UnWholly

“I love food,” Starkey says. “And I’m not just saying that.”

“Do you think you can handle a team of thirty and get food on the tables three times a day for everyone else?”

Starkey waves his hand and makes an egg appear out of thin air, then hands it to Co

“Great,” says Co

For once Co

8 • Risa

In the early evenings, when the desert begins to cool, Risa plays piano beneath the left wing of Air Force One. She plays pieces that she knows by heart and pieces from sheet music that have found their way into the Graveyard.

As for the piano itself, it’s a black baby grand Hyundai—which made her laugh when she first saw it. She didn’t think Hyundai made pianos—but then, why should that surprise her? Multinationals can make anything they want if people will buy it. She once read that Mercedes-Benz had gotten heavy into artificial hearts before the Unwind Accord made such technology pointless. “The Pulsar Omega,” the advertisement went. “Take luxury to heart.” They invested a fortune in the product, only to lose every pe

Tonight she plays a forceful yet subtle Chopin sonata. It pours out like a ground fog, echoing within the hollow fuse-lages where the Whollies live. She knows it comforts them. Even those kids who claim to despise classical music have come asking her why she isn’t playing when she’s skipped a night. So she plays for them, but not really, because it’s herself that she’s playing for. Sometimes she has an audience sitting before her in the dust. Other times, like tonight, it’s just her. Sometimes Co

“He’s got too much on his mind,” Hayden has told her, making the excuses that Co

Hayden never passes up a chance to throw a verbal barb about Co

“Are you wondering if it’ll bite you?” she once asked as he gazed at that shark. Startled, Co

If it weren’t for those daily leg massages, Risa would think that Co

Thinking about Co

What bothers her most is that she cares. Risa was always able to take care of herself, both physically and emotionally. At the state home, either you developed several layers of personal armor or you were eaten alive. When had that changed? Was it when she was forced to play music as kids were led into the building beneath her to be unwound? Was it when she made the choice to accept a shattered spine, rather than having it replaced by the healthy spine of an Unwind? Or maybe it was before that, when she realized that, against all sense and reason, she had fallen in love with Co

Risa finishes the sonata, because no matter how she’s feeling, she ca

9 • Co

Co

He looks out of a window, but in the darkness he sees only his own reflection. Another thud. He cups his hands over his eyes, pressing his face against the glass. The first thing he sees are the curved blue streaks reflecting moonlight. A wheelchair. Then he sees Risa hurling another rock, which hits right above the window.

“What the hell?”

He opens the hatch, hoping she’ll stop the barrage. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I was just trying to get your attention.”

He chuckles, not yet getting her frame of mind. “There are better ways.”

“Not lately.”

She moves forward and backward a bit in her chair, crushing a dirt clod that had her tilted at a slight angle. “Not going to invite me in?”

“You’re invited. You’re always invited.”

“Well, then maybe you should have put up a ramp.”

And although he knows he’s going to regret saying it, he says it anyway. “Maybe you should let someone carry you.”

She rolls a bit closer but not enough to close the space between them—just enough to make it painfully awkward. “I’m not an idiot. I know what’s going on.”

Risa might want this talk right now, but Co

“What’s going on is that I’m trying to keep us all alive,” he says with a little too much irritation in his voice, “and I don’t see that as a problem.”

“Yes, you’re so busy keeping us alive. Even when you’re not busy, you’re busy—and when you do actually talk to me, it’s all about the ADR, and how hard it is for you, and the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Risa, you are not the kind of fragile girl who needs a guy’s attention to feel whole.”

Then the moon comes out from behind a cloud again, and he can see tears glistening on her face. “There’s a difference between needing attention and being intentionally ignored.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but his brain fails him. He could talk about their daily circulation massages, but she has already pointed out that even then, he’s mentally checked out.

“It’s the wheelchair, isn’t it?”

“No!” he tells her. “It has nothing to do with that.”

“So you admit there’s a reason.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What then?”

He steps down from the jet. Three steps that separate his world from Risa’s. He kneels before her, trying to look into her eyes, but now they’re hidden in shadow. “Risa, I care about you as much as I ever did. You know that.”

“Care about me?”

“Love you, okay? I love you.” The words don’t come easy for Co