Dolores

Dolores sat on the bed in the dark room. Most of the mascara had been cleaned off her face, and she was starting to feel like an idiot. She heard the muffled voices of people in the other room, children mostly, and some parents. Barry's muffled voice was the loudest and most excited, but the words were meaningless, like her ears were unfocused, or they were all speaking a different language that she just barely understood.

In a way they were. Nobody knew what it was like to be her right now. Her husband was missing. His company was treating him like he was dead. Her cards and tokens weren't working, so it was like she didn't have any money. She wrapped her arms around her legs and gave them a squeeze. Without her steady stream of enrichment, the feeds, the tours, the product reviews, the world was quiet, but in a loud way. For once in her life she was alone with her thoughts. She delved her memory trying to find some tips or tricks for surviving on her own, but all she could recall was a video she had seen years ago about glamping, and even that looked unappealing.

What had her parents told her? Something about being wary about marrying a rich guy. She couldn't remember. She was so distraught she couldn't even remember what her parents looked like.

She remembered, though, meeting Archie for the first time. It was in Italy. He had just finished his degree in some money thing, and she was trying to figure out what to do with her life. He was blowing through his signing bonus to Solstice QuantBank, and Dolores thought that was frivolous and told him as much, almost calling him a spoiled trust fund kid. But then he bought her a drink, and sat down with her at a table by the sea and explained how money worked. His words were alien, but a more familiar alien than the blurbled words she could currently hear from the other room, but as he spoke, she could see the entire structure come together in her mind, like one big puzzle, or rather, several big puzzles that made a larger picture. Archie could blow through his signing bonus because he had more (and he meant more) where that came from. Money would never be an issue for him. He was some sort of mathematical genius, but a rich one at that.

That's when Dolores had figured out the rest of her life.

The next day had been a hot one. It was almost 38°C. Dolores had met Archie at the cafe, and after getting some drinks, he an iced Americano, and she something that was mostly whipped cream and sugar, they toured the ruins. They walked through the Colosseum, finding seats in the shade. Neither of them knew much about the Colosseum, so they just sat there in awe at the size of it, built before drones, built before complex machinery, built entirely with human labor, willing or otherwise.

Even in the shade, it was hot. They finished their drinks and rode a bus across the Tiber. Dolores sat by the window and watched the landmarks roll past, seeing it all as if for the first time. Everything in the world, to a point, was built by humans without the aid of machines. Sure, now they had autonomous builders and levitating assemblers, but to visualize a world prior to even solar- or even gas-powered machinery to help lift heavy stones to distances she shuddered to think about, it gave her a sense of awe for humanity. She looked over at Archie. He was looking at her, the hint of a smile on his face. She leaned against him, and appreciated humanity.

They got off the bus near the Eventree and found a street vendor where Archie bought some pizzelles and a large grattachecca to share. They wandered through the city, nibbling the pizzelles, occasionally scattering crumbs for the local squirrel population, and enjoying spoonfuls of the grattachecca before it melted, whereby it turned into a drink they'd pass between them. At the Palazzo Apostolico, they sat on a bench and stared at the nearby Eventree, a massive willow with drooping branches, like a mother hen covering her chicks. Archie looked at Dolores as she finished the last of the grattachecca, the cherry syrup staining her lips and tongue red. “How'd you like to sit under it?”

Her eyes widened. “Is that allowed?”

He grinned. “Anything's allowed if you can afford it,” he said. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He found a security guard and told him something while Dolores found a bin for the cup. After passing him a thick stack of bills he waved for Dolores to join him. Hand in hand, they went past the barricades, past the drooping branches of the willow tree. Once past the boughs, it felt like they were in their own world, the midday sun bathing everything in a green light. It was cool here, and they sat beneath the branches, resting their backs against the massive trunk.

They just sat there and listened to the sounds of nature, the wind in the branches, the occasional leaf rustling, hanging like a teardrop, but refusing to fall. Dolores never wanted it to end.

“Excuse me,” said a voice, breaking her out of her memory. “I didn't realize anybody was in here.”

She looked over and saw a well-dressed man. He had an overcoat draped over his arm. She looked at his face. He reminded her a bit of Cat and Frank.

He held out his hand, the one not encumbered by an overcoat. “Jeremy,” he said. “But everybody calls me Eremiya.”

She took his hand. “You're the one that went missing,” she said.

“To everybody by myself,” he said with a chuckle. “Cat said I could put my coat in here. The others were all using the coat check, but I never trusted them. Especially since I used to work at one. You have no idea what sort of mischief they do with your coats.” He set his coat on the bed next to Dolores and sat on the other side of it. He held a small wrapped box in his hands. “I don't think you're going to find your husband,” he said. “At least, not in any way you recognize him.”

She looked over at him.

He looked at her. “One hears things,” he said, “when listening to the noise.” Then he stood up. “Well, it was nice talking to you, but I have a nephew who is having a birthday today, and I must try to outdo Frank by being the best uncle. I bid you adieu.” He nodded and left.

Dolores slumped back next to the coat. It was a really nice coat, like one that Archie would wear. She caught herself. “Thinking about him in the past tense isn't going to solve anything,” she told herself. Most of her augments still worked, but had been blasted into the free tier. She blinked, pulling up a search. “What to do about a missing husband,” she beamed into it. After scrolling past a few ads (Find Anyone Anywhere!, and Is He Ignoring You? Try These Tricks to Win Him Back!), she found a useful article. She struggled through it without the benefit of a summarizer or a text-to-speech module (both premium tier). She just gritted her teeth and did her best to pay attention.

The first suggestion was to notify the police. However, the police had notified her, so she figured that step could be checked off. Next, if the police weren't helpful, she could always hire a private investigator. An ad for private investigators popped up below that paragraph. She scrolled past it, but her eye caught on the words “JUST CALL JOE” followed by a last name that was almost entirely consonants. It made her think of coleslaw or chainsaws, but her inner voice just pronounced it “beep.” Next up was contacting a lawyer. It had some big words that also went “beep” in her mind, but it might be useful. Archie did have a lawyer. The lawyer ads were worse. She scrolled and scrolled until she got to the final suggestion. “Do your own sleuthing, just be mindful of privacy and trespassing laws.”

She leaned back and made a mental note (which manifested as a real note, after she watched an ad for a pharmaceutical product for inexplicably itchy feet), adding these items to a checklist. To make herself feel like she was making progress, she added the bit about contacting the police and checked it off. A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step, after all. She wondered if anybody had made a wall hanging to that effect. She lost herself briefly in another search, wading through ads, before deciding to just make her own. Maybe this would be the next big thing. She used the free tier of Imadjin to create a mockup of the saying, adding some decorative fonts (though she was limited to just the free fonts). In the end, considering it was like trying to paint a Picasso with a toothbrush between your toes, it looked pretty good. She listed it for sale as both a digital wall hanging (the most popular), and for those with the retro-vibe, a steel plate.

Still, she needed to try to figure out this Archie business. She got up off the bed, looked in the vanity mirror, made sure that her mascara didn't make her look like Arai-kun, and straightened her hoodie. In the mirror behind her, she saw something creep out of Jeremy's jacket. It was one of those Taskrottas that Conor and Frank had developed. She shrugged. They probably had a few of those lying around. After all, Archie sometimes brought his work stuff home.

She left the room and headed into the party. Barry was opening presents, and he had just opened the one Jeremy gave him. It was a pocket watch. The boy looked up at his uncle with a bemused expression. “All in good time,” said Jeremy.

A man with a half-empty wineglass (and breath that indicated clearly where the other half had gone) noticed Dolores. “Didn't see you earlier. Which one is yours?” he asked.

“Oh,” she said. “I'm just a friend of the family. But I really must be going.” She made eye-contact with Cat and waved goodbye. Cat mouthed, “Good luck,” which her lip-reading app would have translated for her in a reasonable facsimile of Cat's voice, but she didn’t feel like watching another ad just now.