Entanglements by Sheila Williams

Author:Sheila Williams [Williams, Sheila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MIT Press
Published: 2020-08-21T00:00:00+00:00

I was weightless with excitement as the elevator dropped to the first floor. Sofia Vasquez in eight days! Photos for my forum! Videos! And I’d have to cook something, too; I couldn’t let her bring the entire dinner. But what to serve a master chef? I’d wanted to try grilled limes wrapped in shrimp paper with some of the heirloom tomato dust I’d been saving. Would a golden dragon mist be too forward? Maybe splurge on a pork-marbled turkey culture for the entrée? I hardly noticed when the doors opened, I was too busy reviewing my greatest hits. A dessert, definitely a dessert. When the doors started to shudder close, Tate held them. “This is us.” he said. “Where to?”

I didn’t care. “Home?” This was already one of the best nights of my life. As far as I was concerned, we could be done and I could start planning for her visit.

“So soon?” He was horrified. “But we haven’t eaten.” He followed me through the door. “And you said things were going so very well.”

“No, that’s what you said. Right before you had a meltdown in the most famous restaurant in town.” I paused near the street. “What was that all about anyway?”

“Sorry, yes, that was bad. I need to find a way to make up for it.”

“Not on my account, you don’t.”

“On my account, Dakarai.” His eyes were pleading. “Don’t let this evening become a disaster. I still have plenty of time.”

I wondered what the consequences might be for Tate. Reprogramming? Memory editing? What would it feel like to have someone messing around in my head? I realized then that I cared about him. He was playful and honest and smart. I liked his flirting style and the way he said my name. He made me feel noticed. This was crazy! I’d known him how long? A couple of hours? But somehow, I’d stopped thinking of him as a playbot. A made thing.

What had he said when he was high? That he wasn’t even conscious? No I, here. But he had me fooled.

“Dinner then,” I said. “Where?”

A cab pulled up to the curb. Its right headlight winked in greeting. “Delany?” the drivebot said, drawling like a clarinet. “Joyful party of two?”

“I called from the restaurant,” Tate said to me, then waved to the bot. “That’s us.”

Its front grille crinkled into a broad smile, revealing the fins of its faux radiator “Hop in, friends.” The passenger door popped open.

I shot Tate a questioning glance.

“It’s a surprise.” He nudged the small of my back, propelling me forward. “Trust me.”

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