Postsingular

"You okay?" he called to Thuy.

"No," said Thuy, her voice trembling. "My fingers…"

Peering in, Jayjay saw dark smears on her moon-silvered hands. Blood.

"Hang on," he said. "We'll be done in a minute." His plan was to shove the pack into the cave, go in after it, arm the bomb, then teleport out at the very last second with Thuy and the harp.

Trembling with haste, he jammed the pack into the ragged hole. But, goddammit, the dense plastic and metal structures of the bomb got hung up on a lump of rock halfway through– and then for five or maybe even ten minutes, Jayjay could neither push the frikkin' pack further nor pull it back out. He wormed his hand into the narrow space, clawing at the bump, bloodying his own fingers. Shoot the submachine gun? No, dude, don't shoot at an A-bomb, especially not with your girlfriend right behind it, but, yeah, you can use the barrel of the gun like a pick.

Jayjay pounded till the sparks flew, finally wearing away the bulge that was blocking the path. And now someone on the inside began pulling at the pack to help him-could that be Thuy? Shouldn't she be playing the harp?

The pack dropped into the cave. Thuy was lying on her side moaning, her hands cupped against her chest.

The harp was silent, the orphidnet was up and, oh oh , it was the golem who'd been tugging on the pack. Once again the Big Pig had taken control. In a puddle of moonlight, the solidly built shoon crouched over the bomb-pack, ripping it open like an ear of corn. With no hesitation, Jayjay scrambled through the hole and flung himself at the shoon-but the creature sent him sprawling with a negligent shove. The bomb's control mechanisms cracked and tinkled beneath the golem's hammy fists.

Jayjay crawled over to Thuy.

"My fingers," she said softly. "I'm sorry, Jayjay. I couldn't do anymore. And the harp is just watching. She says this part was up to us."

"We did our best," said, Jayjay, putting his arm around Thuy's shoulders. "No blame. Who knows, maybe we'll like it in Vearth 2.0. Your poor hands." Jayjay drew out his handkerchief and tore it into strips, binding up her bleeding fingers one by one.

And now, sigh, the golem struck the nant farm a mighty thump.

The end?

No, the shoon's fists kept skidding off the shiny box. Harder and harder the golem pounded, but the nant farm shed his blows like drops of water.

"It won't open without antinantanium," exclaimed Thuy, managing a little smile. "And I poured every bit of that junk down the drain at Luty's lab!"

"You're a genius!" said Jayjay. "A hero!"

Suddenly Thuy's face darkened. She was staring at something over Jayjay's shoulder, something he couldn't see. "Oh no!" she exclaimed. "Is that a root hair? Play the harp, Jayjay!"

"What?"

"There was this subdimensional beetle-plant who claimed-" Her voice broke into a higher register. "A root hair! I see a subbie root hair! He's going to put a drop of antinantanium onto the farm! Hurry, Jayjay!"

Jayjay scrambled across the floor, reached up for the harp, but already it was too late. The sides of the nant farm were– melting away. The nants sparkled like diamond dust. A cloud of orphids descended upon the nants to do nanobattle against them.

The golem squatted beside the nants, fa

Jayjay noticed that the Big Pig wasn't bothering to block the cave from the global orphidnet anymore. She'd gotten what she wanted.

"Come on!" he shouted to Thuy. "We'll teleport back to your room. We'll get another few hours in the real world."

"Don't forget the harp," said Thuy. "She wants to stay with us."

"Right," said Jayjay, picking up some encouraging mental vibes from the harp herself. "We'll keep trying to play the Lost Chord."

"Go for it," said the Big Pig, not unkindly. "It still might be nice if it works."

***

Jayjay and Thuy landed in Thuy's room; the harp made a cozy thrumming sound when Jayjay set her down. Outside it was raining again. A peaceful night, the lights of the city warm, everything wet and shiny. Nine p.m. San Francisco time. Downstairs Nektar and Kittie were cheerfully chatting in the garage. They hadn't yet gotten the word that the world was coming to an end.

"I noticed some smart bandages in the bathroom," said Jayjay, regarding Thuy's cloth-wrapped hands. "With biopatches

built in."

"I need painkillers too," said Thuy.

"We'll fix you up. By the way, what happened to your hair?"

"The subbies ate my pigtails," said Thuy, her expression halfway between laughter and tears. "And my favorite shoes. Bastards." She put her arms around Jayjay. "We had some wild times, didn't we?"

"Better than I ever expected," he said, planting a kiss on her mouth. "Maybe we can share one last analog fuck. If you're up for it."

"I'd like that. A final golden memory to treasure when we're dipshit sims. But right now my fingers are-"

"Thuy?" Kittie was calling up the staircase. "We saw the video feed of you facing down Luty at ExaExa. You were so great! And guess who's here? Chu! He says you helped him get back from the Hibrane."

"Hi, Thuy," said a boy's voice. "I'm watching you in the orphidnet."

Thuy winced and silently shook her head, then went into the bathroom.

"We'll be right down," called Jayjay. In the background, he ran an orphidnet check on the cave beneath Easter Island. The nants had grown to a seething ball several hundred meters across, too big to erase with any bomb. Too late to call in the Air Force.

The only thing to do was to sit down at the harp and start trying to play the Lost Chord. But the prospect seemed so hopeless. Why not enjoy the last few minutes of real life that he and Thuy had?

Jayjay helped Thuy dress her wounds, patched his own fingers, and then the two of them went downstairs to visit with the others. Keenly aware of impending doom as Thuy and Jay-jay were, everything felt classic and heavy and for-the-ages.

The garage was all lit up, a vintage car-buff scene. Nektar was admiring Kittie's retrofit job on the SUV; to finish it off, Kittie had painted a gorgeous wraparound image of a woman's head being diced into cubes by the car's front grill-and reassembling itself at the rear. It was a mural of Thuy going through the grill in the office wall of that dough-faced bully, the guy whom Gladax had later killed with a poke to the brain– Jayjay couldn't remember his name. His real life memories were buried under sixty years worth of bogus crud.

A bright-eyed boy with brown hair was expressionlessly polishing the SUV.

"This is Chu," said Thuy, giving the boy a sharp pat on the head. "He and his father left me to die. And, Chu, this is my boyfriend, Jayjay. Show some ma

"Ond went to see Jil on her boat," said Chu in his flat voice. "He loves Jil instead of Nektar."

"Which is quite all right with me," said Nektar, tossing her thick fall of hair. "I'm happier with Kittie. Don't worry Chu, Mommy and Daddy will be good friends. I just wonder what we'll do about our house. I'd like to stay here, but I don't want Ond moving in."