Neverending

24

I don't know what I expected, but it was probably something quite like this.

I'm walking down one of the many pathways towards – well, I'm not sure yet, but I'm assuming some sort of residential area. So far, I've seen the Clearing and the Town Square but not much else. I think back to what I know about Terrafirme, what's actually in here, but my mind fills with a series of marketing-targeted images its garnered over the last few years. I don't think I ever thought I'd be here, so I've never paid it a massive amount of attention.

My walk takes me past so many intersections, I've lost count. I'm only just starting to get an idea of just how big this place truly is. I'm certain I'd be able to reel off how much land it occupies, but they're just stats. Actually being here is something else.

The pathways are, naturally, hyperfricted, so I'm covering about twice as much distance as I usually would without breaking a sweat. I've only ever heard of this stuff, though I know someone who visited Tokyo recently and said they've overlaid almost all of Shinjuku's pedestrian streets in it. I think about the implications on productivity and reflection time as I walk. Hyperfriction was originally designed to reduce commuting time whilst encouraging people to walk. And yeah, I admit – it's great for getting places fast. But what about not rushing?, I think. I'm back in the cemetery with Juliette, her lips on mine for the first time. I'm not sure it would have felt quite as... special, had we been racing along at thirteen kilometres per hour. I'm not even convinced there would've been a right time to kiss her. And then maybe things might have played out differently. No girlfriend due to over-efficiency. Ok, it's a stretch, and there's not much that would have stopped me from trying to kiss her at some point, but still.

As I've gotten older (I can hear Donna sniggering here – I swear, she'll be calling me 'Kid' till I'm 68), I've been increasingly aware that I'm living in a transient time – a time when I can see myself saying goodbye to things that were just a regular part of my growing-up landscape. I've started to notice resentment nudging me every time City Hall makes societal changes to improve productivity. As though being quick at everything is the end game, rather than thinking about what we actually need. As people.

And yeah, it probably sounds ridiculous to be resenting the very ground that I'm walking on but I can't help thinking that we're becoming obsessed with what we can achieve.

I don't want to leave everything from the past behind.

The sky is black now, shadow gap illumination either side of the path being the only thing lighting my way. I catch myself and my suddenly dreary mood. I realise I'm exhausted, and more than a little hungry. Like every actor in every high-octane action movie, I haven't stopped to eat or use the bathroom in an unnaturally long time. I laugh at this. That hunger and tiredness combo – my nemesis. I wonder how you get food in Terrafirme. I'm hoping to god there's something to eat in my... whatever it is I'm heading towards.

It's as though my wristband can sense my mounting despair, or perhaps it's just monitoring my rapidly declining blood sugar levels. It directs me left, finally deviating from the central pathway. Up ahead, I see about fifty low-slung duplexes. I follow the haptics until one doorway pulses green.

Number 1049, Adrastea.

My name's there, under the number. I hesitate, unsure of what to do next.

The front door slides to one side, inviting me in.

There are a thousand things I want to look at, explore and plan. But I can feel myself more or less shutting down with exhaustion. I walk to the fridge, eat the five bao I find nearest the front, sling down half a litre of water and flop onto the chaise in the front window's alcove. I pull a cashmere throw up to my shoulders, close my eyes, and think of Juliette.