family money if we had any. Which we don’t, at the moment, but I’m not out of ideas. They think I’m finished, but I’m not. We’re waiting to hear back on a project right now, in fact, something that could change everything. I will give her a great life, and then you’ll see.
Back to what I wanted to tell you. The way things went down—I see now that it sucked for you. But can I be honest for a second? It was a programming decision. You and I were used to them. The network showed what they wanted to show. People saw what they wanted to see. You didn’t wear glasses, but you wore them. We were getting Marlow from you one way or another, and I guess I didn’t think the details mattered. I thought the wedding would be like all the things we did together. Another lie we were both okay with.
It’s funny—I think I miss you, sometimes. Sometimes I think I miss you a lot. But then I saw you at the party, and your face—it hurt my feelings, Orla. I realized that you’ve switched it all around in your head. You set this situation in motion when you made a choice for yourself. But now you think you were the victim, or the hero, or both. Even though you—let’s not forget—are the one who literally almost killed her. (ßProud of me for using “literally” right?!?)
You’re so much smarter than me, but there’s one thing I get that you never have. There aren’t actually heroes or victims or villains. Not in our story, and probably not in anyone else’s. I know you know this deep down: it’s all in the edit.
Floss
“How do I know this really says what you say?” Marlow snapped as soon as Honey stopped talking. “Are you fucking with me? Because if you are, I’ll make that thing on your face look like the day I was nice to you.”
Honey raised her hands slowly, like Marlow was not to be startled. “I’m not fucking with you,” she said.
Marlow’s temples pulsed. She imagined her mother, a younger version of her, sitting down, writing this letter.
Her mother who was not her mother, if Marlow was hearing things right.
But Grace had said nothing about Floss not being her biological mother—
Because Marlow had told the designers to ignore her mother’s genes.
So all that Grace had seen was that her father was not her father.
All she had seen was half of the picture.
And this woman, Orla Cadden? The one who, at the Archive that day, had prompted the eerie search result message: 404, not found. Marlow was putting it together: Orla had been her mother’s friend, her roommate, an extra in Floss’s life. And she had come to Marlow’s—Which birthday party? Oh, yes. Marlow remembered. The one that Floss had filmed, for the footage that got them into Constellation. It gave Marlow chills to think Orla had been there, just across the lobby, close enough to touch.
That woman was her real mother? Not Floss?
Marlow bunched and smoothed the pages, staring at the script. “Do you know what 404 means?” she asked Honey.
Honey pointed at the letter. “Her? She’s 404?” When Marlow nodded, she sighed. “It means she lives in Atlantis,” she said. “It isn’t far from here. But of course, it’s impossible to get to.” Marlow must have looked blank. Honey said, “You know about Atlantis, don’t you?”
Marlow searched her mind, but nothing came up.
“Well,” Honey added, “maybe you don’t. They probably don’t teach you about it, out there. I suppose it would be counterproductive.”
Marlow ran her thumb over the daisies at the top of the letter.
“What are you thinking?” Honey said softly.
The stationery looked different, Marlow thought, than it had on Twenty-First Street, back when it was something stolen. Now she knew it was a gift. It was meant to belong to her. Now she was thinking that, when she was small, she would have loved this paper.
* * *
Back in Honey’s place, at Honey’s command, David spent the rest of the afternoon pressing comforting measures on Marlow. He had brought her so many herbal somethings to eat and sip and be rubbed with, she was beginning to feel allergic to herself.
Atlantis. She was turning the word over and over in her head, along with what Honey had said: it was close to here. She didn’t know how she would get there, only that she had to. She started packing.