WATT STUDIED THE party, which swirled and flowed wildly around him, with unabashed astonishment.
A black-and-white parquet dance floor sprawled on each side of the canal, reminding Watt of a shining chessboard. A hundred languages fell discordantly on his ears, too many people speaking at once for Nadia to even bother translating. Above him soared the two massive towers of The Mirrors, rising up into the darkness to new dazzling heights.
For the first time, Watt felt like he finally understood the name; this was like a dream city, full of mirrors and reflections. Every last detail on one of the towers—every archway, every glittering square of glass, every curve in the railing of a balcony—had been cunningly doubled on the other side, in alabaster carbonite or smooth dark nyostone. Even the movements of the serving staff seemed choreographed to echo one another across the expanse of the canal.
Everywhere Watt looked were women in black or white gowns, men in designer tuxes. There wasn’t a single stitch of color in the whole evening, not even the bright red of a cherry at the bar. The effect was striking, like a work of art—as if Watt had stepped into one of those old two-dimensional holos where everything was rendered in shades of gray.
Nadia, what do you think Cynthia meant by all that, earlier? He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way she’d asked him to stay—and kissed him. What would he do when he saw her again? He felt a feverish anxiety at the thought, guilt and confusion roiling through him all at once.
“You know what it meant, Watt,” Nadia replied, whispering the words into his eartennas.
Watt was startled into alertness. Nadia sounded accusatory. Did I do something wrong?
“All I know is that the situation has changed, and that it’s becoming increasingly difficult for me to anticipate the outcome.”
Girls are always complicated, he thought, a bit resentfully.
“People aren’t like tech, Watt. They aren’t predictable, and they malfunction far more readily.”
That’s for damn sure.
Cynthia had told him that actions spoke louder than words, but what did that mean when Watt’s actions were reactive instead of proactive? He hadn’t felt in control for a very long time, and he wondered, suddenly, if it was his own fault.
He’d met Leda at the airport earlier, fully prepared to find her angry and scheming—they were flying over on Avery’s family’s plane, and Watt assumed that would make her tense. But Leda had been so relaxed, she didn’t even comment on his lateness. She just turned to Watt when he arrived and told him it was a five-hour flight, and what movie did he want to watch together? When her hand kept brushing his on the armrest, Watt hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t moved his hand either.
They’d barely seen Avery, or anyone else, the entire flight, but Watt had found that he didn’t really care.
Nadia, he decided to ask, do you think Leda trusts me yet?
“It’s hard for me to estimate emotional states, except for yours,” Nadia replied. “Anything I said about Leda’s feelings would be pure speculation. It’s easier for me to track your state of mind, since I have years of data on you. Which is how I know, for instance, that you like Leda.”
It was the last thing he’d expected her to say.
No I don’t! Leda had drugged him and manipulated him and blackmailed him, and just because she’d made him laugh a few times—just because she was fun to kiss—didn’t mean that Watt liked her.
“Evidence points to the contrary. When you’re with her, you exhibit all the typical physical signs of attraction: your heart rate speeds up, your voice deepens, and then, of course, there’s—”
That doesn’t count, he thought furiously, interrupting. Pinwheels of sparks flew from an enormous fire sculpture out into the night. Like you said, it’s just data, and besides, physical attraction has nothing to do with liking.
“You’ve mimicked her motions and gestures. Your blood rushes to the surface when you’re near her, which, in over half of studies, has been linked to formation of emotional bonds,” Nadia continued relentlessly, “and you keep asking me about her, which—”
You don’t get it, okay? he snapped. How can you understand something you don’t even feel?
Nadia fell silent at that.
“Watt!” Leda appeared at his side, looking stunning in a white Grecian-style gown. “I’ve been looking for you. Calliope is here.”
Watt’s eyes flicked in the direction Leda was pointing. Atlas stood there with the girl from the photos. She looked lean and tan and ruthless; her dark hair spilling over her golden shoulders, her black dress skimming lightly over her form. And it all clicked ruthlessly into place.
“Are you spying on Calliope because she’s with Atlas?” Watt asked slowly. Was this Atlas and Avery all over again? Was Watt just the filler, the time killer—a meaningless distraction, while Leda tried all the while to get the guy she actually wanted?
“Yes, of course,” she said impatiently.
Watt was stunned at how angry he felt. Well, Leda hadn’t meant anything to him either, he reminded himself.
“It’s killing Avery,” Leda went on, and there was a strange note in her voice—a fierce protectiveness, folded in with concern for Avery—that silenced the high-pitched buzzing in Watt’s brain.
“Hold on,” he said slowly. “Let me get this straight. You’re spying on Calliope because she’s with Atlas, because you want Atlas to be with Avery?”
Leda flinched. “I know it all must seem weird to you, but I can’t bear to see Avery hurt. Besides, if this Calliope girl really is hiding something big, then Atlas has a right to the truth.”
Watt still didn’t understand. “I thought you and Avery weren’t speaking.” He felt like an ass, inserting himself into girl drama. But he needed to know.
Leda made an impatient, dismissive gesture. “That’s old news, we’re fine now.” She grinned. “Nadia isn’t on her A game, if you didn’t already know that.”
“But we avoided Avery on the plane today— I thought—”
Leda laughed, making him feel even more foolish. “Avery was avoiding you, Watt. Because for some reason she thinks you’re upset with her. Besides, I thought it might be more fun, sitting just us,” she added, in a slightly less certain tone.
“Oh,” was all he could think to say. He was still trying to understand this new world where Calliope was competing with Avery for Atlas; where Leda was okay with Avery and Atlas dating, and was being considerate of his feelings. He wondered where it left them.
Leda’s arm tightened on his. “Who is that, with her?”
Watt lifted his gaze back to Calliope. She’d left Atlas, almost furtively, and walked to where another woman stood at the edge of the terrace.
Next to him, Leda was muttering at her contacts to zoom in. Watt didn’t need to say anything because Nadia had already focused in on the woman. She looked like a slightly older version of Calliope, her features similar but more deeply etched by time and cynicism.
“Avery told me Calliope lives with her mom,” Leda offered. “That must be her, right?”
They glanced at each other, clearly getting the same idea at the same moment. “Watt—could Nadia do facial-reg on the mom?” Leda asked.
Already running it, Nadia replied, still huffy. She’d switched from voice to text, layering the words over Watt’s vision as if they were an incoming flicker.
I really am sorry.
It’s okay. As you so aptly put it, I don’t have any feelings for you to hurt.
Watt knew what she said was true, and yet for some reason, it made him inexplicably sad.
He watched as Calliope and her mom kept talking. At first their expressions were clearly tense; their gestures rigid and tight, loaded with significance. Then Calliope’s mom said something, and Calliope smiled uncertainly. Nadia, are you picking up what they’re saying?
Nadia sent him a transcript of their conversation, without any commentary of her own. When he read it, Watt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Leda,” he started to say, but she shushed him impatiently.
“I’m listening! LipRead,” she added, in answer to his questioning look.
LipRead was an application designed for the hearing impaired. Watt wondered why he’d never thought to use it to eavesdrop.
He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed by Leda’s brilliance, or terrified.
He leaned forward again, to watch them more closely—and Nadia sent him the facial-reg results on Calliope’s mother.
“Leda,” he croaked, grabbing her elbow and dragging her farther away, despite her protests. “You’re going to want to see this.”