to watch together? When her hand kept brushing his on the armrest, Watt hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t moved his hand either.
They’d barely seen Avery, or anyone else, the entire flight, but Watt had found that he didn’t really care.
Nadia, he decided to ask, do you think Leda trusts me yet?
“It’s hard for me to estimate emotional states, except for yours,” Nadia replied. “Anything I said about Leda’s feelings would be pure speculation. It’s easier for me to track your state of mind, since I have years of data on you. Which is how I know, for instance, that you like Leda.”
It was the last thing he’d expected her to say.
No I don’t! Leda had drugged him and manipulated him and blackmailed him, and just because she’d made him laugh a few times—just because she was fun to kiss—didn’t mean that Watt liked her.
“Evidence points to the contrary. When you’re with her, you exhibit all the typical physical signs of attraction: your heart rate speeds up, your voice deepens, and then, of course, there’s—”
That doesn’t count, he thought furiously, interrupting. Pinwheels of sparks flew from an enormous fire sculpture out into the night. Like you said, it’s just data, and besides, physical attraction has nothing to do with liking.
“You’ve mimicked her motions and gestures. Your blood rushes to the surface when you’re near her, which, in over half of studies, has been linked to formation of emotional bonds,” Nadia continued relentlessly, “and you keep asking me about her, which—”
You don’t get it, okay? he snapped. How can you understand something you don’t even feel?
Nadia fell silent at that.
“Watt!” Leda appeared at his side, looking stunning in a white Grecian-style gown. “I’ve been looking for you. Calliope is here.”
Watt’s eyes flicked in the direction Leda was pointing. Atlas stood there with the girl from the photos. She looked lean and tan and ruthless; her dark hair spilling over her golden shoulders, her black dress skimming lightly over her form. And it all clicked ruthlessly into place.
“Are you spying on Calliope because she’s with Atlas?” Watt asked slowly. Was this Atlas and Avery all over again? Was Watt just the filler, the time killer—a meaningless distraction, while Leda tried all the while to get the guy she actually wanted?
“Yes, of course,” she said impatiently.
Watt was stunned at how angry he felt. Well, Leda hadn’t meant anything to him either, he reminded himself.
“It’s killing Avery,” Leda went on, and there was a strange note in her voice—a fierce protectiveness, folded in with concern for Avery—that silenced the high-pitched buzzing in Watt’s brain.
“Hold on,” he said slowly. “Let me get this straight. You’re spying on Calliope because she’s with Atlas, because you want Atlas to be with Avery?”
Leda flinched. “I know it all must seem weird to you, but I can’t bear to see Avery hurt. Besides, if this Calliope girl really is hiding something big, then Atlas has a right to the truth.”
Watt still didn’t understand. “I thought you and Avery weren’t speaking.” He felt like an ass, inserting himself into girl drama. But he needed to know.
Leda made an impatient, dismissive gesture. “That’s old news, we’re fine now.” She grinned. “Nadia isn’t on her A game, if you didn’t already know that.”