Mind Over Ship by David Marusek Page A

snake over his shoulders and around his waist. It buckled with a decisive snap.
    Mary took the seat next to his in the same pod, and when the car released its brakes and began to roll to the injection ramp, she said, “We’ll go to Provo for our own car.”
    “No, don’t bother,” Fred said, all the fight gone out of him. “Like you said, it’s just a car.” To the car he said, “Chicago, APRT 7.” Mary bit her lip.
    The car rolled down the ramp. It descended several levels to the transcontinental grid, gaining speed, and suddenly they were pressed against their seatbacks as they were shot into the pneumatic stream. The tube walls outside their windows blurred into a smooth umber streak before dimming to blackness.
    As gently as she could, Mary said, “You know, Fred, since neither of uswere employed by Applied People anymore, they asked me to move out of the APRT.”
    He turned to her, his outrage rekindled. “They fired you because of me? They put you out on the street? Why didn’t you tell me this?”
    “No, Fred, it’s nothing like that. I
wanted
to quit. I don’t
have
to work anymore, remember? I own a hollyholo character, a unit of the Leena line. I have my own independent income, I told you about that. I quit Applied People on my own.”
    He seemed confused. “Yes, I remember about the Leena, but did you tell me about quitting Applied People? About moving out of the APRT?”
    She nodded.
    “But you work for Ellen Starke, don’t you? You live there now and borrow her limo whenever you like?” He spoke with strained calm, as though asking her if she had a lover.
    She could tell how much he wanted to be told he was wrong, but lying would gain them nothing. Still, it was too soon to have this conversation. “We’ll have plenty of time to decide where and how we’ll live, Fred. For the next few days, why don’t we just stay in a hotel.”
    She could see how ready he was to fight—he must have thought she was taking him to Starke Manse. Fortunately, Lyra piped up and said,
We’ve reserved you a suite at Cass Tower.
    “Why don’t we stay in Cass Tower, Fred? I’ve reserved a suite there.”
    He nodded but wasn’t able to let it drop completely. “Cass Tower? Are you an aff then?”
    She chuckled. “You don’t have to be an aff to stay a few nights at Cass Tower.” But, in fact, you did. Not even her hollyholo’s sizable income would afford that address for long. “You don’t mind?” she said. “Just until the dust settles?”
    “What’s to mind?” he said, staring at his reflection in the darkened window. “Living like an aff.”
     
    WHEN THEY ARRIVED at Cass Tower, the limo bypassed the public depot and entered a lift stack that took them directly to their floor. Their suite was on the 630th floor, but its tony altitude was offset by the fact that it was far from any exterior wall, just like their old APRT efficiency. But when they entered and Mary saw how nice it was, she thought it would do.
    Their things, which Georgine had sent over, were arranged on shelves and in closets. There was no kitchen but a recessed nook with a kulinmate and wet bar. Fred walked around the living room, taking it all in. He openedbathroom drawers and seemed pleased to recognize things inside. In a bedroom closet he found his favorite bathrobe. The faithful old slipper puppy roused itself to drag out his felt moccasins. He bent down and patted the slipper puppy on its head and was actually grinning when he closed the closet door. He went back to the bathroom and called up archival images of himself in the mirror. They were all there. “I’m still handsome,” he called out to her. Finally, Fred wandered to a stout-looking door on a wall of the main room. “Another closet?”
    “I don’t think so,” Mary said.
    The door was sealed like an airlock hatch and seemed much too heavy-duty for what he found inside. “A sauna?”
    “Look closer.”
    Fred climbed into the sauna, fully clothed, and sat on a