silence for a few minutes, letting the easy rhythm of the play and
the numbers drift over them. Dom was getting sick of long and difficult days,
and he imagined that Billy and Jenna were as well. What he’d give to be able to
attend a ball game in real life, and not have to worry about anything except
not getting a sunburn or spilling beer on his legs when he jumped to catch a
foul.
Finally, Billy
interrupted the moment. “How are we going to avoid the search numbers this
time?”
“Meaning what?”
“I suppose I
mean that no matter where we’ve been or the steps we’ve taken, this person has
managed to find us. And next time there is no guarantee that the numbers will
be slow and weak, or that we’ll be able to dash out of harm’s way at the last
possible second.”
“Ah.”
Dom thumbed the remote and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. “Hang on a
minute.” He went into the bathroom and unzipped, pissed with his eyes
closed—bodily functions with Bill inhabiting his body still kind of freaked him
out—then splashed cold water over his face and let it air dry.
“Well?” The
shadow sounded impatient.
“This is a
different sort of city,” said Dom, after a few seconds more. “Most places, all
their streets have names. Main Street, Central Avenue, that sort of thing. They
have a few named streets here, but most of the city is on a kind of grid, with
the streets all numbered instead.”
Billy grunted.
“I see.”
“Yeah. Hundreds
of numbers, crossing each other all over the map. Every one of them sending out
their own little waves of interference.” Dom walked over to the window and
opened the curtain. “Look closer at the sky.”
Billy peered
with Dom’s eyes. “My goodness. If you don’t look too close, that looks like
smog.”
Dom nodded.
“Most people can’t see it, of course. But those are numbers, constantly
drifting up into the air from the interaction with each other, but not floating
off too far because there’s still the attraction from below. It’s an amazing
thing, and yet you don’t find too many numerates coming to Edmonton.”
“I wonder why?”
“Too damn cold
in the winter.” He opened the door and walked out to meet Jenna.
Subset
She’d gotten up
early and come down to the lobby about a half hour before and just stood there
for the whole time, looking out the door at the people passing by, but Jenna
heard Dom coming and turned to greet him, smiling. “This place feels safe,” she
said as they walked out onto the sidewalk. Dom pointed up at the sky and told
her about the numbered streets and about how that affected the place in ways
that rarely happened in other large cities, and she nodded a bit, trying to
understand. Then they wandered off to find a pizza place that Dom said he
remembered from the last time he’d been there.
“Tell me about
yourself,” said Jenna, after they’d been served their pizzas and drinks. She’d
realized while walking here that they had not had the time to get to know each
other, and for the first time since this had all started she felt like things
were calm enough to spend some time getting to know Dom, instead of just
learning about the numbers.
Dom looked up in
surprise, but before he could say anything Billy chimed in: “Yes, I’m also
curious. You’re unlike any other numerate I’ve known, and I’ve known a few of
them.”
He took a big
mouthful of pizza, chewing slowly as if to give him time to organize his
thoughts. When he swallowed and washed it down with some beer, he asked, “Where
do you want me to start?”
Jenna took a sip
of her soda. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
Younger than she’d thought.
“Where were you
born?” asked Billy.
“Nova Scotia.
But I was raised a few hours north of here, in a little town called Peace
River.”
“When did you
discover you were a numerate?” This was Billy again.
Dom leaned back
in his chair, looked around the restaurant. There were two other
the numbers drift over them. Dom was getting sick of long and difficult days,
and he imagined that Billy and Jenna were as well. What he’d give to be able to
attend a ball game in real life, and not have to worry about anything except
not getting a sunburn or spilling beer on his legs when he jumped to catch a
foul.
Finally, Billy
interrupted the moment. “How are we going to avoid the search numbers this
time?”
“Meaning what?”
“I suppose I
mean that no matter where we’ve been or the steps we’ve taken, this person has
managed to find us. And next time there is no guarantee that the numbers will
be slow and weak, or that we’ll be able to dash out of harm’s way at the last
possible second.”
“Ah.”
Dom thumbed the remote and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. “Hang on a
minute.” He went into the bathroom and unzipped, pissed with his eyes
closed—bodily functions with Bill inhabiting his body still kind of freaked him
out—then splashed cold water over his face and let it air dry.
“Well?” The
shadow sounded impatient.
“This is a
different sort of city,” said Dom, after a few seconds more. “Most places, all
their streets have names. Main Street, Central Avenue, that sort of thing. They
have a few named streets here, but most of the city is on a kind of grid, with
the streets all numbered instead.”
Billy grunted.
“I see.”
“Yeah. Hundreds
of numbers, crossing each other all over the map. Every one of them sending out
their own little waves of interference.” Dom walked over to the window and
opened the curtain. “Look closer at the sky.”
Billy peered
with Dom’s eyes. “My goodness. If you don’t look too close, that looks like
smog.”
Dom nodded.
“Most people can’t see it, of course. But those are numbers, constantly
drifting up into the air from the interaction with each other, but not floating
off too far because there’s still the attraction from below. It’s an amazing
thing, and yet you don’t find too many numerates coming to Edmonton.”
“I wonder why?”
“Too damn cold
in the winter.” He opened the door and walked out to meet Jenna.
Subset
She’d gotten up
early and come down to the lobby about a half hour before and just stood there
for the whole time, looking out the door at the people passing by, but Jenna
heard Dom coming and turned to greet him, smiling. “This place feels safe,” she
said as they walked out onto the sidewalk. Dom pointed up at the sky and told
her about the numbered streets and about how that affected the place in ways
that rarely happened in other large cities, and she nodded a bit, trying to
understand. Then they wandered off to find a pizza place that Dom said he
remembered from the last time he’d been there.
“Tell me about
yourself,” said Jenna, after they’d been served their pizzas and drinks. She’d
realized while walking here that they had not had the time to get to know each
other, and for the first time since this had all started she felt like things
were calm enough to spend some time getting to know Dom, instead of just
learning about the numbers.
Dom looked up in
surprise, but before he could say anything Billy chimed in: “Yes, I’m also
curious. You’re unlike any other numerate I’ve known, and I’ve known a few of
them.”
He took a big
mouthful of pizza, chewing slowly as if to give him time to organize his
thoughts. When he swallowed and washed it down with some beer, he asked, “Where
do you want me to start?”
Jenna took a sip
of her soda. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
Younger than she’d thought.
“Where were you
born?” asked Billy.
“Nova Scotia.
But I was raised a few hours north of here, in a little town called Peace
River.”
“When did you
discover you were a numerate?” This was Billy again.
Dom leaned back
in his chair, looked around the restaurant. There were two other
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