Page 50 of Coldwire
“Deep breaths, please. If your pulse elevates any higher, I have to call emergency services.”
I glare at the booth’s waveform. “I’m fine. I’m calm.”
“It seems to me that your future holds having conversations with yourself,” the psychic booth says. “There’s more to sexuality and love than defining your exact position and stance. In the end, it’s about figuring out how much you’re willing to accept. What you have decided you deserve.What you make peace with in the space you fit into. I see love for you. It’s up to you to let yourself have it rather than keep it outside.”
I have to fight the urge to scoff. As nice as the sentiment is, it is not as simple as medecidingI should feel less wrong in the space I fit into. If I could, wouldn’t I havedone it by now?
“Ward, there you are.”
The curtain suddenly flings open. It gives me a great fright, though at least I don’t hit my head again when I swivel fast.
“Oh, hey,” I say breezily. “Did you finish your interview?”
Kieren holds up a card. I recognize its blue color for the tourist pass, so I’ll take that as a yes.
“What are you doing in here?” he asks in return.
“Can’t you tell?” I gesture to the screen. Conveniently, the booth has gone quiet on me. I suppose my five dollars have been used up. “I’m getting an AI psychic love reading.”
Kieren’s gaze sweeps over the booth slowly. I can see how badly he wants to make fun of me. He’s just struggling to decide what to address first.
“You know most of these things have real people on the other end, right?”
I blink. “What?”
“Yeah.” He cranes his head into the booth, scanning along the top. “They call it AI to disarm you into talking, but actual AI tested poorly with consumers. They liked the humans better. These companies hire people downcountry to sit in front of a laptop for a few bucks every hour and chat when a booth gets activated.”
I should have known the booth sounded too astute. I clamber out of the seat, miffed that I’ve needed Kieren to correct me on Medaluo’s way of life twice in the span of an hour.
“Whatever,” I mutter. “You were taking a long time. I had to amuse myself.”
Kieren tries to get in my way when I stand. I stomp on his foot. Accidentally.
“Ow,” he hisses.
“Do youmind—”
I cut myself off, spotting a flash of movement behind him. Something has followed him into the corridor. A blur of black movement: I wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for the obnoxious glowing red of the booth, lighting up the space and reflecting back in the cat’s eyes when it sees that I’ve spotted it. It darts away.
“Kieren,” I gasp, yanking his wrist and breaking into a run. “It’s the talking cat!”
13EIRALE
We pile onto the subway.
I expect the train cars to be as empty as the station, but the seats are crammed tight, passengers with their arms curled around their stomachs, faces covered by masks, flashing glasses perched on their noses so they can browse with their hands free.
The doors close. An automated announcement declares the city center to be the next stop, and the subway surges into movement again. We’ve tracked dirt into the train car upon entering, though that’s the fault of the dilapidated station. Other passengers don’t make any remarks. At the far side, a half-empty bottle of soda rolls back and forth, splashing liquid onto the floor with each turn.
“You’re not afraid that surveillance is going to follow you onto public transport?” I say to Nik. We evacuated the hotel and hurried across the street into the subway station with such haste that I still haven’t registered what exactly we were running from.
“What?” Nik bellows.
The roar of the tracks drowns me out completely. One of the windows has been cracked open in the train car, which means I can barely hear myself. At the very least, the other passengers aren’t going to hear me.
“I said,” I shout, “you’re risking public transport surveillance?”
Again, Nik goes, “What?”
