Asimov's Science Fiction: September 2013 by Penny Publications Page A

an escapologist, my life depended on it. Half of showmanship is the careful selection of props.
    Veronica looked astounded. "So that's why you came to Cockaigne—to perform a
trick?"
    "Yes, exactly," I replied.
    "But what about me?" she cried. "What does that make me?"
    "Well, it wouldn't be utopia without romance," I said. "When I met you, I fell in love. And so I stayed a lot longer than I'd planned."
    I'd justif ied that to myself in various ways. It was an adventure. It was a rigorous demonstration of Cockaigne as utopia. It was a chance to break new ground by staging shows on a vast scale. But mostly, it was love.
    Love is just one of the ways that utopia sucks you in.
    "And now you're leaving?" said Veronica, her voice suddenly cold. "To finish your trick?"
    "That's the plan," I admitted. "But I still love you. And so I'm asking you to come with me."
    I knew it didn't sound like much of an offer, so I tried to put the best possible spin on it. "Think of it as a challenge! You'd be stepping outside the safe, comfortable world of Cockaigne, where everything you want is there for the taking. You'd be entering a harsher world where accomplishments are hard-earned, and more meaningful...."
    My voice trailed off, partly because Veronica didn't look remotely persuaded, and partly because I didn't really believe my spiel anyway. It wouldn't be utopia if you could convincingly denigrate it.
    "You don't know how old I am," she said sadly. "If I left Cockaigne, my body wouldn't last for very long."
    I'd suspected this. Trying to take Veronica out of Cockaigne would be like trying to take fairy gold out of Elf land. All too soon, there'd only be a few withered scraps, fading on the breeze.
    That was why I'd concocted the black hole stunt, with the audience making duplicates of themselves. Now I pointed to the copying booth that Veronica had previously used.
    "I'm not asking you to send your original body. You can stay here. Just make a copy of yourself, to accompany me." I grasped her hands, and adopted my courtly mode. "I beg of you, my Queen. Your love is the greatest treasure in all the land of Cockaigne. Without it, I'm bereft. Come with me!"
    Since Veronica had already sent a copy of herself to certain death inside a black hole, I figured that she could hardly refuse to send a copy to accompany me outside Cockaigne.
    Veronica pursed her lips. "It doesn't seem fair. If you take a copy of me with you, then you'll have my company—but my original self will be left here all alone. Why don't you leave a copy of yours here with me? Then it's symmetrical."
    I shook my head. "Unfortunately, I can't do that. If I leave a copy of myself here in Cockaigne, then I haven't really escaped."
    Veronica shot me a disgusted look. "So it's the escape that matters, rather than being with me."
    "I want you with me!" I protested. "That's why I'm asking you to come."
    "But if you're so keen on the purity of your escape, then it won't look good if you bring a copy of me back with you. Everyone outside will think I'm just some kind of sex doll that you're addicted to and can't let go of. They'll say you haven't fully escaped, because you're still chained to your fantasy lover."
    This hit me like a punch in the stomach. Veronica was right. How could I say that I'd escaped from utopia, if I insisted on bringing a piece of it back with me?
    My love for Veronica had blinded me. I'd schemed to find some way of taking her with me, because living without her was unthinkable.
    Yet this was meant to be the hardest possible escapology feat. No clever gimmick could finesse it. If I wanted to complete the stunt I'd plotted for so many years, and reach the pinnacle of my profession, then I had to renounce every single aspect of utopia—including Veronica.
    I faced an unavoidable choice: either abandon my cherished ambition, or leave Veronica forever.
    Maybe my relationship with Veronica was just a delusion. Was she merely a sex doll, a fantasy crafted to