The City Within

Chapter 2

Two

The auto rolled up to the gate outside the Gloryside Condos compound.

Grace waited for the sensor to read her metrics and open the gate once it confirmed her identity. Since her mother had moved to this singles condo, Grace had been registered as her guest.

“Welcome to Gloryside again, Mr. Jane,” the sensor chirped.

When Grace scowled at him, Heron flashed a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I guess I come here more than you do.”

A pang of guilt hit her. He wasn’t wrong, exactly. It was true that her mother came to her home more often than she visited the condo.

If she was honest with herself, it was because of Henry. She’d never been entirely comfortable with her mother’s AI companion.

Grace pinged her mother. >

There was always the danger that her mother was naked and occupied. Despite her age, she was an energetic woman.

The auto rolled to a stop in front of 4323.

The door to the condo flew open before Grace had even fully exited the auto. “Gracie! What a lovely surprise!”

Caroline was a couple inches shorter than Grace, with her bleached hair pulled up in a high ponytail that fell coquettishly over one shoulder. The opposite shoulder was bare, the oversized shirt drooping on that side, revealing sharp collarbones.

Caroline opened her arms, ready to give Grace a warm reception. But then she saw Heron stepping out of the auto behind her and her face really lit up.

“Janie! It’s wonderful to see you, handsome boy! I didn’t realize you were working with Gracie.”

“We just discovered the happenstance in the auto,” Heron said.

At least Heron hadn’t lied only to Grace. That improved her mood slightly.

It wasn’t a lie, her mind corrected. He didn’t purposely deceive you. There’d been no need to divulge the information.

If Grace was honest with herself, she suspected there was much about Heron Jane that he hadn’t gotten around to telling her yet.

Something inside her unclenched at this, and a stir of something—excitement, maybe—rippled through her.

The hug Grace expected from her mother turned into a brief shoulder squeeze as the woman moved past her to clasp Heron’s hands.

“Did you come by for a morning game of mahjong?” her mother asked, her eyes never leaving Heron’s face.

“We aren’t here for mahjong,” Grace said stiffly. The heat quadrupled as she stood in the direct sun. It was becoming difficult to think clearly. “We came to talk about Lenorie.”

“That’s my Gracie. Work, work, work,” Caroline said to Heron with an air of conspiracy. She leaned in close and pretended to whisper, “One could hope your influence would loosen her up a bit.”

She accompanied that innuendo with an elbow nudge into Heron’s ribs.

“Mother!”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “All right, come in already. I made cherry-chip scones and I’ve got that Venetian blue tea you like, Janie.”

Grace gestured toward the condo’s open door. “After you, Janie.”

“Don’t mind her,” her mother said. “She was an only child. She never learned how to share Mommy’s affections.”

The muscles in Grace’s back tensed. She turned and threw a nervous look over her shoulder at the street around them. The shining white façades of the condos with their cheerful yellow trim beamed back at her. The white auto sped away toward the gate.

She saw no one. Then why did she feel like she was being watched?

“Gracie, do you want tea?” her mother called from the kitchen.

Grace reluctantly entered the condo and closed the door behind her. “No. I’ve already had a bullet and a half this morning.”

Her mother groaned. “How can you drink that? Your father was the koffee drinker. You must have his stomach. If I drink anything that strong, it burns me alive from the inside.”

Grace regarded the neat kitchen off to the left. Above the stove sat a dual-armed ChefMate resembling the one Grace had at home, the metallic arms suspended, waiting to fulfill their programmed menu at the designated time.

Her mother filled two mugs with hot water from the dispenser. Given the earthy, uneven quality to the mugs, she wondered if her mother had made them herself. The woman was always joining art classes, architecture classes, exercise classes—classes of all kinds, really. She seemed to have an insatiable appetite for hobbies and meeting new people.

Grace wanted to keep up with all her mother’s hobbies, show an interest in her life, but asking her about anything was a dangerous game.

Her mother was a chatterbox.

She needed only the slightest invitation to fall into a hole of personal updates, gossip, and tangents that would carry them long into the evening.

Grace had budgeted only thirty minutes for this interlude.

Heron was already at the four-person table, settling in as if he’d spent many a night here.

Her mother presented him with a steaming mug, a wide smile, and a cherry-chip scone centered on a white plate. “Arjun, Heron, and I play mahjong on this table all the time. Henry is our fourth, but you could join us.”

Grace’s eyes swept the apartment, on the lookout for her mother’s robot companion, but she didn’t see him. She wondered if it was too much to hope he was at a repair shop or something.

“I’m not a very good player,” Grace admitted. “I suspect the three of you would destroy me.”

“Not at first,” her mother said, taking a seat beside Heron and grinning mischievously over the rim of her mug. “We’d bolster your confidence first. Wait until you relax.”

“How generous, Mother.”

“Who did you think you got your generosity from?” she said. To Heron, she explained, “She’s serious and a thinker like her father, but I’ve bestowed many amiable traits on her.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Heron said, matching her flirtation for flirtation.

“Did you know that Heron’s boyfriend is a s*x worker?” her mother asked as casually as one says “It’ll rain this evening.”

“She’s aware.” Heron’s smile twitched.

Grace arched a brow. “Sorry. Why is that relevant?”

She took the third seat at table.

“It means they’re open to experimenting. You—”

“Mother, no. I’ve told you, discussing my s*x life in front of anyone is inappropriate. Heron and I work together.”

“Mother,” she echoed, leaning toward Heron. “She only calls me Mother when she’s angry.”

“Mother.”

“It’s not inappropriate to talk about s*x, it’s healthy.”

“Not when my subordinate is involved.”

“Mm, subordinate,” Heron repeated. “Careful, Gray. I find dominance play very satisfying.”

Her mother giggled. “You need some release in your life.”

“Davion just died.”

“Four months ago, and he wouldn’t care as long as you’re happy.”

Kaiden just died, she thought. But she refused to invoke her son’s name in such a conversation.

“Arjun—or Heron—could show you a good time.”

“Why not both of us?” Heron said, his grin wicked. “At the same time.”

Her mother didn’t hear this quip.

“It’d be no strings attached, and then you could relax a little more. Honey, I only want you to be happy.”

Grace pinged Heron. >

> she wrote before Heron’s text even appeared on the lenscape.

The text was redacted, and instead he wrote, >

To you, she thought. >

She could practically hear the resigned sigh across the lenscape.

>

“I don’t see what’s holding you back,” Caroline said. “You’re a beautiful young woman. Janie, tell her.”

“Very beautiful,” he said, and Grace saw the tinge of red highlight his cheeks.

“Mother, you might use s*x to solve all of your problems, but I don’t.”

Caroline turned to Heron again. “Ouch. Vicious.”

“Again, we’re coworkers,” Grace said patiently, forcing her leg to still under the table.

Her mother lit up. “Oh, speaking of coworkers, has Adams asked you out yet?”

Grace frowned. “No. Why would he?”

Heron visibly stiffened beside her. “Do you like him, Caroline?”

“He’s very attractive, don’t you think? He’s tall and muscular like Arjun. I would think he’d be your type.”

Heron squinted his eyes in consideration. He had the face of someone trying to find a way to politely disagree. “He strikes me as a bit cold.”

“Cold, not at all!” Caroline continued, unaware. “He visited Gracie every day that she was in the hospital.”

She leaned toward Heron and fake-whispered, “I think he’s loved her for a long time, but he was being respectful of Grace’s marriage. Like Samuel in Sailors & Starships.”

“God, I love that show,” Heron said, lifting his tea to his lips.

“Adams and I are colleagues.” Grace tried to imagine Adams as the pining sort. It was ridiculous.

Her mother arched a brow. “I have a sense about these things. He has plans for you, my love. Wait and see.”

“Monogamy is overrated,” Heron said. “Loyalty has very little to do with where you put your genitalia.”

“Oh, agreed.” Caroline nodded.

If Grace did not seize control of this conversation, they were going to waste their entire thirty minutes. She glanced at her lenscape clock. They had only eight minutes left.

“We need to talk about Lenorie,” Grace interjected, sitting up straighter and using a tone that she hoped would focus her mother’s flippant attention.

“Heavens, Gracie. We’re having a nice teatime here.”

“Tell us about Lenorie so that we can help her.”

Her mother sighed. “Lenorie is a good girl. She comes every week to check on me, and we watch Sailors & Starships together. Such a great show.”

“Do you think the duke will forgive Nadia?” Heron asked, his face a mask of horror.

“He has to. If he doesn’t, what will happen to the district’s supply chain?”

Heron looked ready to ask more but saw Grace’s face. Instead, he took a bite of his cherry-chip scone.

Grace pressed on. “What did she tell you about her brother?”

“That he’s gone missing. She suspects a government plot to silence him since he’s been very vocal about his views on CyTown. I told her to contact you. I was so proud of you for the way you handled that organ company. Vultures.”

Her mother leaned forward and cupped her cheek.

Grace resisted the urge to pull away. When her mother finally released her, she asked, “Has Lenorie ever given you the impression that she’s radical in any way?”

“Oh no.” Caroline tilted her head. “She’s just a girl. A rather silly one at that, but she means well. It’s my impression that it’s her brother who has all the views.”

“You don’t think she would lie or strive for attention?”

“No, I believe her,” her mother replied. “That’s why I told her it was best to talk to you. Your position is a little more secure than, say, Heron’s.”

> Heron wrote.

Grace closed the chat, effectively kicking him off her lenscape. It was hard enough to focus on her mother without the second conversation scrolling along her window.

“All I can tell you about her is that she seems honest, hardworking, and loves her brother very much. It’s only the two of them in the zone. The rest of her family is dead. I believe they died in the 2594 outbreak of C. auris.”

Grace considered this.

“If she’s in trouble, I really hope you’ll help her. I’d hate to lose my Sailors & Starships companion.” She caught Heron’s eye. “Not you, dear, but you’ve been very busy.”

“This is true,” Heron conceded.

Grace realized that Heron must not talk about her to Caroline. Whether this be from loyalty or practicality, she appreciated it. And a swell of affection rose in her.

Feet sounded on the stairs, causing the trio to look up.

There was Henry.

The robot looked perfectly human, as he was designed to do. His limbs probably felt as real as the arm Grace had replaced after the accident, synthetic flesh stretched over titanium bones.

But the brushed-back blond hair and blue eyes, paired with the vapid grin, made him look more like a Boi doll than ever.

There’s not a single thought in that head, her father would have said.

Today the Boi wore only a tight pair of underwear.

Grace didn’t understand why her mother insisted on keeping the doll naked or near naked all the time.

“Hello, Henry,” Caroline said, greeting it with a smile. “We have guests.”

The robot looked from face to face. “Hello, Grace. Hello, Heron. Nice to see you both again.”

Grace forced a smile.

“I’m assuming you’ve finished cleaning upstairs?” Caroline asked, stroking the Boi’s arm.

“Yes, Kitty. Shall I make bread?” Henry offered. “Something to go with your tea?”

“No, my love. We already have scones.” Caroline grinned at Grace. “Kitty is my nickname. Isn’t it adorable?”

“You’re adorable,” Henry said reflexively.

Grace could see the outline of the Boi’s oversized p***s in his speedo. She didn’t find it remotely adorable.

She stood, pushing back her chair. “We should go. Heron, please order the auto. We’ll wait outside.”

“I got Grace a Boi,” Caroline said. “Designed it myself.”

“It’s still in my storage closet,” Grace said, because I can’t find anyone to take it.

Apparently, the machines had to be disposed of properly, and Grace couldn’t return it without a receipt to prove it wasn’t a black-market edition. A receipt which her mother refused to hand over.

“That’s a shame,” Caroline lamented, rising from the table. She bent toward Heron’s ear and whispered, “I got it fully loaded, if you get what I mean.”

Heron pressed his lips together again.

“If you think of anything about Lenorie, message me, okay?”

Caroline caught up to her at the door. She slid a paper bag of scones into Grace’s hands. “You’re still too thin. Eat these. Don’t give them away.”

Grace accepted them. “Did you hear what I said about Lenorie? Anything. Anything at all.”

“Yes, yes, my love. I heard you.” She planted kisses on Grace’s cheeks.

Henry came up behind her and placed an arm around Kitty’s neck.

That was enough for Grace.

She kissed her mother’s cheek and took off down the sunlit walkway toward the street.

Once they were in the auto, Grace looked up from the scone bag in her lap and swore.

“Such language!” Heron said, laughing. “I didn’t know words like that could come from your mouth. Mine, certainly, but yours?”

Grace pressed her fingers into the wrinkles between her brows. “That’s why it looks like you.”

He arched a brow, waiting.

“That’s why the Boi she gave me looks like you. Because she ordered it after meeting you. Damn it, Heron.”

“I’m sorry.” His face folded from recognition into unfettered laughter. “Who knew I was such an inspiration?”