vN The First Machine Dynasty(21)

"Make with the condos, lady, before I let the kudzu run wild all over this thing."



"OK, OK, I'm building!" She paused. "What's a kudzu?"



Javier shook his head again, more softly this time. "Hopeless. You're completely hopeless." But he kept planting.



In the end, their city blossomed in fits and starts, and they talked about where to put things, and whether sidewalks were implied or not (Javier maintained that she should draw separate lines to indicate them, whereas she thought that any self-respecting city would have them already), and if decorative fountains were too wasteful. But when they finished, it looked real and lived-in, and not like a school project. Amy sat on her knees admiring it as Javier stood and stretched.



"I feel like I should be tired, but I'm not," she said.



"Of course you're not." Javier pointed to a broad band of pink in the eastern sky. "Sun's rising."



Amy stood up. "Does it really make that much of a difference?"



"Definitely," Javier said. "If it weren't so damn cold, we could go up to the Arctic and stay awake for months."



Amy tried to imagine living up there amid all the snow. "I think I prefer sleeping."



Javier nodded. "Me too. Let's go back to bed."



"You mean the back of the car?"



"No, I mean the darling little B and B I booked us into. Of course I mean the back of the car." He began crossing the playground, then walked backwards to face her. "Haven't you ever slept in the back of a car before?"



Amy jogged up to meet him. "Not for a whole night."



"Well, that wasn't a whole night, either, so it doesn't count."



"It does too. I fully intended to sleep there the whole night."



"So why'd you leave?"



Amy stopped short. She looked at Javier. He folded his arms and raised his chin. "I just couldn't sleep," she said.



Liar.



"Why'd you come find me?" Amy asked before Granny could say anything further.



"I couldn't sleep, either." Javier turned and continued walking. "You defrag to wake the dead. All those little twitches and moans."



"I was not moaning."



"Oh, so now my voice detection is off, huh? Just all of a sudden since I met you."



"Maybe it's been off all along, and nobody's ever told you."



"Trust me, I know a m–" He stopped short, and she bumped into him. He stood in a stream of sunlight trickling between the trees, eyes shut, letting the brightness wash over his face. Then his eyes opened, and he smiled down at Amy. "Your turn."



He stepped aside, and ushered her into the light. It hit Amy like a wave, like the first time she'd ever visited the ocean and been knocked down by the tide. She even started a little and Javier's fingers landed on her shoulders to steady her. She'd had no idea just how cold she'd been until that first morning light flooded her face. Her lips burned with it. She turned her head just to get more, to feel it on her ears and down her neck and across her collarbone. When she opened her eyes, Javier was staring.



"What's wrong?" Amy asked.



"Nothing," Javier said. "Absolutely nothing."





Later that morning, it was Amy's turn to wake up and find Javier gone. Not that she'd really slept very much; the sun streaming through the windows kept her right on the cusp of sleep without actually granting her the unconsciousness she needed. But even if she weren't photosynthetic, Amy doubted she could have gotten back to sleep. She'd faced away from Javier when they crawled back into the car (he watched her get in ahead of him, and for a moment she panicked, thinking that she would put a hand or foot wrong and accidentally hurt Junior, until Javier cleared his throat and she hurried under the blanket), but for the longest time, she sensed a pair of eyes watching the back of her neck as the interior of the vehicle warmed and brightened.



They couldn't have gone far, so she set out to look. More people walked along the path now that the sun was fully out. Some of them had even finished breakfast, already; she saw dogs licking dishes clean and humans folding up solar grills. Babies cried. Kids whined about boredom. Amy wondered how long Junior had before he became one of them. Did Javier take his sons to places like this often? Did they go hiking or photographing or birding or whatever else it was that these people – these normal people, organic and synthetic both, these non-fugitives – came here intending to do?



"Hey! Looks like you lost that game of King of the Mountain, huh?"



Amy blinked. Melissa stood before her, carrying a caddy of dishes. She looked Amy up and down. Belatedly, Amy realized she probably did look worse for wear: the combination of goo and sap had been washed away by the rain from her skin but not her clothes or hair, and last night's epic sandbox construction probably hadn't helped, either.