Asimov's Science Fiction: March 2014 (4 page)

A few minutes later they were at Marlow's, its chromed exterior a simple set of lines, lit by two corner globes. The complete opposite of the first place. Once she'd parked and they'd ambled over, a bouncer shook them down a little and ushered them in. Melissa ordered them a cocktail.

"Seriously, beer's just fine," he told her.

"You'll like this." She carried the green and blue glasses across to a quiet, dim booth. A two-piece jazz band played slow ballads from the corner, a woman striking the drums with the pace of a snail, while the man upright with a five-string bass crooned at the microphone.

"This is feeling like a date," Den told Melissa as he slipped in beside her.

She shrugged. "If you like."

"Haven't we covered all that ground already?"

"Some, I guess." She sipped from her drink. "Try."

Den smiled. He raised the glass and could taste the beverage before it even touched his lips. He sipped and the fruity, acidic liquid spread around his mouth as if it had its own plans. He set the glass back down. The taste continued to expand through his mouth. "Strong stuff," he said.

Melissa nodded. "It's for sipping, really."

Den looked around the bar. Lots of patrons. Businesspeople, mostly, a few in open collars like himself, but mostly people who'd come right from the office.

"Don't you want to know what's rekindled my interest?" Melissa said.

"You're assuming that
I'm
still interested. I think I've moved on."

"Sure you have." She grinned at him.

He hadn't moved on. The smiles, the looks, it was all getting to him. Making him want her again. She was probably just leading him along, though, excited by his interest. He could see that kind of thing in her. He smiled himself. It would be all right to fool around, have some fun, he thought, but he wasn't going to bring his emotions into it this time. Treat her as someone who'd already promised to leave. Like a summer affair at Key West or Laguna. Enjoy it in the moment.

That put him in a better frame of mind.

"So," he said. "What's your plan for the rest of tonight?"

Melissa smiled and sipped from her drink again.

In the morning sun, he showered and found himself something to eat in her breakfast nook. While he ate, looking out across Pomona condos from her balcony, he heard her showering. For a moment he considered joining her, but the water shut off before he could make a move. He remembered, then, that she took quick washes. Efficient. In a way it joined up with the old Prius; concern about wastage. Except that she wasn't, she just didn't like to linger, felt there were better things to waste her time on than watching her skin prune up. It wasn't her car, he remembered.

"Hi," she said, walking through in a robe and drying her hair with a towel. "You found eats?"

He motioned with the bowl. "Honey Trinkets."

She smiled and looked back at the shelf where the muesli box still stood. "Is there even a cereal called Honey Trinkets?"

"If there isn't, there should be."

She laughed and dropped the towel to her side. "A business opportunity." She came out onto the balcony with him. "This is good. The air's clean, the sun's shining." She put her arms around him and hugged.

He could feel her lack of underwear though the robe, and liked it. He held the bowl and spoon out and tried to hug her back. She purred a little.

"I'm glad," she said. "It's kind of like we laid the groundwork all that while ago and finally you're ready."

"I'm ready? What's that mean? You're the one who broke it off. Both times."

"Because you weren't ready. You were emotionally lame." She let go and pulled away. "If you'll excuse the expression. Not meant as an insult."

Den puffed air through slitted lips. "Really? Because, gosh, you know, I wasn't thinking of it that way, but probably good of you to clarify it."

"You know what I mean."

"Really—no."

Melissa nodded, her face becoming serious. "You were younger. Reserved. And distant. In control. You didn't give yourself over to it."

Den took another spoonful of the muesli. He chewed it down a bit, then said, "And you think I might be now? After one night?"

"Oh, I know it. You're not the man I dated six months ago."

"Excuse me? He's standing right here. It's me."

She smiled just a fraction. "Your sister. What you're doing for her. Even though she's—excuse me again—she's a complete mess."

"A wreck?"

"Just this side of it. She could have gone downhill very fast."

"She still could."

"No," Melissa said. She moved toward the cereal boxes. "The leg will block the opioids. I didn't tell you last night."

Den shook his head. "I wish."

"It will. As soon as I saw her details, I altered the build. I added in one of the corrective organ systems. In the bone." Melissa poured out a bowlful of the honey cereal, the crisp little pieces making a glassy tinkling sound. "Still experimental, but figured it was the least I could do."

"The least?" Den thumped his bowl down on the terrace table. "It could kill her.

Who knows what it will do in her leg? That's experimental. She hasn't—"

"Slow down."

"You don't know what you've done."

Melissa squinted at him. "Listen, buster. You're the one sneaking around, breaking the rules. Dragging me into it. Well, this way I'm covered. Her record now states
experimental recipient.
I'll keep my job." Melissa took a mouthful of cereal. "So will you."

"You didn't think to ask? You didn't even think to
tell
me last night?"

Melissa hung her head, staring at the bowl. "I wanted to," she said in a whisper. "I couldn't find the nerve. We were having such a nice time."

Den nodded. She was right. "Hey," he said, walking over to her. "We did have a nice time. I just wish you'd told me."

She looked up at him and managed a smile. "Yeah, sorry."

"It's okay. I guess this way, everybody wins." He looked around. "Let's finish breakfast." He went back out to the balcony looking out at the other buildings. Down below a dog raced along the alley, tongue lolling. Den had some more cereal. Melissa was right. Jenni was a wreck, only just living. She had kept things together simply by medicating herself.

"But now," he said as much to himself as to Melissa. "Now that's behind her. She has no choice. It's eliminated her response to the opiate."

"We hope."

"Did you see her face when she came up? She knew that it was gone. She felt it."

He should have known right then. It was obvious now why she'd beaten up on him.

Melissa agreed. "Are we going back?"

"Now, you mean? Sure."

"I'll get dressed."

In fifteen minutes they were on the road, heading to the lab. Melissa, Den noticed, really knew how to read the traffic. She skipped out of fast lanes and into slow, and moments later the slow lane picked up speed while the lane they'd exited rippled down to a near standstill.

"I know," she said when he mentioned it. "Someone told me once that half the reason lanes slow down is people shifting unnecessarily. That might be true, but I like to feel that I'm doing something."

"I get it."

Melissa swung off the freeway into a strip mall and parked outside Radio Shack.

"You're getting her a deck, right?"

"I mentioned that?"

"She did. Don't scrimp. Get her the best they've got."

Den nodded. He went inside and found an Akai, a generation up from his own.

Back in the car, Melissa approved. She pulled out for the freeway.

"Are you going to come back?" she said, coming up to traffic speed. "Or was this just a fleeting visit?"

Den hesitated. He felt like he was on the verge of something here. Getting back with Melissa. That was something he hadn't expected or planned. It felt better this time, too. Now that he'd done what he'd done for Jenni, he was feeling more even. It was like the proverbial weight from his shoulders. Ever since he'd realized what he might be able to do for her it had burned at him.

And now it was done.

"Did you hear me?" Melissa said. She changed lanes again. "I mean, I understand if you're going."

"I think I can stay. Come back. But I need to go visit with Dad for a week or two.

With Jenni. See how that goes."

"You think she'll do that?"

Den nodded. "Definitely. I think she's glimpsed something else. Seen opportunity.

Seeing Dad is another step." He saw the mile and a quarter warning sign for their exit.

"For you, too, I think," Melissa said. She looked at him, a half-smile on her lips.

"Then maybe you'll come back."

Den didn't reply. It did sound like a good idea to him, but he still needed to get through the next stage.

Melissa swung them through the lanes and scooted down the exit ramp. A few minutes later they parked in the ChaistonLabs lot.

There was another patient in Jenni's room.

"Guess they moved her," Melissa said.

But Den knew that wasn't it. "Let's find out."

The desk clerk pulled up the records. Jenni had checked herself out.

"Maybe she went to Wyoming?" Melissa said.

Den sighed. "Such a bright outlook." He had a feeling where she'd gone. She wouldn't have caught a flight to Green River.

"Feel like taking a drive?" he said to Melissa.

It took them three hours to drive to Ridgecrest. Den reflected that it would have been marginally faster by air, considering, but driving helped to clear his head.

It wasn't what Jenni wanted. He knew that now. They hadn't had any kind of relationship before, but the chances of anything now were nil.

Melissa tried to reassure him.

"Maybe at least call your dad," she'd suggested several times on the trip.

"After, maybe," he'd replied. "I need to see."

He pulled up outside her duplex. The yards along the street were mostly filled with dry grass and faded cheap playground equipment. He half-expected Melissa to say something, but she didn't. He liked that. She'd been conversational on the way up, and he needed that, but now he needed quiet.

"Guess I'd better go in," he said after a few minutes.

"I guess."

It took him another minute, but he popped the door open and went around the car.

A dog barked at him from a neighboring yard, and someone in the house yelled at it.

Den went up Jenni's front walk and knocked on the door. No one answered. He knocked again, waited, then tried the handle. The door opened.

"Jenni?" Den stepped inside. The curtains were drawn, the lights out. He could hear water running in the sink, and smell pancakes and blueberries. Someone had been cooking. Recently. In the last hour or so. "Jenni?"

He shut off the water and went to look in the bedroom. No one. The bathroom was empty too.

"Jenni?"

Perhaps she wasn't here at all. Perhaps one of her lowlife friends had come in and cooked and left the water on. He went back to the front door and cast his eye around the room again. There was someone sitting in the shadows on the armchair.

"Jenni? Is that you?"

He went over and found her. His sister. Almost unconscious.

"Oh," she said, barely a word, more an exhalation. Her eyes were slits.

"What did you do?" he said.

She just smiled back at him.

"Jenni?" He wanted to shake her. He felt dumbfounded. Flummoxed. She'd run away and come right back here and shot up. She shouldn't have even been able to. As Melissa had said, the leg's architecture should have blocked the cycle. The receptors should have all been blocked.

She sat up just a fraction. "Den." He voice was quiet, husky.

"Oh, Jenni. I tried so hard." He crouched to her, putting his hand on hers on the chair's arm.

"Listen to me. You've done it all wrong. You think you can just arrive, drag me off, and that will change everything?" She swung her new leg forward. "This is weird."

"I didn't expect..." Den trailed off. He
had
expected, he realized. A naïve kind of knight on a steed, both in that shining armor. "You told me to begin with that you didn't need rescuing."

She huffed. "I came back to try a couple of things. Whatever this leg has done, I can't get high. Which is kind of crappy, though my skin's not crawling the way it used to."

"You tried?"

"Of course I tried. That's a whole part of it, which the leg, or whatever else you've done, can't change. You know that most addicts relapse after rehab and it's simply because they go back into the same environment." She waved her hand, indicating the apartment. The blue cat sat on the table.

Den didn't say anything.

He took the Akai deck and removed the packaging. He put it on her lap and plucked the piano icon. It spread out. Jenni tinkled a few notes and dropped her hand. "Thanks."

"I wanted to do something good for you," he said. "I know we don't know each other at all, but you lost your leg. And I could give you a new one."

"Steal me a new one, you mean."

Den hesitated. He had twisted the rules all out of shape. If someone did a little extra checking the chances were he would lose his job. And lose his place in the whole prosthetics and artificial limb industry. He'd be lucky to find something sweeping labs. "Yes," he said. "I stole it."

"You're sweet," she said. "I wish I could understand what it was all about."

Den swallowed. He could see that her pupils were dilated, but that was probably just from the low light. Although if the drug was in her system there might still be some physiological symptoms.

"Guilt?" he said.

Jenni pursed her lips and nodded.

"Your mother," he said. "Your... life. I had it so lucky." He stood. "I guess I really should apologize."

"You should. You've barged in here and changed everything, simply from some misplaced sense of guilt. I was doing okay. You think I don't suffer from guilt too? How could it be that she died and I didn't? I wished I could have saved her. How stupid is that?" Jenni stood now, holding the deck. "I was a kid, a little kid. And I've spent my whole life wishing that I could have been the one who went under the car."