Free Love Minus Eighty by Will McIntosh Page B

giving up his music hurt almost as much as the idea of giving up his system. Not having his system the past few months had been like not having his right hand. No, worse; he’d rather lose his right hand than his system. Maybe he could allow himself that one indulgence.
    He stopped walking.
    No. He wasn’t going to start making compromises on thispromise. Full effort. No bullshit. He wanted his father to be able to look him in the eye and feel proud, or at least not feel ashamed. If he lived at home and gave up his system, he could visit maybe three times a year. And he would; he would keep his promise, no matter what.
    Rob sent a message to his manager at the reclamation center to see if he could pick up some extra shifts.

14
Veronika
    Veronika turned her face toward the sun, enjoying the heat on her cheeks, trying not to think of the wrinkles her older self would have to endure. Ultralight copters flitted less than a hundred feet above, looking so much like giant, brightly colored dragonflies. It was worth the substantial toll she and Nathan were paying to lounge on such a high, isolated platform. It was rejuvenating, to be so far from the dense crowds of the city. Almost like a spiritual retreat.
    “You know what’s missing from this?” Nathan gestured at the view.
    “Nothing?”
    “Masseuses.”
    “Oh.” She dropped her head. “I was perfectly content two seconds ago, now you’ve pointed out a shortcoming in my paradise.”
    Nathan shrugged. “I’ll just have to plug the hole in your paradise.”
    Nathan’s fingers flew across his system as Veronika wondered. Massages? That was an awfully intimate suggestion. Downright romantic, almost.
    “So I paid Winter a visit,” Nathan said.
    Veronika jolted. “Oh my god. You’re kidding. What happened?” It had never occurred to Veronika that visiting Winter was even possible, but she was in the minus eighty, so of course it was.
    Nathan rolled onto his stomach so he could face Veronika. “I felt like I owed it to her, to pay my respects. After the timing of her death and all.” He reached up to work his system. Veronika was pretty sure he was working with a client. “Anyway, it was a mistake.”
    “How so?”
    He half whispered his answer, like he was saying something obscene. “She wanted me to visit regularly, like I was a part of her family or something.”
    Veronika remembered lying in bed when she was twelve, trying to imagine what it would be like to be a bridesicle. She’d just learned about the program that afternoon, from her friend Marcy Tayback, and imagining herself in one of those crèches had filled her with such awful dread. “I know you can’t afford to do that, but I can understand her being desperate enough to ask.” She couldn’t imagine visiting someone there; the idea made her skin prickle. “It would be rancid hell to be a bridesicle. Not that I have anything to worry about.” Veronika didn’t expect Nathan to argue, since getting selected for the program was based on physical beauty.
    “At least she has a fighting chance at getting revived,” Nathan said. “One day she could be walking around down there again.” He gestured toward High Town, far below. On a teacher’s salary, Winter hadn’t lived in High Town, but ifshe was revived, she’d be married to someone who lived in High Town, or on an island estate.
    The tube at the far end of the platform hummed, then the door rolled open and the masseuse drones rolled out.
    As soon as the drones flashed a green
all clear
to indicate they’d set up a camouflage field, Nathan pulled his shirt over his head, then wriggled out of his pants. Veronika’s view was masked, of course; to her it appeared Nathan was wearing a white cylinder from waist to thighs. Still, he was really in his underwear, and a moment later so was she, and they both knew it.
    Veronika moaned with pleasure as the drone worked on the knots in her back with soft grips while simultaneously running curved