How to Repair a Mechanical Heart

“She’s just a person,” says Abel. “Honestly? When I saw Ed Ransome in person my crush kinda eased up a tiny bit. Right Bran?”

He elbows me.

“Right. Yeah. Mine too, a little.”

“Yeah, well, you had other stuff going on that night.” She holds Plastic Lagarde up to her cheek and bats her eyes. “Will you all wait in line with me? Please please please?”

“Sure‌—‌oh. We can’t, babe.” Abel knocks the heel of his hand against his head. “We’ve got that stupid-ass lunch with Miss Maxima.”

I forgot all about that. “Ugh.”

“Brandon, tell me what possessed us to call a truce with her again? Was it really just postcoital bliss?”

“’Fraid it was.”

“Aw. You guys,” Bec saps, messing up my hair. She still thinks we’re moving too fast, I can tell, but she’s been nice enough to act totally happy for us this week. I relax a little. I swing my arm around her waist and give her a squeeze.

“Oh farts, there she is.” Abel pokes me. “The one and only.”

He points. My eyes co

Hello boys, Miss Maxima mouths, her red lips enlarging each syllable. She sends us a dainty finger-wave.

“Gross,” says Abel.

“Completely,” I say.

“She’s so amazing,” says Bec.

We both whip around.

“Not Miss M,” Bec eyerolls. “Della Wolfe-Williams. Did you know she’s a first-degree black belt in tai chi?” She pets the bio in the CastieCon program. “She has two Siberian huskies and on the weekends she goes mountain biking and makes salsa verde from scratch.” She blushes. “Sorry.”

“Dear fangirl,” Abel says, “have you no idea who you’re talking to?”

“Do you think she’d take a picture with Plastic Lagarde?”

“Du

I hear the words but they breeze right through me. I’m thinking of “How to Repair a Mechanical Heart,” blipped out of existence with the rest of hey_mamacita, the copy I salvaged filed sad and unfinished in a private folder on my laptop.

“Sure,” I mutter, but no one hears.

Della Wolfe-Williams is coming.

You see her legs first, the thigh-high black warrior boots with skull-shaped buckles and impossible heels. Leather pants, studded belt, brown tank top two shades darker than her skin. Her buzzcut’s grown out into short little spikes that look soft and hard at the same time. No makeup except a sharp perfect outline around each eye.

“I want to be her when I grow up,” Bec whispers.

“So do I,” whispers Abel.

Della’s sweeping the lip of the stage, letting her fingers brush fans’ outstretched hands. Her face is this cool haughty mask and I wonder if she’s smiling inside, parodying herself just a little. She used words like obdurate and paradigm in her last Popwatch interview, so probably not.

She grabs the mike like a weapon.

“Greetings, fellow travelers.”

Some cheers and yeahs and a piercing whistle. Bec clutches Plastic Lagarde and looks like she’s about to pee or faint. Della raises her hands, tamps down the praise.

“I certainly hope everyone’s ready for an intelligent discussion, because as we all know‌…‌” She leans in, her lush lips brushing the mike. “I don’t suffer fools.”

The cheers amp up. Abel swings an arm around me and I flinch a little. I hope he didn’t notice.

“Well, you all look fairly tolerable, so let’s dig right in. Shall we?” Della frowns at the mike and adjusts it. “Tons to discuss and debate this season, right? Some very rich visual metaphor, a few controversial arcs and plot twists, shifting character dynamics with deep implications that could reverberate next season and beyond. Someone kick us off with a good smart topic!”

“Did Sim and Cadmus hook up in the spider cave?”

Everyone turns like she’s farted in church. Miss Maxima is standing with one ridiculous hand on her ridiculous hip, the fingers of her other hand poised for an imaginary cigarette. Della Wolfe-Williams blinks at her and tilts a little, possibly picturing Maxima’s head stuffed and mounted above her fireplace.

“And who might you be?”

“Melissa Arnott. I go by Miss Maxima?” Her fake-smoky voice is about what you’d expect from a theater major with a DVR full of Castaway Planet and Bette Davis films. “I moderate one of the most highly regarded fanjournal communities for Castaway Planet fans. You might have heard of the Cadsim Co

“I have not.”

“Our fan fiction is very widely respected in the Castaway Planet fandom, and‌—‌”

“Oh, good grief.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Romanticism poisoning the fan experience‌—‌trust me, I’m an old-school X-Phile; I know how it goes.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. You were saying. People apparently think Cadmus and Sim‌—‌” She makes a face and grinds her index fingers together.

“Yes! Well, we’re hoping‌…‌”

“No. Sorry, but no,” says Della Wolfe-Williams. “Why do people think this pairing is a good idea? I find it really baffling, if I’m being honest.”

Someone yells boooo! I sneak a look at Abel. He makes a halfhearted herp derp face.

Miss Maxima’s motormouthing: “‌…‌would actually make total sense for their characters, if you think about it, and also I heard the plan is to get them together during sweeps next season.”

“People actually think that?” Della Wolfe-Williams twists her mouth up.

“Many do, yes,” Maxima says. “In fact, two of the biggest believers are right there in front of the stage. In the Blondie shirt? And the baseball cap?”

Abel facepalms.

“These two young men?” says Della.

“Yep. Isn’t that right, boys?”

“Ah,” I say, “no, we‌—‌”

“Oh, don’t be modest! They’re relatively new converts but they’ve already written the most incredible fanfic,” Maxima smirks. “It’s just so lyrical and romantic. Emotionally, they build a rock-solid case for the Cadmus-Sim pairing; I mean, you should read it sometime. There’s this flashfic set in the spider cave that’s almost like a so

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. Well listen, you two little Shakespeares.” Della Wolfe-Williams clicks closer to us. “I studied queer lit in college so I’m nothing if not an ally, but I’ll eat my boot if an actual relationship happens. It would be the worst storyline disaster since the giant-sandworm episode in Season 2.”

Giggles in the crowd. Some grumbles. Bec’s holding the camera on Della, but her eyes keep straying to me.

“People. Look.” Della holds up a hand. “Clearly I don’t know what’s brewing in Le

Miss Maxima folds her arms and flicks her dark bangs. “Why is that?”

“Ahh, let’s see. Well, for starters‌…‌” She looks right at us. “Cadmus: classic narcissistic personality, obsessed with his hair, obnoxious hero complex, etc. And the sad fact is, even if Cadmus changed tomorrow, Sim couldn’t. He isn’t capable of real love.”

The crowd murmurs. Abel slings me a sidelong glance.