anxious, I suppose, even for a nervous
smile. Also, there was something about Sara that bothered me. She was too
happy. No, correction: she was too happy for us . I felt a bit like I did
when Maureen and I sat through a timeshare hard-sell while we were vacationing
in Las Vegas a couple years before. All I kept thinking at the time was if the
units the sales guy was pushing were so fantastic, why didn’t he own one?
“So,” I said, getting to why
we were there, “everything’s on track? No…delays…or anything?”
“One hundred percent on
track, Mr. Smith. This meeting is only a formality so I can answer any last
questions you might have. Your wife and yourself are still scheduled for two
ten this afternoon.” She checked her watch. “Which gives you, oh, four hours to
sit back and relax before you begin your lives in New America.”
I glanced at Maureen. She
finally cracked a smile, and I was about to smile too when I noticed her bottom
lip trembling. The smile was a pretense, an attempt to hold back tears.
It worked on Sara, however,
because the woman sighed whimsically and fed us her “I’m so envious” line
again. I wondered how many thousands of times she had used it before.
“What do we do until then?” I
asked.
“Whatever you like,” Sara replied.
“The museum is on the second floor. You can learn everything you want about
miniaturization and—”
“I’ve done my research,” I
said, perhaps a bit too harshly. “We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.”
“Of course, of course.
Nevertheless, it’s a great place to pass some time. The New Miami wing has just
been completed in anticipation of the city’s opening next year. The cafeteria
is on the third floor, and the Experience Project is on the forth, where you
can enjoy a variety of virtual tours of New America.”
“I think we’d just like
someplace quiet where we could wait,” Maureen said.
“Then I would suggest the
botanical gardens. This floor, just follow the signs.”
“To smell the roses one last
time?” Maureen said.
Sara frowned. “Excuse me?”
“To smell the roses one last
time.”
Sara chuckled. “The roses in
New America smell just like real roses, Mrs. Smith. No, what am I saying? They are real roses. Everything’s real. The sky’s the same sky above you right now. The
sun’s the same sun, the air’s the same air—”
“It doesn’t rain,” Maureen
said. “I think I’d like it if it rained.”
“It still rains, of course—”
“But the dome stops it.”
“You can’t have rain drops
the size of boulders falling on New People now, can you?” Sara chuckled again,
though this time uncomfortably. She looked at me to step in.
“You won’t even notice the
dome, dear,” I said. “No rain—that’s a small price to pay, isn’t it?”
“I know, I know… It’s just…”
“It’s okay, everything will
be okay.”
Maureen nodded, pulled
herself together, and stood.
Sara and I stood as well.
“Is there anything else I can
help you with today?” Sara asked.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I
think we’ll just walk around for a bit. Thank you.”
Maureen was already opening
the door to leave. I pushed in my chair and followed.
☼
We
didn’t go to the museum or the cafeteria or the fourth floor for the virtual
tours. We took an elevator underground to where the miniaturization occurred.
The cab, one of several, opened to a space the size of an airport departure
lounge. And that’s exactly what it looked like. Large-screen monitors
everywhere displayed ID numbers and miniaturization times. Check-in counters—or
whatever the hell they were called—lined the far wall. They were lettered A
through Z. Queues of fifty to a hundred people snaked back and forth before
each. Unlike at an airport there wasn’t any luggage in sight. You entered New
America as naked as a newborn. There weren’t any children either as it was
illegal for anyone under twenty-one to miniaturize—at
smile. Also, there was something about Sara that bothered me. She was too
happy. No, correction: she was too happy for us . I felt a bit like I did
when Maureen and I sat through a timeshare hard-sell while we were vacationing
in Las Vegas a couple years before. All I kept thinking at the time was if the
units the sales guy was pushing were so fantastic, why didn’t he own one?
“So,” I said, getting to why
we were there, “everything’s on track? No…delays…or anything?”
“One hundred percent on
track, Mr. Smith. This meeting is only a formality so I can answer any last
questions you might have. Your wife and yourself are still scheduled for two
ten this afternoon.” She checked her watch. “Which gives you, oh, four hours to
sit back and relax before you begin your lives in New America.”
I glanced at Maureen. She
finally cracked a smile, and I was about to smile too when I noticed her bottom
lip trembling. The smile was a pretense, an attempt to hold back tears.
It worked on Sara, however,
because the woman sighed whimsically and fed us her “I’m so envious” line
again. I wondered how many thousands of times she had used it before.
“What do we do until then?” I
asked.
“Whatever you like,” Sara replied.
“The museum is on the second floor. You can learn everything you want about
miniaturization and—”
“I’ve done my research,” I
said, perhaps a bit too harshly. “We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.”
“Of course, of course.
Nevertheless, it’s a great place to pass some time. The New Miami wing has just
been completed in anticipation of the city’s opening next year. The cafeteria
is on the third floor, and the Experience Project is on the forth, where you
can enjoy a variety of virtual tours of New America.”
“I think we’d just like
someplace quiet where we could wait,” Maureen said.
“Then I would suggest the
botanical gardens. This floor, just follow the signs.”
“To smell the roses one last
time?” Maureen said.
Sara frowned. “Excuse me?”
“To smell the roses one last
time.”
Sara chuckled. “The roses in
New America smell just like real roses, Mrs. Smith. No, what am I saying? They are real roses. Everything’s real. The sky’s the same sky above you right now. The
sun’s the same sun, the air’s the same air—”
“It doesn’t rain,” Maureen
said. “I think I’d like it if it rained.”
“It still rains, of course—”
“But the dome stops it.”
“You can’t have rain drops
the size of boulders falling on New People now, can you?” Sara chuckled again,
though this time uncomfortably. She looked at me to step in.
“You won’t even notice the
dome, dear,” I said. “No rain—that’s a small price to pay, isn’t it?”
“I know, I know… It’s just…”
“It’s okay, everything will
be okay.”
Maureen nodded, pulled
herself together, and stood.
Sara and I stood as well.
“Is there anything else I can
help you with today?” Sara asked.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I
think we’ll just walk around for a bit. Thank you.”
Maureen was already opening
the door to leave. I pushed in my chair and followed.
☼
We
didn’t go to the museum or the cafeteria or the fourth floor for the virtual
tours. We took an elevator underground to where the miniaturization occurred.
The cab, one of several, opened to a space the size of an airport departure
lounge. And that’s exactly what it looked like. Large-screen monitors
everywhere displayed ID numbers and miniaturization times. Check-in counters—or
whatever the hell they were called—lined the far wall. They were lettered A
through Z. Queues of fifty to a hundred people snaked back and forth before
each. Unlike at an airport there wasn’t any luggage in sight. You entered New
America as naked as a newborn. There weren’t any children either as it was
illegal for anyone under twenty-one to miniaturize—at
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