Salvation

“I know some people in HR who deal with Security personnel issues. I can have a quiet word. Best to get this kind of bollocks smoothed out before it even happens.”

“Would you?”

She smiled. “You have to pick up my bar tab.”

“Deal. And thanks.”

“I’m just looking after number one. Ainsley thinks the sun shines out of your arse, remember?” She winked. “Leave it with me.”

—

Savi walked through the international hub and straight into Rome’s Municipio III metro network. Five hubs later and she was out on Via Monte Massico, a sloping road in the Tufell area, lined by high trees that partially obscured the five-story apartment blocks on both sides. Sunlight was only just beginning to filter through the boughs that interlaced above the pavement, forming a verdant tunnel.

She loved Rome, but at this time of year and this early in the morning, it was almost as damp and cold as Edinburgh. The only difference was that the trees here were all evergreens, though even those in the sheltered yard at the front of her apartment block seemed lackluster right now, waiting for the warmer spring air to pep them up.

Her apartment was on the second floor, so she ignored the creaky old lift and climbed the stairs, her bugez lumbering along after her. She’d chosen the one-bedroom place for its compact size. Nice for one person to live in by herself, especially after twenty-three years crammed into a comfortable Mumbai house with a large family. Here there was quiet and solitude. Family was welcome to visit, but wouldn’t be able to stay.

The house G4Turing had used its flock of drudgez to vacuum the carpets and clean the surfaces while she was away on her Caribbean break, even polishing the centerpiece rosewood table properly. When she got to the galley kitchen, the fridge was properly stocked. She took out the pot of organic yogurt and fresh milk, then measured out a cafetière with natural ground beans from the delicatessen two streets away.

After a quick shower to wash away the last of Barbuda’s insidious sand, she put on a robe and went back into the tiny kitchen. The yogurt had lost its chill, the way she liked it, and the coffee had brewed properly. She sprinkled granola into a bowl and poured the yogurt on top.

After four days of indulgent, large, and highly Westernized breakfasts delivered to the Diana Klub villa’s balcony, it was quite a relief to come home to this. The memory made her hold up her hand and admire the single gold ring she was now wearing.

I’m married!

While she ate breakfast, she told Nelson, her mInet, to run the Icefall news streams. Preparations were well underway for the first fall day. Connexion’s giant airships were buzzing along a kilometer above Australia’s Gibson Desert in a careful holding pattern. Meanwhile, farther south, in Antarctic waters, the harvester boats were circling Iceberg V-71, which had broken off the Ross Ice Shelf three months ago. It was a colossus, with a surface area of 2,850 kilometers, making it larger than Luxembourg. Nelson refined the filter for any mention of opposition groups, political or active. There were a few global and Australia-based ecological groups posting about the sacrilege on social media, but not much of that was relayed by the mainstream. The Walungurru People’s Review was more strident, but it wasn’t saying anything new.

As always, the prospect of jobs and fresh money pouring into the outback now was winning the day. Deserts didn’t have many committed friends in 2092.

Savi checked the time and went back into the bedroom. The bugez was standing obediently at the foot of the bed. She opened the luggage panniers and carefully placed all her dirty linen into the laundry basket ready for the concierge service to collect. Her lips twitched—not that I wore much.

She gazed at the gold ring again and very reluctantly took it off. It went in her jewelry box in the bedside cabinet. Cal had promised an engagement ring as soon as her assignment finished. “I know we did it backward, but you still deserve the set.”

I miss him already. It shouldn’t have happened, but I’m so glad it did. Maybe it is true: Opposites attract. Except we’re not really that different. He’s smart, and funny, which is more than most men. And considerate, and oversensitive in that way Western men can be. She sighed. And behaves like a sixteen-year-old half the time. Which is quite fun.

Her gaze was drawn to the bed. Cal had stayed over several times, which left her with some memories—

Stop it!