NATE’S CONDO — HOBOKEN, NJ
SIX MONTHS LATER — 4 JULY 2035
Nathan was in his kitchen, prepping dinner and listening to Latin jazz. For the first time in his life, he was at peace with himself and the world around him. The spicy blend of rhythms and the sweet caramelized aroma of the carrots roasting in the oven made the place feel like home. Slowly, he was introducing his personal touch to what had been a soulless display condo.
In the last few months, Nathan had started his new job at Stevens Institute, a role thoughtfully crafted by Tom to tap into his strengths. Nathan helped young people dream big, be creative, and make a difference in the community, but his new project was just the icing on the cake. Every evening, Nathan's return home was marked by the thought of Tom's presence in his life. The void once filled by anger and substance abuse was now occupied by love.
Nathan met his love a couple of nights per week Down Below, which was never enough but gave him great joy and fulfillment. He took whatever attention his boyfriend could spare him, and Tom always made him feel loved and needed, even if he often appeared to be somewhat distant.
Nathan felt secure in his position in his darling’s heart, and with that confidence came an eagerness to help Tom, even in areas he’d been asked not to interfere. His sweetheart faced some monstrous problem he refused to share, and Nathan couldn’t just passively watch him suffer. He just needed time to figure out how to help Tom.
Down Below was a dark and dismal place. The lack of clear skies, fresh air, and nature made it difficult for Nathan to accept it as Tom’s home, but his stubborn boyfriend refused to meet Up Above. Nathan had to understand why, and he needed to bring Tom back from that hell he had created. He knew Nowak was a crucial part of the puzzle he was trying to solve, and he was now confident enough to attempt to build some relationship with Tom’s partner. In time, he would reach out to the bot.
He turned the tap on to wash the crunchy young apples he had picked up from the farmers’ market—his favorite. The fruit—a perfect combination of citrus and honey—still had leaves attached to the stem. As the water flowed over his hands, the cascade’s sound made him sick, and he struggled to breathe. He dropped the apples, turning his hands upward under the tap, hoping the cold water would relieve the nausea. Instead, he hallucinated, seeing flashes of red—a waterfall of blood flowing from his wrists to the sink. Nathan felt as if a concrete fist had crushed him as he fell to all fours. For a long time, his lungs burned and failed to function, and as he lowered his head and his long hair fell over his face, he finally inhaled enough air to scream.
“Tom!”
There was a hole in Nathan’s heart; it was empty and dark and lonely. Something had happened, and he had to see him—his heart. He jumped to his feet, turned off the tap, and ran to the pod, tripping on the carpet and falling before finally reaching his destination.
An urgency gripped Nathan. He needed to find Tom. Heart racing, he emerged Down Below. Tom's flat, the bar—he searched everywhere, but Tom was nowhere to be found. An uneasy tightness settled in his chest.
Nathan retreated to Tom's flat, curling up on the bed. An overwhelming anxiety loomed, but Nathan clung to hope, rocking himself in an attempt to find solace. He resisted the lure of bourbon, not wanting to upset Tom. As the hours dragged on, emotional fatigue took its toll, and he succumbed to sleep.