Join by Steve Toutonghi Read Free Book Online

intonation and inflection, to make the sentence sound as though it’s being spoken naturally, but Rope does it effortlessly, in a way that adds emphasis but seems perfectly natural.
    â€œThe problem that I have, at its core, its fundamental essence, isn’t with me,” Rope Three says. “It’s not about my existence.”
    â€œIt’s with you,” says Rope Fourteen. “The ‘other.’”
    â€œIn the beginning,” Rope Three says, “when Join was first introduced, and for a long time after, I assumed we’d all join. That we’d all become one single individual. Can you imagine that? No more other. No more competition. The largest category of risk for our species—the risk of competitive self-destruction—effectively zeroed out.”
    The waitress arrives, not Apple One but a tall, fair-skinned woman with short dark hair and straight bangs. Chance doesn’t recognize her. He guesses that Rope Fourteen has used his retinal screens to order on the net. But the waitress doesn’t ask who wanted what. She sets the plates down—an omelet in front of Rope Fourteen, fruit and yogurt for Rope Three, the turmeric bear claw for Chance. Chance gets the doppio; Rope Fourteen has drip coffee; Rope Three has green tea.
    â€œAnything else?” the waitress asks Chance.
    â€œNo, thank you,” he says.
    Chance lifts his doppio, blows on it to cool it. Takes a sip. Rope Three nods at him and has a bit of the fruit and yogurt, blueberries and chunks of strawberry. He apparently enjoys it. He has another bite and smiles at Chance.
    Chance takes a second drink of his doppio. He has an incipient perception that something significant has happened. He doesn’t speak. He tries to clear his mind, to coax it forward.
    Rope Three leans toward him, across the table. “But in the last couple of decades”—he picks up the thread of his earlier thought—“the science has really started clearing up, hasn’t it? So we know there’s no conceivable way to do a completely safe join above one hundred. In fact, with our current understanding we can really only manage about twenty safely.” He sits back and sips his tea. Chance’s doppio is delicious. Rope Fourteen has already finished half his omelet. He doesn’t appear to be listening.
    â€œSo there will always be an other,” Rope Three says. “That is my problem. That is why I am disappointed.” He draws the last word out slowly, then says, “I am moved to change the situation.”
    The avuncular smile again. “I sound like a diodrama villain, don’t I?” he asks.
    Chance is surprised by the question. “Why a villain?”
    â€œWell, obviously . . .” It’s Rope Fourteen who replies, his mouth full. He swallows his bite of omelet. “I like to kill drives.” His gaze is hungry.
    Chance is not hungry and is regretting the meeting. “I think this is more than I was expecting,” he says.
    â€œVery likely,” says Rope Three.
    â€œI don’t know where you’re going with this,” Chance says. “I just wanted to ask about—my situation.”
    â€œYes, I guessed that, Chance,” says Rope Three. “And so I put together a demonstration that I hope will help you.”
    As he had the night before, Chance feels the prickling of fear. Something about Rope is broken. Chance has seen pathological joins. He’s treated a few. Chance says, “Apple told me you might have used a fixative.”
    Both Ropes regard him placidly. Rope Three says, “That would be illegal. And dangerous. If Apple said that, she shouldn’t have.”
    â€œI didn’t believe it when she said it.”
    â€œThank you,” say both Ropes, in unison.
    â€œBut I do think something is going on with you.”
    â€œOh,” says Rope Three, amused. “You want to treat me?”
    Chance takes a deep