Will McIntosh - Love Minus Eighty

Rob disabled his system, surveyed the suburbs in the raw. They were passing an old, partially collapsed motel his system had edited out entirely, including the mother bathing her children with water dabbed from a rusty frying pan.

“What are you doing?” Winter asked, watching him.

“I disabled the sensory filters on my system. I spent so long seeing this place in the raw that I’m kind of used to seeing it that way. I think I prefer it.”

Winter tapped her own gorgeous, wildly expensive system, then looked around, inhaling deeply. “Wow. I see what you mean. It’s a completely different place.” She nodded. “I’m going to keep mine off too, so we’re seeing the same things.”

To say nothing of smelling the same things. The air was rife with a pungent industrial odor.

“I can’t help thinking of my brother, out there somewhere living a Raw Life,” Winter said. “I miss him. I didn’t always agree with him, but I respected his conviction.” She looked at Rob. “In a lot of ways he reminds me of you.”

Rob smiled, basking in the compliment. “Did you ever think you might want to go find him? Were you ever tempted by the Raw Life?” He tried to make the question sound like casual curiosity, but it was more than that, really. If she ever decided to bolt, if they ever decided to bolt, a raw community would be a possible destination.

Winter sighed, a little wistfully. “Not really. I like the pace of the city. I would miss being connected to everyone, to everything.”

Rob nodded, though he felt slightly disappointed. He wanted to ask if she thought she could at least tolerate a Raw Life, if it meant the two of them could be together, but it wasn’t fair to ask. The risk would be enormous for her, much greater than for him.

“Don’t be thrown if Dad introduces you to the image of my mom that he’s got wandering the house.”

“Do I pretend she’s a live person, or how do I treat her?”

“He won’t expect you to play along or anything. Maybe just comment that she was pretty, or something. He’d like that.”

It was so strange, to think Winter and his dad were about to meet. Rob couldn’t help wondering about the significance of it. Did Winter see it as coming home to meet the parents? Again, he reminded himself of Winter’s situation. They couldn’t ever be a couple in the typical sense. Unless they ran away and disappeared.

“This is it.” Rob pointed to his house, second on the right on Appleby Street. Part of him wished Winter hadn’t disabled her sensory filter, so the house would appear less dilapidated than it was.

“It has a good feel to it. A warmth.”

Dad opened the side door before they had a chance to knock. He grinned at Winter, spread his arms, and when Winter hugged him, he squeezed her tight, rocked her back and forth. When he finally broke away to look at her, there were tears in his eyes, as if he’d been reunited with an old, dear friend. It wasn’t until Winter sniffed that Rob realized she was crying too.

Dad put an arm across Rob’s shoulder, and led them both into the house. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, but to Rob’s surprise, Dad didn’t introduce her to Winter. Instead, he went to the cabinet, lifted out a pot.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked.

“I’d love some.” Winter approached Rob’s mom almost reverently, studied her for a moment. “Your wife was beautiful, Mr. Mashita.”

His dad turned, smiling a little sadly. “That’s kind of you to say, and I must agree. And call me Lorne. We’ve known each other for two years, even if you didn’t know it.”

“Oh, I did.” Winter peeked into Lorne’s business room. “May I?”

“Sure,” Lorne said. “I usually charge six dollars for the tour, but I’ll give it to you for free.” Lorne flipped on the lights.

Winter walked around, arms folded. She lingered for a long time at the Wall of Fame, studying photos, especially the old ones, chuckling at some of the goofy poses.

Finally, she turned to face Lorne. “This is a good place. You can feel it, just standing here.”

There was a tap on the front door. Rob half expected it to be a customer looking to get an after-work haircut, but it was Veronika, Nathan, and Lycan. Each was carrying a stay-fresh food container.

They had dinner, the six of them—seven if you counted Mom—and everyone seemed to have a wonderful time except Nathan, who was polite but distracted, and hollow-eyed.

Veronika had told Rob a few days earlier that her friendship with Lycan had morphed into something more. Not a romance, she insisted, but an NPMC—a “nonplatonic monogamous companionship.” Seeing them together, you wouldn’t know anything had changed, except that instead of mostly looking at his hands, Lycan mostly looked at Veronika. He also spoke more, seemed more connected to the group, even cracked a couple of jokes. Nathan, on the other hand, spent most of the evening looking off into space. Evidently Lorelei’s new romance was popular with her viewers. Rob imagined it was difficult, hearing about everything your ex-girlfriend was doing on the microfeeds.

Lorne was showing everyone the expression Rob had made the day Peter sauntered in and asked if someone was interested in information about a bridesicle, when Rob was pinged.

It was from Peter, a text-only message. Cryomed was going to announce the closing of their facilities in the morning.

Rob leaped from his seat. “ Holy shit .” He enlarged the message so everyone could see it.

“Holy shit,” Winter echoed as they gaped at the message.

Cryomed was closing their bridesicle facilities. All of them. They weren’t reforming their practices, they were simply pulling the plug on the entire program.

“Why would they do that?” Veronika asked. “Bridesicle Watch wasn’t demanding they close the whole thing down, just make the process more humane.”

Why would they do that? Rob sent to Peter.

The reply came promptly. Rob posted it for all to see.

The program was not a huge revenue source for Cryomed. Easier to shut it down than to institute the reforms. Plus, this way they go out on their own terms, appear stronger.

Rob shot back a quick subvocalized reply. I know that’s exactly what you wanted to happen. Your wife is at peace. Thank you. He’d gotten what he wanted, but sitting beside Winter, Rob couldn’t help feeling guilty.

“Good. Good for Sunali,” Winter said, fighting back tears.

Rob wondered if it was good. Fewer women would now have a chance to be revived. If not for the program, Winter wouldn’t be sitting next to him, squeezing his hand.

“That’s right,” Veronika said. “Good for Sunali. She did it.” She patted Lycan on the back. “With some help.”

“With a lot of help,” Rob said. “From both of you.” He raised his glass. “Vee and Lycan, congratulations.”

Lycan, who had been staring at the news feed, didn’t lift his glass. “What about the women who don’t have insurance, though? What happens to them?”

“Surely they have to move them to the main facility,” Veronika said. “After the black eye they took over the way they were treating them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Winter said. “Either way, they’re better off.” She looked around the table. “I know I owe my life to that place, but believe me, they’re better off.”

Lorne nodded, thoughtful. “No one would know better than you.”

Winter rode back to the city with the others while Rob took the train. They met back at Rob’s apartment and made love in his pullout bed.

Afterward, they lay clutching each other, as if anticipating a hurricane that would pull them apart.

“I wish I could feel happier, after what happened today,” Winter said. “All I keep thinking is, it doesn’t affect me at all. I’m still an indentured servant.”