here. What would you have me do, become a nun?”
“It hasn’t even been a year!” I screamed. “If you’re so desperate, why not just pay for it?”
“You stupid waka,” she said, leaning forward. She was in her wedding dress — bright red — and seated before the changing mirror. “What do you know of love?”
“Papai loved you,” I said, because I believed it.
Mother scrunched her face, like she’d accidentally caught a whiff of the verde. “Your papai is dead.”
“Stop saying that!”
She gave me a pitying look. She raised her hands like she might embrace me, but I flinched and she rested them again in her lap. “Oh, filha,” she said. “Won’t you let it go? Your mamãe is about to be married.”
“Papai was right,” I said, standing. “Better to die than get old like this.”
I used to love my mother, you understand.
Some days, I’m almost sure she used to love me.
The revelation of my second piece of public art happens far more successfully than my first.
Just like I guessed, Queen Oreste escorts an even-more-dazzling Enki through the streets of the verde. Enki is smiling and silent, as though he knows that after his face and his words and his kiss have been on the holos nonstop for the last day all he really needs to do is let us look at him. On the tiny holo in my room (I couldn’t bear to watch this with Mother), I wonder if his eyes look even brighter, his lips even redder. I wonder which mods he’s picked already, and which he’ll choose as his year goes on. It’s one of the chief benefits of being summer king — a license to receive the rare and expensive self-modification technology that even the Aunties don’t have much access to. He could make his skin glow like a lantern, he could access holos and feeds with his contracting pupils, he could even use a simple twitch of his fingers to steer his own pod through the tunnels of the city. Those are all the mods I’ve heard of the summer kings using, but watching Enki now I wonder if he will bother with any of them. From the beginning, Enki has lived to surprise us. To pull on the turbans of the Aunties and laughingly subvert their every desire. How would his mods be any different? For the first time, I wonder how many mods exist in the cities that don’t have laws against them like Palmares Três. What could Enki turn himself into, given the opportunity?
But for now he walks through his old neighborhood, smiling as though he doesn’t notice the catinga that the Queen guards against with a scented handkerchief. Tens of thousands line the streets, cheering as he walks past. A lot of wakas, of course, but even more grandes, and I’m surprised at how much they all seem to love him. I’ve seen thefootage of other moon years, and now I’m sure of it — Enki is our most popular summer king in even grande memory, let alone waka. I don’t see Gil, but then I didn’t expect to. None of my pings are from him either, though I’ve got about twenty from what seems like my entire class. Including Bebel. She could hardly help but gloat over my holo debut last night. Every time a caster starts to show the footage, I switch. I know what I must have looked like, standing alone while watching the two of them. More important, I know what I felt like, and I don’t need to feel that ever again, let alone thirty times an hour.
I wish Gil were with me, but prior experience tells me he’s probably sleeping it off. And when he wakes up? Will he move on from Enki, like he does most everyone else, or will their relationship turn into something deeper?
But, no, I won’t anticipate anything until it happens — everyone knows that summer kings screw like mayflies.
I turn back to my holo, make the volume amphitheater loud, and wait for what only I know is about to happen.
Enki pauses a moment before stepping out onto the terraces. I could swear he’s waiting for the flitting cameras to have time to zoom over the water and stabilize
“It hasn’t even been a year!” I screamed. “If you’re so desperate, why not just pay for it?”
“You stupid waka,” she said, leaning forward. She was in her wedding dress — bright red — and seated before the changing mirror. “What do you know of love?”
“Papai loved you,” I said, because I believed it.
Mother scrunched her face, like she’d accidentally caught a whiff of the verde. “Your papai is dead.”
“Stop saying that!”
She gave me a pitying look. She raised her hands like she might embrace me, but I flinched and she rested them again in her lap. “Oh, filha,” she said. “Won’t you let it go? Your mamãe is about to be married.”
“Papai was right,” I said, standing. “Better to die than get old like this.”
I used to love my mother, you understand.
Some days, I’m almost sure she used to love me.
The revelation of my second piece of public art happens far more successfully than my first.
Just like I guessed, Queen Oreste escorts an even-more-dazzling Enki through the streets of the verde. Enki is smiling and silent, as though he knows that after his face and his words and his kiss have been on the holos nonstop for the last day all he really needs to do is let us look at him. On the tiny holo in my room (I couldn’t bear to watch this with Mother), I wonder if his eyes look even brighter, his lips even redder. I wonder which mods he’s picked already, and which he’ll choose as his year goes on. It’s one of the chief benefits of being summer king — a license to receive the rare and expensive self-modification technology that even the Aunties don’t have much access to. He could make his skin glow like a lantern, he could access holos and feeds with his contracting pupils, he could even use a simple twitch of his fingers to steer his own pod through the tunnels of the city. Those are all the mods I’ve heard of the summer kings using, but watching Enki now I wonder if he will bother with any of them. From the beginning, Enki has lived to surprise us. To pull on the turbans of the Aunties and laughingly subvert their every desire. How would his mods be any different? For the first time, I wonder how many mods exist in the cities that don’t have laws against them like Palmares Três. What could Enki turn himself into, given the opportunity?
But for now he walks through his old neighborhood, smiling as though he doesn’t notice the catinga that the Queen guards against with a scented handkerchief. Tens of thousands line the streets, cheering as he walks past. A lot of wakas, of course, but even more grandes, and I’m surprised at how much they all seem to love him. I’ve seen thefootage of other moon years, and now I’m sure of it — Enki is our most popular summer king in even grande memory, let alone waka. I don’t see Gil, but then I didn’t expect to. None of my pings are from him either, though I’ve got about twenty from what seems like my entire class. Including Bebel. She could hardly help but gloat over my holo debut last night. Every time a caster starts to show the footage, I switch. I know what I must have looked like, standing alone while watching the two of them. More important, I know what I felt like, and I don’t need to feel that ever again, let alone thirty times an hour.
I wish Gil were with me, but prior experience tells me he’s probably sleeping it off. And when he wakes up? Will he move on from Enki, like he does most everyone else, or will their relationship turn into something deeper?
But, no, I won’t anticipate anything until it happens — everyone knows that summer kings screw like mayflies.
I turn back to my holo, make the volume amphitheater loud, and wait for what only I know is about to happen.
Enki pauses a moment before stepping out onto the terraces. I could swear he’s waiting for the flitting cameras to have time to zoom over the water and stabilize
Similar Books
