“Come on. Please,” he says.
“You don’t need me.”
“Yes, I do. Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.”
“Just go by yourself,” she says.
“I don’t want to. I already spend too much time by myself. We’re humans, Aris. We need social interaction—to see the faces of others, to have meaningful conversations. Without all that, we’re denying our nature. Do you want to deny the essence that makes us human?” he says in one breath.
She realizes that if she does not agree to his request, she will be spending the rest of the day listening to the reasons she should. He is a writer.
“Fine,” she says and sighs. “Meet me at the park.”
Aris leans back on her elbows. The green lawn is strewn with bodies on blankets like hers. Their shiny skin reflects light like solar panels. It is an unusually warm day—a good day to soak up the sun, to memorize its feel before the gray clouds return. The Planner was a true genius for having designed variety into the weather. Unpredictability makes life more interesting—feigned or not.
Dampness seeps through the square blanket. Under her is grass, squishy from the last sprinkle of rain. It smells sweet and earthy. Did grass from before the Last War have the same scent? It’s been engineered to require minimal water. All the plants and trees in Callisto are that way.
In her view is a glistening white building. The Interpreter Center sits alone, the only structure within the vast park. Professor Jacob told her they erase dangerous dreams. During the time she’s been waiting for Benja, no one has gone inside.
The dream from this morning stalks her like a slinky feline. She still cannot remember the precise image—only the feelings. They haunt her and follow her, scratching at the edges of her mind, unraveling the threads that bind it together. She wonders whether she should seek the Interpreter’s service.
Maybe if it gets bad enough. She’s more of the suffer-in-silence type. She raises her face to the sun, letting it warm her skin and chase away the troublesome dream.
A familiar voice rouses her. “Aris?”
She lifts her head and sees a face she does not expect. The bright sun bounces off his skin, making her squint.
“Thane?”
It’s the first time she has seen him in the real world. In a city as vast and populated as Callisto, chance meetings are rare.
“I thought it was you,” he says.
“Walking the park?”
“I just came from a meeting with Professor Jacob.” He gestures toward the white building. “Now I’m off to Griselda.”
“At the Interpreter Center? That place is a mausoleum. I haven’t seen anyone go in. What’s it like in there?”
“It’s not much different than going to the doctor’s office. Everything is white—white walls, white floors, white furniture. It’s a big place, with lots of rooms. But the doors to them were closed, so I couldn’t see what’s behind them.”
“Did you meet an interpreter?”
“Yeah. Her name is Apollina.”
“What’s she like?”
Thane cocks his head to one side. “She doesn’t smile.”
“Is she a droid?”
“No, human. She’s just . . . serious.”
“So her job is to erase dreams?”
“Yeah. She’s like a psychologist for dreams. She interprets them and helps eliminate the harmful ones.”
“I wonder what happens afterward,” she says, thinking of her pesky dreams. “Do you forget your erased dreams entirely? Or do you remember them, but you just don’t get them anymore?”
“I imagine it would be like how Tabula Rasa works. What you don’t remember can no longer affect you.”
“So why did you meet Professor Jacob there? He works for the Interpreter Center?”
“He consults with them for his research. What else can it be?” he says, “You know, you’re nosy.”
“I’m a scientist. I have a curious mind.”
“Your questioning is going to get me in trouble one of these days.”
She laughs. “Fine. We don’t need to talk about your secret mission.” She pauses. “So, what’s at Griselda? A date?”
Griselda is a popular music venue with gray glass walls and a ceiling that projects images of the galaxy. It’s normally filled with young black-clad artist types. She does not see it as a place that would naturally attract Thane. Thirteen point eight percent chance, if she had to guess. That’s for the color of the walls.
He shrugs. “Something like that.”
One side of her lips curls up. She finds Thane’s evasiveness funny.
“Are you waiting for someone?” he asks.
“Yeah. He’s late.”
“I’m not that late,” says the man who has kept her waiting. Aris whips around, sees him, and brightens.
Thane straightens.
Benja offers him his hand. “I’m Benja.”
Thane shifts the briefcase to his left hand. “Hello. I’m Thane. Aris and I work together at the Natural History Museum.”
“You should stop making her do docent duty. She hates it.”
Thane’s eyes widen. Aris kicks Benja’s foot. He shrugs and settles on a spot next to her.
“Hi, beautiful. Sorry I’m late,” Benja says and pecks her on the cheek. Without another word, he roots through her basket, ignoring Thane who is still standing next to Aris.
He makes a face. “I’m starving, and you only have fruit?”
“You said you’d bring cheese from that fancy shop near your place,” Aris says.
“I did? Sorry I was writing and completely forgot.”
She rolls her eyes. “Figures.”
“I brought you something even better.” Benja hands her a package.
“What’s this?” Aris weighs it with her hand.
“Something I found at the gift market. I thought of you when I saw it.”
Aris unwraps it and reveals a small desertscape painting. Her face breaks into a wide smile.
“You told me you like hiking in the nature preserve,” he says.
“I love it! You’re officially forgiven for being late.” A perk of being Benja’s friend, aside from constantly being treated to costly meals at restaurants, is his random thoughtful gestures.
Thane clears his throat, and they both look at him. Aris had momentarily forgotten he was still there. Benja has a way of
