Hope, Levy, Marc [good summer reads TXT] 📗

people crazy enough to mock death, and you’ll raise a glass to how smart we were. And that will be the first and last time you ever mention me. Because then you’ll need to let him be him.”

“Are you hearing yourself? It’s the world upside down, Joshy.”

“Maybe. But trust me. It’ll be more beautiful than the right way up.”

Hope promised to think about it. She didn’t believe him for a second, but there was something in Josh’s eyes, a glimmer of hope. And although she quite liked the idea that he might just be a little crazier than she had thought, she couldn’t bear the idea of him losing hope.

“Let’s go home,” she said after a while. “I want us to be together at home, far away from this beach tomb. I hope that little wooden airplane I gave you isn’t in the suitcase. That cost me a fortune. And I liked it.”

They caught the ferry back in the late afternoon and watched the clouds to pass the time. From the deck, Hope spotted one that looked like a horse, and then Josh saw one that looked exactly like a hippopotamus.

Bart was waiting for Hope when the ferry docked. His patience must have run out while he waited, because that night, he made her pay the price.

Hope bolted upright in bed in the wee hours with an ear-piercing scream, clutching her head, and Josh struggled to force her arms down by her sides. He grabbed his phone, but Hope begged him not to call the hospital. She could get Bart under control, she pleaded; it would just be a matter of minutes and everything would be back to normal.

It lasted a full hour. When Hope’s whimpers finally faded, she was so exhausted that she fell back into Josh’s arms.

Life could be a bitch, or so they said. But Hope thought death was an even bigger one.

When she had regained a little of her strength, she got up and went to sit in the living room. Josh brought her a glass of water and sat down next to her. She rested her head on his shoulder and began talking to him about their discussion on the beach. She agreed, she said. She would do it.

13

Josh had spent the entire night watching over Hope as she slept. Early the next morning, he slunk into the living room to get dressed without disturbing her.

It took him half an hour to pedal as fast as he could through the suburbs as he raced into town. Before leaving, he had texted Luke and told him to meet him at the campus cafeteria as soon as possible.

Luke was waiting for him when he arrived, and had bought them coffee and two chocolate croissants. Josh talked him through the plan.

When classes ended for the day, Luke set off for the Center and created a new break in the server that he indexed under the code name “Sleeping Beauty” and was careful not to tell Josh.

Back at the loft, Josh spent the afternoon molding a perfect imprint of Hope’s skull. To make sure it was as precise as possible, he’d had the idea of covering her head in several layers of aluminum, which he shaped until they hugged the curves of her head. Hope’s hair was so short now, it wasn’t hard to do.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Hope laughed at her eccentric new hat. Josh did, too, but he remained focused, and once the imprint was taken, he stuffed it with newspaper so it would keep its shape, placed it in a cardboard box, and caught a bus to the Center, where Luke scanned it in. By the end of the night, the second Neurolink headset prototype emerged from the 3D printer before being plunged into a cell-culture bath.

Over the next few days, Luke kept careful watch over the process, making sure the organic receptors interconnected on the headset sides and taking care that none proliferated in the area where her tumor was located.

Josh was worried that the electric stimulations could trigger Bart, who seemed to have kept very quiet since Hope’s last big migraine. When Luke suggested they seek Flinch’s opinion, Josh worried the professor would forbid them to run the project. If Flinch found out what they were doing, which Luke believed was only a matter of time, considering the number of sessions needed, there was a strong chance he would never forgive them for lying to him a second time.

When Josh asked him which he was more concerned about, Hope or his career, Luke decided to let it slide. Josh was on edge, and he was tired. Luke pretended he hadn’t heard.

The next morning, Flinch found a note on his desk when he walked into his office. And that evening, a second roadside meeting took place. Flinch took a few thoughtful drags of his cigarette before replying.

“What I’m hearing is upsetting. I’m very sorry to hear this, I assure you. That being said, I’m afraid your plans sound a little utopian.”

“Maybe,” Josh replied tightly. “But even in good health, sometimes you need a little utopia to keep living.”

“That’s true, just as despair often inspires us to believe everything and anything.”

“Despair must be a godsend for research, then.”

“Don’t be disrespectful,” Flinch warned.

“I’m not disrespectful. The tumor in my girlfriend’s brain is.”

“You do understand what you’re trying to achieve, don’t you?”

“I’m trying.”

“Having said that,” Flinch mused, “there is something quite poetic about helping someone in her situation when I myself am a dead man walking.”

“Are you sick?” Luke asked.

“No, just aging. But you’ll come to see that at some point, age and illness become the same thing.”

“Please, Professor,” Josh begged. “Let us try.”

“Oh please, quit with the begging! There’s no place for begging in science. Be quiet, and let me think.”

Flinch looked down at his loafers, stamped out his cigarette, and lit a fresh one.

“Okay then! After