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A little after nine thirty, a gang of Marianella’s old socialite friends cornered her next to the fireplace. They were on their way to being drunk, although all three of them knew how to hide it.
“Bianca wants to play the theremin,” said Emilia, the oldest of the three and the one who had first befriended Marianella when she’d arrived in Hope City, all those years ago.
“I don’t,” said Bianca. “I haven’t played in years. I’m sure I’m terrible now.” She laughed, and Marianella could tell that she really did want to play—too much modesty always meant the opposite.
“Please,” said Paula. “You’re the most amazing player we know.”
Bianca laughed again, shoving at Paula playfully and shaking her head.
“I’d love to hear you play,” Marianella said. “I never could get the hang of it.” That wasn’t entirely true; Marianella loved the theremin. Except she didn’t play it with her hands the way a human would, but with the feedback from her own thoughts. And so she never played in front of an audience. At least not an audience that didn’t know her secret.
“I really don’t need to,” Bianca said, but Marianella knew that was a lie.
“Nonsense.” Marianella walked over to the bar and knocked one of the stirring spoons against her wineglass. The guests were well trained; they turned to her almost as a group. For a moment Marianella wavered under their gaze. She’d never liked being the center of attention; she was always convinced someone would see through her skin and discover her secret.
She glanced at Luciano, and his calm, unflappable presence soothed her.
“Bianca has a surprise for us,” she said, and the socialites erupted into giggles. Over thirty years old, all of them, and married, but they still acted like girls. The rest of the guests exchanged glances, and the air in the room tensed, as if the party expected a break in propriety.
“She’d like to play the theremin,” Marianella added, and there was a contented sigh—this wasn’t anything weird, only an impromptu performance. Old-fashioned, Marianella thought, as Bianca and the always chivalrous Vicente carted the theremin and its stand to the center of the room. Just like her parents’ parties in the thirties, when the guests would sing and perform instead of using the record player. It went along with Luciano playing the role of electric butler.
Bianca positioned herself. Her face took on a serious, scholarly expression, and she lifted her hands in the air. The theremin buzzed.
She began to play.
Marianella recognized the song immediately—a Rachmaninoff piece she’d always found haunting. She leaned against the bar and closed her eyes and listened. She’d played this song for Sofia once. It was a safe song, one that wouldn’t activate Sofia’s programming, and its intensity had always reminded Marianella of Sofia, as if the music could form into a woman.
The doorbell rang.
Marianella opened her eyes. Bianca kept playing, so caught up in her music that she didn’t notice. A few of the guests stirred, but no one seemed bothered by this interruption.
Luciano leaned forward. “Would you like me to answer it?” he whispered.
Marianella shook her head. Bianca played beautifully, but Marianella wasn’t sure she wanted to listen to this particular song right now. Too sad. Too many memories.
She slipped out of the main room and down the hall. None of her maintenance drones came to warn her, so she assumed it was not one of Ignacio’s men, and she was right. When she pulled the door open, Eliana Gomez stood on the front porch, clutching a bottle of cheap white wine in one hand.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I got caught up in picking out a gift— Did I need to bring a gift? And then I missed the train—”
“It’s quite all right. Come in.” Marianella took the wine and held open the door. Eliana looked out of place in her glittering black party dress and teased-out hair, but Marianella was glad she’d invited her. “We’re listening to a performance right now, but as soon as it’s over, I’ll introduce you to some potential clients.” She smiled and lifted the bottle. “I’ll drop this off in the kitchen. If you follow the hallway, you’ll get to the main room, and you’ll find everyone there.”
Eliana nodded, but she looked dazed, the poor girl, like an animal caught in the headlights of a car. She followed the direction of the music, and Marianella walked into the kitchen and slid the wine bottle into the refrigerator. Sweet of her, to bring a hostess gift.
“Nice party.”
Marianella recognized Alejo’s voice instantly. She straightened up, turned to face him.
“Thank you,” she said.
He gri
“Yes, Bianca plays very well.”
“I was talking about the andie behind the bar.”
Marianella’s heartbeat rose, her breath quickened. “He’s not entertainment.”
“He’s novel enough to count, I’d think. How did you get something like that in this day and age?”
“A lady never tells her secrets.”
Alejo laughed. Marianella just smiled politely. They both knew she couldn’t tell him any secret more damaging than the one she’d revealed last year in that shabby motel room.
Alejo smoothed back his hair with one hand. Preening. He was the bland sort of handsome that showed up well on television. “I’m glad I caught you alone, actually. I need to talk to you about the project.”
Marianella glanced around the big empty kitchen. Bianca had started Mozart’s Concerto Number Fifteen, and the cheerful notes drifted in from the hallway.
“Shouldn’t we wait?” she asked.
“It’s nothing terribly drastic, but I’ve been a bit tied up this last week and haven’t gotten a chance to call.” He went quiet, and Marianella peered up at him.
“Well?”
“I just have some concerns about the blackout on Last Night.”
Marianella glided across the kitchen and pretended to rummage in the refrigerator. The city had destroyed a maintenance drone because of that blackout, an i
“I heard it was terrifying,” Marianella said. “The blackout.”
“Lucky you, holed up in your private palace.” Alejo moved up alongside her, leaning on the refrigerator door. “It’s actually been pretty scary the last week too. The power hasn’t been steady. It flickers, dims—hasn’t failed completely again, but it’s enough that the city engineers are all in a tizzy.”
“I’ve heard about that. My prayers are with all of you.” Marianella pulled out a package of chèvre and looked over at Alejo expectantly. He stepped away from the refrigerator and pushed the door shut for her.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Anything for Lady Luna.” Alejo repositioned himself against the counter. “Do you really need to do that? There’s plenty of food sitting out with your andie.”
“You know I don’t like that word.” Marianella took a plate out of the cupboard and began arranging crackers across it, flared out like a sunflower.
Alejo gri
“We should all be touchy about robots,” Marianella murmured. “They run the city for us. The power failures ought to cement that, don’t you think?”
“Exactly. That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.” Alejo leaned in close to her as she rearranged the crackers. “The city’s blaming a piece of broken programming that’s worked its way into the city drones. Pretty big cause for concern, I’d say.”
Marianella’s skin prickled with his sudden closeness. He smelled like European cologne and pine trees. Every human had a different scent.