They stopped and watched a cleanup mech zip by, scanning for dropped garbage or unscooped canine deposits. The small wheeled device expertly avoided pedestrians while checking all corners of the path.

Kemp smiled. “I’ve started thinking in terms of bucket lists. This may all be gone, soon. We might be gone, soon, depending on how the thing plays out. The computer will make a decision when it makes a decision, and there will be no recourse, no appeal.” He sighed and looked up to the sky. “Usually in movies, the final battle is a little more dramatic.”

“And closer to home.”

“Mm.”

Silences between them were comfortable. When one of them did say something it wasn’t an awkward attempt to fill the air with words. As such, each exchange was interesting and appreciated. Almost without realizing it, they found themselves holding hands as they walked through the trees. And that was fine, too.

They came to the suspension bridge—a construction of rope and wooden planks—stretched 140 meters across the Capilano River.

Narang stopped so suddenly that she almost skidded. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

Kemp grinned at her. “It’s deliberately designed to look rickety, like the original bridge, but those ropes are reinforced with carbon-fiber, and the planks are backed by a nanotube mesh. You couldn’t take this thing down with a hacksaw.”

He waved a hand at the bridge. “They completely replaced the old bridge in the mid-21st century when the park was deeded to the municipality. Can’t have liability issues, you know.”

Narang glanced at him uncertainly, then stepped onto the bridge proper. When it didn’t immediately collapse and plunge them into the gorge, she release her breath and took another step.

“Good,” Kemp said. “Just don’t break into a jog. The other pedestrians hate that.”

She chuckled at the mental image, and they walked across the bridge, her hand gripping his perhaps a little more tightly than really required.

As they stepped off the other end, she glanced sideways at Kemp. “How do you think it’ll happen?”

“You mean whatever the computer decides to do? Don’t know exactly, but I’m sure it will involve nanites. Best case, we all end up metal. Worst case, we all end up goo.”

“I’ve never had time for a serious relationship,” Narang said. “Always too focused on my career. Funny, they say those are the things you regret when you’re older.” She gave a rueful snort. “Or when the world is about to end, strangely.”

“I’m in sort of the same boat. Maybe not driven, as such, but I’ve always loved space. I’ve spent most of my professional life on spaceships. But, y’know, I could call that done, now, and not regret it.”

They walked for a few more moments, still hand in hand. Then, without a word being spoken, they turned and headed back to Kemp’s house.

* * *