“Shit,” he said, dragging out the single syllable—annoyed that he hadn’t figured it out earlier. As well as its integrated power supply, the cube had its own processor, one too powerful to run unchecked without heat sinks.
“Who were you talking to?” Troy asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” JD said. He scrolled through the phone settings. Processor usage had been uncapped, so he knocked it back down to 0.3 percent, remembering the warning message from the night before.
Brrrrrrt.
JD took the call on speaker again: “Yellow?”
There was breathing on the other end, rasping loud across the line. “One hundred thousand,” Kali said. “Bring the cube to me, and you’ll get your money.”
“Bring it to you? In the city ruins, where there’s no surveillance, and you have an army of teenage psychopaths? No, that won’t work. I’ll give it to Soo-hyun, and no one else. Have them meet me at the technopark, in the central square. One o’clock.” JD hung up without waiting for a response. His head began to throb with his pulse, so he snatched his phone off the floor and sat up against the headboard. Already the phone felt cooler.
“JD,” Troy said. Not “Jules,” not even “Julius,” but “JD.” He knew he was in trouble. “What are you doing? Who are these people you’re fucking with?”
“Don’t worry about me,” JD said. He sat on the edge of the bed, back turned to Troy.
“I only ever see you when you’re in over your head; of course I worry.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“What did you just say?” Troy said.
JD shook his head and stood, searching for his underpants before remembering all his clothes were still in the bathroom.
He sighed. “You only see me when I’m in the shit because that’s the only time we can talk. Otherwise I come around and it’s awkward. It seems like I’m the one who’s coping, even though you’re the one that broke up with me.”
“You know why I did that.”
“I’m not sure that I do.” JD headed to the bathroom.
“I can’t sit by and watch you get caught up in all this criminal shit,” Troy called out. “I want to be with you, but the you that has a job, that gives a damn about his future.”
JD dressed quickly, smell of last night’s clothes filling his nostrils as soon as he was dressed. He met Troy in the hallway between rooms. “Why do you think I do this shit?” he said. “There are no jobs, there’s no fucking future,” he spat the words out, angrier than he’d meant, and Troy stepped back as though struck.
Troy crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t believe that.”
“I do, though. I have to make a future for myself any way I can. But sure, you go and teach philosophy to students who’ll wind up working four jobs just to make ends meet. When all this comes tumbling down, at least they’ll be able to chat about Kierkegaard while they’re eating rats around a bonfire.”
“That won’t happen.”
“Why not? None of this is sustainable. Corporate capitalism is built on a foundation of infinite growth despite our very finite resources. We’re on track to consume our way to an unlivable planet, and no one seems to care.” JD jabbed a finger toward the front door: “But I will steal from every person out there to provide for my mother and myself, and for you, if you’d let me love you.”
Tears welled in JD’s eyes. He turned and walked to the apartment entrance.
“You can’t provide anything from prison. You can’t provide if you’re dead,” Troy said, but he said it quiet. It was an argument neither of them wanted to win.
His socks were still damp, so JD balled them up and shoved them into one of the outer pockets of his rucksack. He put his shoes on, plastic insole rubbing rough against the pale skin of his feet.
“The threat of prison might work on you, on most people, but I see people struggling every second of their lives, still stuck living on the streets. I look at all these poor assholes going to the same job they hate every day of their lives, and the reality of that is just as bad.”
Troy shook his head sadly, his brows furrowed. “That’s life, Jules.”
JD shrugged. “Why? It’s a shitty life. You’re lucky because you love teaching, and I love that about you, but how many other people can say the same about their jobs?”
Troy sat on the edge of the couch, resting his hands on his knees. “How many times have we had this same fight?” he asked, one corner of his mouth curved in a partial smile.
JD put his baseball cap on and pulled it down low. He unlocked the front door and rested his hand on the door handle. “A dozen times, easy,” JD said.
“And it always ends with you leaving.”
“One way or another,” JD said. He looked to Troy and the other man lowered his eyes.
“Will you really go legit, with your hundred thousand euro?”
“I don’t know,” JD admitted. “I need to find a specialist for my knee, get the surgery, cover Mom’s bills while it’s healing. I’ll have to wait and see how much is left after all that.”
Troy nodded. “So you were lying the other day? Telling me what I wanted to hear?”
JD opened the door and stepped out onto the landing. “I want to be the person you want me to be, but I’m not.”
“Let me help you try,” Troy said.
JD pulled the heavy door closed with a resounding dhoom, putting the city between them.
JD walked for blocks with little but the constant beating of the rain to keep him company. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his windbreaker, fingering the near-empty envelope of cash. He had kept a hundred euro for himself when he paid off the cleaner, and after the fight with Troy he felt like spending it on something frivolous.
