Where the Heart Is

I looked deep into the image tank. “What if I choose not to transcend into the world computer network?”

“I’ll cry.”

“You’ll—cry? That’s it? I mean—I have the choice?”

“Of course. You can live the life of a scavenger, like String.”

“What if I want to go back to Zubenelgenubi? Back to the liquid lights?”

Her voice was stiff. “That’s up to you.”

“Then that is what I choose.” There was silence for a moment, then Wendy’s image slowly began to break up into colored cubes. The little robot started to roll away. “Wait! Where are you going?”

It was the multitude of voices that answered. “To help prepare your ship for another journey.”

I followed behind. Wendy, dear, sweet Wendy…

The cube rounded out onto the landing platter. A variety of robots—flatbeds, info cubes, and some kinds I hadn’t seen before—were already at work on the Foxtrot.; others were rolling in from various places around the starport. I looked at the ship, its sleek lines, its powerful engines. I thought of the giant, lonely Terry Fox up in orbit. I thought and thought and thought. “Stop,” I said at last.

The robots did just that. “Yes, Carl?” said the multitude.

I hesitated. The words weren’t easy. But they were the truth. “I—I just had to see for myself that it was my choice; that I still had my free will.” I cleared my throat. “Wendy?”

The tank on the nearest info robot became transparent. Interference-pattern cubes coalesced into the pretty face within. “Yes, darling?”

“I love you.”

“You know I love you, too, Carl.”

I steeled myself. “And I’m staying.”

Her voice sang with joy. “Just relax, darling. This won’t hurt a bit.”

Her image was replaced by dancing and whirling prismatic lights. I was aware of a new image forming in the tanks of the other info robots, an image growing more and more refined as cubic pixels divided and subdivided: an image of the two of us, side by side, together, forever. I let myself go.

I was home at last.