Free Slow Apocalypse by John Varley Page B

wasn’t long in coming. She stood up, calm as could be.
    “I can’t begin to imagine why you have manufactured this silly story,” shesaid. “I think you may have cracked under the pressure of not finding work. I don’t want to think there’s a more sinister motive. I might be able to shrug it off, take it as a bad joke, but you seem to have infected our daughter with your paranoid fantasy, and I can’t forgive you for that. I’m moving out, right now, and I’m taking Addison with me. Come with me, Addison, and we’ll pack.”
    Addison glanced at him. He didn’t move. This was up to her. She folded her hands and looked at her mother.
    “I’m staying here,” she said.
    “Addison, I’m not telling you again. Get out of that chair and come with me.”
    “No, Mom.” There was a catch in her voice, but she held her mother’s eyes.
    Karen’s eyes were cold.
    “I see,” she said. “I can’t physically force you to come with me, but both of you should know that my lawyer will have something to say about all this. He’ll be contacting you tomorrow. I can’t wait to hear you tell your little story in court. Which is where I’ll see you next.” She turned and stalked out of the room. Dave could hear her going up the stairs. He looked at Addison.
    “Well,” she said. “That went nicely, don’t you think?”
    Karen came back down carrying a suitcase. Dave followed her to the door.
    “Karen, don’t do this.”
    “Get out of my way.”
    He closed the door behind her. He felt numb, and more than a little shaky. It felt like one part of his life was over and another was beginning, and he wasn’t ready for it. He had known for some time, even before the crisis, that this day would come, in one way or another. He still loved her, or maybe he still loved the woman he thought was somewhere inside this hard, detached Karen who had replaced the woman he married, but he doubted that she loved him any longer, not even deep down.
    Addison joined him. He put an arm over her shoulder. He thought she might cry—he would have, if it had happened to him at her age—but she didn’t. He thought that, of the three of them, she might have been the strongest.
    Addison answered the phone. She listened a moment, and then handed it to her father.
    “It’s Mom,” she whispered. “She’s crying.”
    He couldn’t immediately make out what she was saying; it was an incoherent mixture of words and sobs. But she finally pulled herself together.
    “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life,” she said. “I went to the hotel and gave them my credit card…and it was
refused
! What have you done to us, Dave? That desk clerk, the way she looked at me…and they kept the card, David! As if I had stolen it!”
    “I’m so sorry, Karen. I have some cash, if you want it. You can go somewhere else. Where did you try to check in?”
    “The Beverly-Wilshire.” He knew the Beverly-Wilshire’s rooms went for around $600 per night. “I suppose you want me to live at the Motel 6.”
    “No, but there are good accommodations that are cheaper than the Beverly-Wilshire. Just come back here and I’ll give you the money. We’ll work something out.”
    “I can’t. I wrecked the car.”
    “Karen, are you all right?”
    “Of course I’m not all right. But I’m not injured. I was so upset…”
    “Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.”
    The car was at the curb on Santa Monica Boulevard, on the edge of Beverly Hills. Karen was sitting in the backseat on the left, and at first he couldn’t see anything wrong with the car. He parked behind her and got out onto the sidewalk, leaving Addison inside. Then he could see that the right front fender was crumpled and a lot of paint had been scratched off on that side. The doors on the right side were also caved in. Karen got out of the car and stood looking at it.
    “What happened?” he asked her.
    “I was crying, and reached for my purse. I hit a parked car.”
    “Where’s