Page 47 of The Love Simulation

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll close the pod and turn off the lights. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

I begin to reach for his back, but think better of it and stop. I’m already imagining doing dirty things to him while he’s under the weather. Now is the time to keep my hands to myself.

I close the screen on his pod, and though my mind fights each step I take, I close the door and leave him alone in the room.

“How’s your man doing?” Angie asks as I walk out of the room.

“Angie, he’s not my man. We’re just colleagues.”

“I didn’t sayyourman. I saidourman.”

“Oh.” My guilty overactive imagination had me hearing things that weren’t even said. Again. My imagination is doing too much when it comes to Roman. “He’s okay. He just needs quiet and rest.”

And I need to get my heart and libido under control.

There really aren’t enough thingsto do here to keep us occupied. I can only vacuum so much, read so many manuals, and give the plants so much water before my mind reverts back to Roman. The man, no, menace, won’t leave my mind. Why did he have to be so sexy when he took charge during the meteor shower? Maybe that migraine of his was a blessing in disguise, because Lord knows what I would have done if he’d used that same tone when he said he wanted to kiss me.

Thinking of his migraine, I look toward the bedroomdoor and wonder if I should check on him again. Angie is sitting next to me at the table. She’s finally given up her imaginary phone and is playing on one of the tablets. Since she seems engrossed enough, I begin sliding off my stool. Her spidey senses pick up and she turns to me. “Where are you going?”

Now that she’s decided she’s all in on this simulation, suddenly my every move is under her scrutiny. Though the scrutiny may also stem from the fact that I’ve checked on Roman four times already.

“I’m just getting a tablet,” I say, playing it off. “I want to see if any messages are coming through yet.”

She watches me as I grab a tablet then continue past the bedroom door. I continue on into the greenhouse so I can be alone.

I power on my tablet and check whether there are any messages from my family. The power is back up, but nothing has come in. I wonder if it’s because of the antenna.

I consider drafting individual messages to everyone that will send when the reception is fully up and running, but my thoughts are as blank as the email draft I pull up. What should I say? My parents’ and Vincent’s messages would be easy updates. But I feel like I should say more to Camille. If she’s been keeping track of what’s going on, she must have picked up that something is going on between Roman and me by now. Her reply would say I’m causing more trouble and confusion for myself, knowing that any relationship between us is doomed. But after realizing Roman isn’t a villain out to steal my job like I thought he was, I don’t want to hear any words of caution Camille has on the matter. Does it make me delulu? Maybe. But I’m delulu and happy.

In the end, I send a message addressed to everyonesaying that I miss them and to give Zara and Sheba kisses for me. They’ll get it at some point.

Jordan is frowning at one of the screens at the comms station when I go to return the tablet.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“This right here.” He points to a screen with a black background and green letters. “It monitors how we’re doing on the tasks. Timelines and such. We’ve been doing good with the physical exercises and maintaining the Hab and have completed two of the major tasks. It all looks good, except for this metric.” He points to the one dark orange row. “We were supposed to have the antenna up by now. We’re still receiving communications from Mission Control, but it’s been delaying by hours.” He grabs a fistful of locs then drags a hand over his face. “If we had fixed it first thing, you and Roman wouldn’t have almost gotten caught out there, and we would have known about the meteor shower.”

If only someone had mentioned fixing the antenna first. That’s right,Idid, and Jordan wanted to play around with other things.

I don’t vocalize my thoughts. It’s enough to know that I’m right. But seeing Jordan overwhelmed, I do go into fix-it mode. “This is a concern, but it’s not unfixable. As soon as this dust storm is over, we’ll get out there and repair the damage.”

Jordan has a faraway look in his eyes, and I know his mind must be whirring with different possibilities. “No, we can’t wait that long. The storm is forecasted to last another thirty-six hours. If we wait for it to end, we might miss even more critical information, or the thing will break completely, and we’ll be out of luck.”

“Or likely both,” I say. Given how it’s been onecatastrophe after another, I wouldn’t put it past the organizers to cause tragedy to strike twice in the same day. When did I become this jaded creature? “So what are you proposing we do?”

“We need to fix the antenna as soon as possible. Today if we can. I’ve been watching the camera feeds, and the dust isn’t always pouring down like this. There are stretches of time when it’s more like a passing mist. That’s when we go.”

Jordan is right. There are moments when the dust lets up. If we want the simulation to succeed, that will be the best time to go.

“Okay,” I agree. “We continue to monitor, then go when visibility is best. What will we be doing out there? How do we fix it? I want to be prepared.”

Before, Jordan had Angie and Simone to help him. With Simone gone, I assume I’ll be taking her place.

“About that,” Jordan begins. “The last part of fixing the antenna involves replacing some hardware. It’s kind of high up there. We’d probably need someone with some good arm reach. You know, someone with a long torso. We’ll need someone with long legs, too.”

“I get it,” I cut in. “I’m too short. Guess I’ll be inside during the mission.”

“Hey, don’t look so glum. Every member of this team is valuable. You’ll provide much-needed support over comms.”

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