39
The sun was in the midday position on the clearest day to grace the city in recent memory. Blake was walking the streets, which were heavy with pedestrian footfalls, for all his life trying not to look like a puppy following at the heels of its master. He had learned so many things today, watching her as if she represented the birth of some completely new species—long foretold in the imagination of the human race but no less frightening for that fact. He found himself supremely grateful that she, unlike so many new paradigms, had not abandoned what had helped her to be.
Rosie whirled around on him in mock annoyance, hands stalwart on thin hips.
Are you just going to stay behind me this whole time? Maybe I should walk backwards so I can see you.”
She put out her hand to him as he double-stepped up to her and took it. A little cold and clammy for such a pleasant day. Did he make her nervous like she did him? He hoped so, especially since she was making him feel like a virginal school kid. Plan as you might, your life is always uncharted territory. Still, he had never expected to feel just so young or so foolish.
A large holographic poster caught his eye and distracted him momentarily, and seeing just what it said he pointed Rosie to the side of the street. They had to evade a tall sharply dressed Indian man and a cat-eyed punk woman to get to it. Strange that this would be pasted directly on the street like this; the announcement had more the feel of an olden tyme circus poster than a public announcement. But then, sometimes new media is old media. The poster said this:
Tonight is the night! Ten years culmination deserves a celebration. We want the whole city there.
Accompaning these words was a map of the city. Circles of fireworks and throbbing lights surrounded each of the six Villa superstructures, one noticeable incongruity being that the radius of the revelry around Villa 6 was nearly double the size of the others. Neither Blake or Rosie said anything. Actually this was news to neither of them, though naturally they had forgotten due to more pressing personal difficulties. The British and Londoners alike had marked the date on their calendars long before.
Should we go?” Rosie asked cavalierly. “What can they do to us if the whole city is there watching?”
Blake frowned at the idea, or perhaps her unwavering confidence. He certainly didn’t want to go, and just as certainly didn’t want to say so to her. He tried in vain to think of a way out, when completely stumped, a low octave gurgle resounded from his own stomach. Then, as if in call and answer, from hers.
How’s about we settle for something to eat for now? I can’t make decisions on an empty stomach.”
Rosie shrugged at his shyness but admitted she too was hungry. They wandered, hands interlocked and swinging lightly, into the center of the city, passing uncounted shops and businesses of all kinds until they crossed another zebra crossing and reached an unassuming little cafe that boldly professed by way of a sign out front that it, in fact, had the strongest coffee in London. “In?” Blake suggested and held the door open for Rosie who curtsied playfully to him in thanks. They seated themselves near the front windows. The place was empty except for a ghostly pale young man who, judging by the dour expression on his face, looked like he might be nursing a hangover. The waitress was a pleasant, overly enthusiastic American girl. She took their order with a very large smile plastered on her face and then went back to the bar.
The two of them bathed in the sun that shone in the window while they waited for her to return.
You don’t want to go to the Villas.” Her tone was not accusatory, simply reporting the facts.
No,” he said. “I’m not sure why.”
Are you afraid they’ll catch us?”
I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”
Why not then?”
Blake didn’t answer her immediately; he tried to quickly sort through all his many thoughts, his worries, and all the things he didn’t understand, catalogue them, arrange them. He took a deep breath.
It could be because of what they are, the Villas and their parties. They seem like the march of the few to greater heights. It could be their vanity, their arrogance. It could be that they look and feel so alien. It could be that all the people in the city who ‘we want here’ or They want there are just accessories to the self-importance of a small clan of wealthy people. It could be that I don’t like being one of those easily led, not if I can help it.”
She surveyed him in a way he couldn’t quite read. Whatever her look said, it made him want to laugh, but he couldn’t stop what he was saying.
It could be none of that matters at all. Maybe I’m just forgetting the reason why we’re put on this earth isn’t to begrudge what others have but cherish what we have. But where does that leave humanity if taken to the extreme?”
I don’t know.” She put her hands on the table and he took them without a thought.
Maybe I don’t want to go because I’m worried about my brothers. They’re there, at one of the Villas and I want to find them, but I don’t want to expose them, especially now that thing is dead, whatever it was. I feel like I abandoned them, like we’re all still in danger even if it doesn’t feel that way right now. Even if you’re different now, stronger, than me, then anyone.”
He paused reflecting on these words.
It could be that I don’t want to share you with anyone.”
Her lips cracked instantly and she showed her teeth in a big smile. She leaned in over the table at him, half-way, but came back upright before he could meet her.
Food’s up . . .” she whispered softly looking toward the kitchen doors.
Wha?” There it was; the doors flew open and the waitress practically skipped around the bar holding two big plates of roast, set them down on the table in front of them, to prance off again. But no sooner had she turned her back than Rosie pushed their food aside and pulled Blake into a smooth, warm kiss. They stayed like that, locked on each other for a long time, so long in fact that the waitress giggled to herself after she returned to the coffee bar, and the hungover man eyed them both jealously. When Blake and Rosie finally broke from one another their feelings were perfectly clear.
It could be that you just need some encouragement,” said Rosie.
Motivation,” he stammered happily in agreement.
He had a supremely difficult time of it, but he wanted to treat the moment with the gravity it deserved.
If,” he began, “going to this place is what we should do, we can’t just give ourselves up to it. We can’t merge with the flock. If we go, there should be a reason why we go . . .”
there should be a reason why we go . . .”
He stopped short, hearing his own sentence trail off as he did so. There was an exact echo of himself coming from somewhere in the room. The hungover man in the corner blinked weirdly, subconsciously experiencing Blake’s voice a second time without realizing. It was the tele, a widescreen in the corner, Blake was sure—looking over he saw himself on broadcast, or so it seemed. He’d seen this trick once before. He turned back to Rosie, who was smiling at him benignly. She cocked her head to the side—in his periphery, Blake noticed as the perspective in the TV tilted with hers. His face set on a diagonal. She squinted playfully at him—the angle narrowed and flexed with her.
I was thinking we might find a way to tell them all what we thought,” she said, rather casually.