Part 7
Space Beacon
I was still thinking about it during, before and after volleyball. My heart just wasn't in the game. You? Was that addressed to the person she'd have a relationship with? Was that person me? I do like you? If something more happens? What did it all mean?
I couldn't talk to anyone about it. Who would I talk to? Taylor and Sam wouldn't understand, Mama and Papa were Mama and Papa, Natasha was off at college.
I didn't spend the afternoon thinking about the party Taylor was hosting that evening. I spent it with Amy, typing and re-typing and thinking and pondering and deleting.
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Message to: *Emilia
Uh, hi.
I definitely think of you as a friend, Emilia. That's okay.
And I understand you're worried for other people. I'm not sure about that, though; maybe you should just let them worry about their heart?
You've got to have someone you can trust. It's so important. That's what I've come to realise since Natasha's been gone. I really appreciate being able to talk to you.
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Then I dropped the connection and desperately tried to think about that party.
It wasn't until after TV on Monday before I could face Amy again. I stared at my reflection in the black mirror for quite a while before I pressed the button and powered her up. The first place I went to was The Matrix.
Looked like I was on the right side of that one, at least.
There was also a download that didn't work. It took me a moment longer than it should have to realise that it was for DOS machines, and Amy couldn't run it. Then I got a brief surge of pride for even knowing the difference.
C0dez? 100% illegal? That scared me enough to send me straight over to Lake City Local again.
It was a dull night. People were out having fun, I guess. Or in having fun. At any rate, having fun that couldn't be had on a BBS. I mooched around for a while, and then I slumped back to Matrix, where I sent a slightly naive message.
The thought sent a chill down my spine, and I quickly thanked RobFugitive, and then disconnected, staring at the dialer's query box for a while.
There was a new private message for me when I connected to Lake City Local.
And that sent me running straight to the disconnect button again.
Ah, heck with it Half the programs I'd downloaded from The Matrix were probably illegal in some way anyway, and those sirens hadn't come for me yet. I just wanted to read something normal, somewhere. Maybe the Gibson had something.
I gulped. Time to make a decision. After a whole, I knew that I still definitely wasn't up to trying to process Emilia's latest message, so I tried another calling card.
It struck me how quickly the alien quality of the whalesong had drained away. Now it was calming, reassuring, familiar.
OK, I know how this works.
Um.
I thought I knew how this works.
Well, what else was there to do?
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Message to: *Emilia
That sounds pretty dramatic. Is everything okay? What about your family? Can't they help? How will they feel?
No, I've never had to run away from home. Please be okay?
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I waited, biting my nails, tapping my sketchpad with a pencil, but not trying to draw. It didn't take long.
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Message to: *Emilia
You can turn to me! Can't you? Please?
Running away, that's big, that's huge. Don't do anything hasty?
I'm worried about you.
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I waited. Eventually I tried to sketch. Then I tried to write.
Finally, I tried to sleep.