When he reached the halfway mark, winded but still feeling good, he cut through Brandywine Park, though it was a roundabout route to Park Avenue High and Zuckerberg, where he was meeting Veronika and Nathan, and an additional toll charge to boot. He’d be damned if he was going to climb to High Town and not see Brandywine Park, though.
Three dollars rolled off his account as he passed through the gate. It was a pittance; it took him five minutes of plucking parts at the reclamation center to earn that much, but in the new order of his life every expenditure was a defeat.
If anything was worth it, though, it was Brandywine Park. Rob chose a song from Six Anonymous to accompany his climb, wished he had a system to give him the full effect. With a system, the semitransparent pedestrium vanished, and you walked on air, six hundred feet above the roofs and streets of Low Town, passing islands of wilderness—copses of trees and vegetation set among winding staircases that looked to be made of silk thread—far too delicate to support a person.
Rob tried to ignore the readout on his handheld as he stepped onto a staircase and was charged another dollar and a half. As he climbed, the vista expanded farther. He found the patchwork of buildings, roads, parking lots, and parks that stretched to the horizons pleasing to the eye, the contrast between the busy ground and the silent, open sky in beautiful balance.
When he finally reached street level in High Town, he realized the climb hadn’t been as bad as he’d anticipated. He was barely winded, actually. Having neither a vehicle nor money for public transport meant he was walking everywhere, and the muscles in his thighs felt harder and stronger because of it. There were upsides to living raw. Maybe one day he’d even stop missing his system.
Heading east, Rob suddenly felt like he was crawling as people soared by in their High Town shoes. He slowed further as he passed Backstreets on Fifth Avenue, recalling how he’d once told Lorelei that Backstreets was going to be the first club he played in High Town. He’d been so certain of how his life was going to unfold.
He spotted Nathan and Veronika up ahead. Nathan saw him, waved a greeting.
“Good to see you, Cousin.” Nathan squeezed Rob’s hand, looking at him like you would an old, dear friend you haven’t seen in a long time.
As usual, Veronika seemed nervous, ill at ease. Something about her gave Rob the impression she was always ill at ease.
They took an elevator toward the skywalks. Rob didn’t complain as fifteen dollars rolled off of his account balance—Nathan and Veronika seemed to keep track of what he spent when he was with them, and later dropped it into his account. Today that was a good thing, given that eating dinner in High Town with Nathan and his friends would cost two hundred easy, even if Rob drank nothing but water. While they rode, Nathan and Veronika resumed the debate they’d evidently been having when they met up with Rob.
“L-Dat’s algorithm pegged us at point eight-nine compatibility,” Nathan said. He looked to Rob. “Not that I put a lot of stock in those scores, because they assume everyone’s telling the truth in their profiles, but still, point eight-nine! It seemed so promising until the first face-to-face.”
Rob nodded sagely. He had no idea what point eight-nine compatibility was, but didn’t want to seem ignorant.
“You just can’t tell through screens. The intangibles don’t come through,” Nathan said.
“Which intangibles are those?” Rob asked, mostly to be part of the conversation. “You mean like chemistry?”
“Yeah, chemistry, whatever that is.” Nathan waved his hands before returning them to his system, and whatever supplemental conversation he was having. “The thing is, compatibility algorithms are fairly effective for most people, despite their flaws. For me, they’re useless. Worse than useless—they’re counterproductive. I’m much more likely to click with a woman I meet in the wild. Take Winter, for example. I met Winter at work, when I went to her class to give a presentation on L-Dat.”
Rob felt a jolt of adrenaline at the mention of Winter’s name. He wanted to learn more about her, so he would have more substantial things to say the next time he visited, and Nathan was the person who could help him there, yet he was painfully aware of how Veronika glanced his way at the mention of Winter’s name, curious of how he would react, and how the half-dozen screens watching the action from a distance (friends of Nathan’s, he’d guessed) crept closer, not wanting to miss anything. He decided not to say anything; he’d wait for a less public moment to ask Nathan what Winter was like, and if Nathan seemed amenable, maybe ask to view some recordings of time they’d spent together. Rob had no doubt Nathan, who seemed like a true techie, recorded all of his waking moments. Of course in recent years who didn’t, besides people who didn’t own systems?
“You know, if the algorithms are misfiring that badly, I wonder if there’s a disconnect between the characteristics you’re attracted to in a woman and the characteristics that would lead you to a healthy relationship,” Veronika said.
“Oh, is that it?” Nathan raised his eyebrows.
“Either that,” Veronika went on, “or you’ve become so overwhelmed with all the possibilities, you’re incapable of settling for any one real, and therefore imperfect, woman. It’s a common problem; I see it in my clients all the time.”
“So do I,” Nathan said.
They stepped off the elevator, onto a skywalk, neither of them missing a beat.
“That doesn’t mean you’re immune to it. Just because we do this for a living doesn’t mean we’re aware of our own weaknesses.”
Rob sensed a subtext here. He wondered if Veronika and Nathan had gone out at some point. They didn’t seem like a good match—Nathan was suave and charming, Veronika kind of goofy—but he’d seen odder couples.
“And by ‘we,’ you mean me,” Nathan said. He was sporting an easy smile, enjoying himself. Actually, they both looked like they were enjoying it. “You’re certainly aware of your weaknesses.”
“Yes, I am. I’m neurotic as hell,” Veronika said without missing a beat. “That’s why most of my relationships last a couple of months—it’s how long it takes me to start driving a guy crazy.” She rolled her wrist, flicked an accusing finger in Nathan’s direction. “Your relationships, on the other hand, tend to last a couple of weeks. You hop from woman to woman like they’re gelato flavors.” She looked at Rob as if she’d just remembered he was there. “Now you.”
Nathan laughed delightedly. “You’ve met Rob a grand total of, what, four times, but you’ve already got him pegged?”
Veronika stepped in front of Nathan, forcing him to stop. She pushed her face right up close to Nathan’s—close enough for a kiss. “You doubt me, do you?”
Nathan grinned, looked toward Rob. “Not at all. Let’s hear about Rob’s love life.”
They went on walking as Veronika offered her assessment of Rob. “Most of your relationships have lasted more than a year, and when you’re not seeing someone, you don’t see too many women a second time. If you’re not feeling it, you move on.”
Rob smiled, shrugged. “You got me.”
Veronika rolled her eyes toward the sky. “It’s so obvious that you’re disgustingly well adjusted. You’ll be trolling the listings one day, discover a woman who’s a point nine-two match, fall in love, and be completely faithful to her for the rest of your life. And you’ll do it all without a coach. Makes me sick.”
Rob held up his finger. “Ah, you missed there. I don’t use dating services.”
Dual cries of surprise lit the air.