Amy did. "Turn it off."
"But–"
"That's his son, Rory. Turn it off. Now."
The table winked out. The room seemed dull and dim without its light. Amy was glad of the sudden shadow. Beside her, Javier continued staring at the table as though its images were still playing. Abruptly, he stood.
"I think I'll give that soaking tub a try, after all," he said, and left the room.
12
The Lies My Daddy Told Me
Amy wandered. She liked the house. It was the kind of built environment she would have obsessed over, once, mapping it and rendering it and redesigning it a hundred different ways. A distant and objective part of her enjoyed running her fingers over its surfaces: reclaimed wood, soapstone, privacy paper screens whose permeability altered under heat. The space's best feature was the way it could be altered so easily, how the barriers meant nothing if you were patient and willing to rearrange them. She had modified places like this in Edo period games, when she played Nobunaga or Ieyasu or someone else with a castle to keep. She recognized the layouts.
She closed every wall behind her as she moved ever deeper into the house. Then she slid each one along their respective rails until each seam was in an entirely different location, first on the left and then the right, alternating. She made herself another room, a tiny one with a low table and two matching chairs, and a scroll-style display hanging from the wall. As she entered, it glowed to life and gave her images of old temples and ornate castle towers whose curlicued dragons now breathed moss. Then she closed the wall until no light sliced through its seams.
Closing the doors behind her did nothing to hide her from the house, however. "You seem upset, Amy."
"I am upset, Rory." She tried finding a camera to speak to, but couldn't.
"Why?" Rory sounded genuinely puzzled "You've been saved. You'll never have to return to Redmond ever again, and you'll get to start a new life in a really fun city!"
Amy rested her arms on the table, and her head on her arms. Her hair still smelled like Elliott Bay. She'd have wanted to wash it, if she could be persuaded to care. She couldn't believe there was actually a time when she resisted wearing clothes chosen from the trash. It seemed so trivial, now. Her mother was dead. Her dad was in a jail cell somewhere. And no matter how far away from this place Amy got, she would still be stuck with Portia.
"I feel like I'm trading one cage for another."
"You could always try to make it on your own, Amy." On the wall, the scroll showed her images of vN sitting behind an electrified fence at a temporary prison. They wore green jumpsuits and they looked patient, even content. Like they expected to happily reunite with their humans once this whole thing blew over. "I'm sure you'd do just fine, at least for a little while."
A knock sounded on the door. It slid aside, and Javier poked his head through. He was wearing a thin cotton bathrobe and a pair of slippers. "Hey."
"Hey yourself."
He pushed the door the rest of the way, and entered. "Nice room."
Amy looked at the scroll. "Rory, could Javier and I talk in private? We have a lot to go over."
"Of course! I'm way behind on my menu planning; please just ping if you need anything."
Javier frowned at the ceiling, then sat down across from her at the table. He reached across it and plucked something free from her hair: a piece of seaweed. He twisted it between thumb and forefinger until she took hold of it.
"Are you trying to tell me something?"
"The soaking tub is very nice. It has a wide variety of shampoos on tap."
The volume of her sudden, surprised laughter made the room seem smaller and more intimate. She grabbed for Javier's hand, gripping hard. She squeezed, and he squeezed. She looked up and he was looking at her, too, and it was like kissing – or perhaps the moment just before kissing, or maybe a long time after.
"Let me find that zipper."
Amy blinked. She withdrew her hand and folded her arms. She felt a line form between her brows.
Javier threw his hands in the air. "Fine! Do it by yourself. I just thought it might be tricky to get out of."
I'm sure that's what he tells all the girls.
"Oh." Amy tapped a button on her wrist. Instantly, the suit went slack on her skin. It fell down one shoulder and she hastened to pull it back up. "See? It's smart fabric, that's all. No snaps, no zippers."
She made to tighten the suit back up again, but Javier reached for her shoulder. Gently, he pulled the fabric aside. "Jesus."
"What?" She tried to look. "What is it?"