Blue Hearts of Mars (19 page)

I stood. “I don’t even know if it’s true. But if it is, you have some warning”

“Yes,” he said, but seemed distant, in a mental fog.

“See you later,” I said, backing away, watching him in his distraction.

*****

That night I called Hemingway on my bedroom Gate. He answered, but it took a while. I know he was thinking that I was going to give him a hard time for ditching me for an android.

But I was past that. Let him keep her. I called him to deliver a message.

“Hey Retta,” he said when he answered. His room was muted and dark. I could only see him from the glow of his Gate. He had a bit of stubble growing on his jaw like it hadn’t seen a razor in days.

“Hello,” I said, softly. Searching his eyes for signs of me.

“How are you?” He asked, rubbing his hands together.

“Just fine,” I answered, trying to sound upbeat. “Listen, I just wondered if you could stop by the coffee bar tomorrow sometime. There’s something I need to tell you.”

His eyes narrowed. I felt them studying me. Whatever he was looking for, he wouldn’t find it. I was standing up in the middle of the camera’s view, with lots of light shining around me, fully dressed in street clothes and not pajamas. I’d gotten a pair of those jeans from FreeMars—the ones he thought I would look good in. And I had on a solid black button-down that hugged my torso. I’m pretty sure I looked great.

“What’s it about?”

“I’d rather talk about it in person. It’s not about us. Or your new girlfriend.”

He nodded, at last, and agreed to meet me. Didn’t deny the girlfriend bit, I noticed, a heavy feeling settling in my chest.

Ah well. There were plenty of other androids out there if I merely wanted to date an android. Even as I thought it, I knew that it was one hundred percent not about him being an android that I wanted him. It was everything else.

When he showed up at Cassini Coffee, I couldn’t help but remember all the other times he’d visited me there and how everything had now gone from a dream to a nightmare.

Like before, he was suddenly just there, standing in the wide doorway, his head tilted down slightly, eyes seemingly on fire and burning me from so far away. My heart began to race—whistling at a fever pitch it was going so fast.

I played like I was calm. I nodded at him, raising a finger to tell him I’d just be a second. Rather than coming up to the bar, he hovered at the entrance, like he was there against his will.

That bothered me. But what could I do?

Matt was off on vacation for a few days, so I was working with another associate named Star who was a bit older than me.

“By the light of Phobos,” she said, plumping her hair and pushing her chest out to show off her breasts. “Who is that beautiful specimen in the doorway?” I watched as she tried to catch his eye, fanning her face like she was suddenly extremely hot.

“He’s taken,” I said, unintentionally sounding defensive.

“By you?” she asked, running her eyes up and down my figure dubiously. I didn’t like her very much. She had a tendency to bulldoze everyone. Worse than Mei, even.

I shook my head. “No. He has a girlfriend.” I almost choked on the words.

“Too bad. I could use a piece of hotness like that.”

“I’m sure you have better options at the university,” I reminded her. “Anyway, I need to take a five or ten minute break to go talk to him.”

“You had your break,” she protested.

I paused in taking off my apron, my hands hovering over the ties.

I stared at her, in disbelief. “You have to be kidding me, Star. Look, Matt would let me take a break. I wasn’t sure Hemingway would show up, so I took my normally scheduled break. But he’s here now. I won’t take long.”

“His name is Hemingway?” she asked with a little laugh. She paused in polishing the decorative brass espresso maker displayed on the back counter. “Weird. That’s a last name, isn’t it?” As if she had room to talk with a name like Star. Certainly there had been a few people throughout history with such a name, but what did it amount to, really? Might as well name your kid Sun. Or Moon.

I finished removing my apron. “Yeah, I guess, a last name. Something like that.” She didn’t try to stop me preparing to go meet Hemingway. If she had, I possibly would have punched her. I could see Hemingway on the other side of the room, looking around impatiently. I’d never seen him so agitated. A sudden indignation welled up in me. Who did he think he was, getting all impatient? I ask him to do one thing—one!—and he had the audacity to act put out about it.

Throwing my apron down, I marched over to him, taking a few deep breaths on the way to calm myself.

“Thanks for coming,” I said when I got to him. He’d been leaning against the doorway, not fully committing to coming into the shop. When I approached him, he straightened and smiled.

“Sorry it took so long. There was a huge demonstration outside. The crowds were thick, a bit wild. It was crazy trying to get through them.”

My eyebrows came together. “A demonstration?”

“I guess that guy who calls himself the Voice is out there.”

“Were people fighting?”

“Not yet. But it wouldn’t surprise me if it went that way.”

“It’s been kind of slow tonight. Maybe that’s why,” I said, glancing back into the empty coffee bar.

He nodded and cleared his throat. “So what did you need to tell me that couldn’t be expressed over the Gate-call?”

Got right to the point. Huh. “Let’s go sit over here,” I said, leading him to the fountain where I’d once watched him throw in a cappa. I’d never found out what he wished for. Probably something stupid, like a girlfriend who was an android.

“This must be serious, Retta,” he said with a laugh.

“It is,” I said with a short nod. I sat down and turned sideways slightly so I could face him and he imitated my position. We were balanced on the edge of the fountain—a wide, wall of marble white brick. There was so little white brick around that it was always beautiful to see it.

“Really? OK,” he said, suddenly appearing concerned.

“A few months ago, I found some things out. I never told you. I should have, but I kept hoping we’d get back together and I could tell you then, if it mattered at all. I also wasn’t sure if what I learned was true. I’ve decided to tell you. If it is true, then you know now. If it isn’t, then I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Retta, really, what is it?” he asked, taking my hands in his and staring intently into my face.

I almost pulled my hands away, but the urge died quickly and I let him keep holding on, as though the connection might somehow mean that we were together again. Maybe touching me, he’d never want to let go again.

So pathetic of me.

I began with the simplest item. “Your heart. It’s red. Not blue. Red, like mine. And that I know is true.”

He laughed. “What?”

“I’ve seen the hearts they make for androids. And they’re red, not blue.” I said it too loudly on accident and I glanced around, to see if anyone was listening. We were alone, except for Star in the bar, staring into space, tapping a finger on her cheek in a bored, repetitive pattern, and a couple of junior high aged kids several shops down walking around like hoodlums.

He shrugged and tilted his head. “Well, thanks. But I knew that anyway. My mother told me.”

“Oh, she did?” I blushed. It made sense, considering that his mother created androids. But still. I wasn’t expecting him to know. “Well, I didn’t know. And most people don’t know either.”

“Thanks for telling me, though.” He tightened his grip on my hands. I swear my hands were on fire. It felt like it was spreading up my arms to the rest of my body. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

“No, there’s more.”

“Good,” he said, leaning closer to me.

If he tried to kiss me, so help me I’d knock him into the water. It’s not like I didn’t want a kiss. I did. But if he played with my emotions like that again, I just didn’t know if I could take it.

I took a deep breath. “The other thing. Right,” I paused, “the Martian government is planning to send out new colonists. They’ve requisitioned a hundred thousand units from Synlife. The plan is to send the androids first, Hemingway. New ones and the old androids.”

His eyebrows came together, furrowing as his eyes narrowed. “What?” He shifted slightly, blinking a few times. “Really? Uh, wow, I don’t know what to say. How do you know this?”

“I broke into the Synlife building,” I muttered, hoping the words were too slurred for him to understand, as though making myself less easily understood might mean it never happened. I looked at my Link, and pulled up the requisition and memo on the thin touch-screen. He leaned in close to read it. I could smell his hair, his neck, and felt the heat of his body rising through his clothes toward me.

“Honestly?” He turned from the Link to stare into my face. His lips thinned into a line of frustration. “Why? Why would you do that? It’s dangerous there,” he said, pulling me close. He tried to hug me, but I pushed my hands against his chest. I hesitated. Oh man. It was so . . . sculpted!

“Don’t,” I said, swallowing and trying to ignore how good he felt beneath my fingers. “We’re not together. Please don’t do that.”

He froze, then released me.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said, quietly.

“About not being together, or being sent to a new colony?” I asked. I sounded desperate. I knew it. But I no longer cared.

“Both,” he said, smiling awkwardly. “A new colony,” he repeated, whispering it.

“It sounds horrible, Hemingway. It means they could send you against your will. Just rip you from your life here like you have no say in it.”

“I can’t believe you broke into that building. They’re dangerous, Retta. You shouldn’t mess with them. They don’t play games.”

I studied his face. “Well, thank you for that late warning.” I suddenly regretted having pushed him away. I’d do anything to feel him near me again. Like a fool. A swooning fool.

“I’m serious.” His eyes became hard. “You don’t know how dangerous they are. I know. My mother and I know.”

“What, have they threatened you or something?”

“More than just threats, Retta.”

“You really don’t need to worry about it,” I said. “I wouldn’t go back in there for anything.”

“Good.” He folded his arms. “Now, is that all you have to tell me? I’d like to go out and listen to this Voice guy.”

“There was some other stuff,” I said, remembering the last document Mei copied. “But, this is the most damaging thing I found out.”

“Is it important? The other stuff?” He furrowed his brow at me.

“No, it’s fluff compared to the colonization thing, I think.”

He sat up like he was preparing to leave. The hollowing ache that had been gnawing its way through my body stopped in its tracks.

“They can’t just send you away,” I whispered, studying him. He was going to leave, I could feel it, and I’d never see him again. The thought of the world without Hemingway in it made my head spin and my stomach do somersaults. The lights were on again in his eyes, and I found myself lost in the swirling galaxies in his pupils.

“But they’ll try, anyway,” he said. His fingers were suddenly curling around mine. He shook his head, staring into my eyes. “I don’t want to go.”

“Don’t go, then.”

“How can I not? I’m powerless.” His voice was tinged with regret. “When will they announce it? That’s the big question.”

“They’d wait till the last minute. They’d wait because any warning could ruin it for them.”

“That’s true. You might be right.”

“You have to run,” I said, swallowing, amazed that I’d suggest something that would take him so far from me. But, still closer than a distant colony.

His eyes flashed. “Run? To where?”

“Run and hide. In the other settlements.”

“By myself?”

“At least until things die down. I haven’t decided for sure, but I might go public with the things I’ve just told you.”

“How?”

“The Voice,” I said, pulling that out of nowhere. I mean, I was making this crap up as I went. I didn’t even know until seeing Hemingway that the Voice was so close. “He’s outside. I can tell him. He’ll use it. He’ll tell everyone and they’ll believe him.”

“That might work,” Hemingway said, his voice brightening, his eyes searching the air like he was envisioning it. “Yeah, it might. Setting it in motion like that, and then running.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said, holding my breath. “I am. Me. You need me. Not that android. Me. A human. Our hearts are the same, Hemingway, and you always knew, but I didn’t. And you’re alive, with a spirit, intelligence, and I need you.”

He looked into my eyes, my soul, and nodded. “It changes everything. The blue heart thing, it’s to make us different from humans. A lie told to alleviate fears. To keep us separated by an idea so invisible yet so enormous.”