Hyperthought by M. M. Buckner Read Free Book Online

an opportunity when he sees one.”
    “What opportunity?” I leaned closer to examine those incisions in his forehead.
    We ordered another liter of wine and drank it all, but I could not get Jin to answer plainly. He talked about waking up his brain so he could choose the right course of action. I thought he laughed too much. At times, he seemed manic.
    “Which would you rather have, Jolie—peace or freedom? We don’t even know if we have a choice! But soon I’ll know. Soon I’ll understand what I’m supposed to do with my life. I’m going to know everything!”
    Sometimes he spoke so loudly, the other patrons turned to stare. I felt growing alarm for his state of mind. People around us were whispering. Even the cyberservants kept away. When he overturned his wine, I reached across the tablecloth and caught both his hands. His skin felt feverish. By degrees he calmed down, then grew sad. Finally, he spoke in a husky whisper, “Father expects me to fail. But he’s wrong, Jolie. He’ll see.”
    “But Jin,” I said, “letting Merida dice up your brain is unzipped. How can your father go for this?”
    Jin tossed his head arrogantly. A sudden rancor burned in his eyes. “My father approves. That’s all.” He glanced at our half-eaten dinners and signaled a waiter. “Pet, this place is dreary. Let’s find some music.”
    I awoke the next morning in Jin’s arms. We had consumed untold amounts of wine, and in my residual intoxicated haze, everything seemed golden. Jin’s hotel room. Dazzling sun through the skylight Satin pillows on the burnished brass bed. Jin’s body. His arms and legs enveloped me in moist, salty warmth. I felt content Protected. Utterly complete. I didn’t want to move from the shelter of his embrace, not ever. Still, some part of me knew this was just female hormones urging me to bond. I knew Jin wouldn’t feel the same. He’d slept with me on a whim. Any moment he would wake up and break the spell.
    “Mmm,” he murmured, moving against me. I stiffened and turned away, preparing for the break. But he moved closer. His tongue touched my ear. His chest slid firm and slick against my back, and his loins pressed my buttocks. We made love again, and slept and when we woke much later, the sunlight had turned lavender.
    “Want to see something extraordinary?” He was munching sporebread and marmalade, dropping crumbs among the satin sheets. We were sitting naked, cross-legged in the unmade bed, facing each other across a breakfast tray. He seemed much calmer.
    I said, “Sure.”
    He leaned back and touched a key in a small hidden console. All at once, the six walls of our hotel room began to flicker with static electricity. I realized they were flat-panel displays. Slowly, the beige panels transformed into scenes viewed through windows. We seemed to be gazing from a lofty tower at the pale white surface of Godthaab—sans the smog. The details were much clearer than in real life.
    “What is this, metavision? It’s preter-strange.” I stood up and twirled around in the bed to see it all.
    “It’s a live transmission from the surface. Watch, don’t overturn the tea!”
    He laughed and grabbed the pot when I jumped up and down on the springy mattress. I didn’t care about the tea. The view was fantastic. Surface Godthaab was not a wild place—it was an engineer’s dream of order. I’d seen it before, though not from this angle, and never this clearly. Paved runways alternated with long straight rows of surface equipment—communication towers, air exchange compressors, photovoltaic arrays. Everything had been spray-coated white—that was Greenland’s style. I could see drogue machines and surfsuited workers moving sluggishly among the equipment. Dominating the landscape, three vast domes swelled like glistening jellies.
    “Plenty cool!” I spun around, enchanted. But then I noticed the angle of the sunlight. Late afternoon. Much later than I thought. I sat back down and wiped my