Neverending

27

I don't hesitate.

'Yes,' I almost shout. 'Yes! Can we go there now?'

'Certainly.'

My wristband pulses green twice, then I'm rerouted back to the main pathway. My stomach growls at me, as if in response to my moving in the opposite direction from coffee. I do love coffee and I am quite tired. But I'm desperate to see Seb.

'Are you thirsty and tired?'

I look down at my wristband, whose screen is showing me the Breakfast Barn, then Seb's name. A third screen shows my vigour score which is laughably low.

'I'll, emm – I'll get something on the way,' I say, tapping Seb's name.

'Seb lives near Vita Fons. Would you like me to order you a breakfast burrito and an oat level half-caff?'

So now everyone at Terrafirme thinks I love microwave burritos.

'Just the coffee, thanks. And could you make it a full-caff?'

'I can.'

I can't believe I'm finally going to see someone I know. And not just someone: Seb.

Images of the last twenty-four hours scroll through my mind as I follow the haptics. I have an image of Seb in my mind, too, and it's of him smiling – something that he does very well, and often. I didn't know how close I was feeling to very lost but the feeling of approaching my oldest friend makes me sharply aware.

I glance at my wristband. I should be there in five minutes.

I think about our conversation on the phone yesterday and anxiety starts to nudge me. I don't feel it much but when I do, it's one of those feelings that pushes against my heart more than my mind. Worry isn't words in my head. For me, it's a reminder of dis-ease in the very centre of my chest.

Never before in my life have I felt nervous about seeing Seb. It feels weird as hell and I have no idea what to do with it. But I suppose I don't need to hold this feeling for too long because I'm almost at this place.

I notice the landscape has changed. The duplexes are similar to mine but they are in rows, rather than dotted around clusters of trees. I notice white sand in places on the path, dispersing as I move along it. It falls to the edges and is funnelled down each side, disappearing into small grates in the grass.

I take a right, off the main pathway. At the end of the road, I see the number I'm looking for.

          Number 3077, Deimos

          Sebastian Laurier

          Susie Delaforce

At the doorway, on the ground, there is a white paper bag with a pink sticky-note on it. I do a double take when I see that someone has written Tinder on the sticky. Cautiously, I pick up the bag. The heft and movement inside tells me it's carrying liquid. I take out a fibre cup and can't help but smile. It's a full-caff level oat from Vita Fons. I feel like I have a butler. I look down at my wrist, unsure of who to thank.

Just then, the front door slides open.