The Superconnected
Malcolm is so tired. He’s sitting alone, but he’s never really alone. He can tell that Cary is on the run again, that Sasha is sleeping peacefully for once, that Misha is playing politics with the wrong people. He can feel all his friends, all the people they’ve ever touched, all of their points of contact, shifting, moving. Needing. Wanting. Wanting impossible things from him.
For a while, he tried to give them what they wanted. He did some impossible things, and that was pretty fun. But he couldn’t keep up, not with everyone. He kept losing people, and he still feels the holes where those connections should be.
He takes another swig of nepenthe. Forgetting them is the only hope he has, and he doesn’t even think it will work.
For a while, he tried to give them what they wanted. He did some impossible things, and that was pretty fun. But he couldn’t keep up, not with everyone. He kept losing people, and he still feels the holes where those connections should be.
He takes another swig of nepenthe. Forgetting them is the only hope he has, and he doesn’t even think it will work.