So I told him and he got pretty upset.

Have so much fun and tell your cousin I said hi!

Ambrose caught a glimpse of a red and brown sleeve as Ambrose 47 reached through the doorway and was repelled by the swarm of data. His eyes and ears felt huge as the multitude of sights and sounds skimmed along the surface of his body. The upgrade was shutting down. He moved toward a hazy outline of wan light. A smell like burning hair made him hold his breath. He thought about Mistletoe and tried to put himself in her place: what would she do if she found herself in a new world that wasn’t so different from the old one? Where would she go? As he emerged from the wreckage of the life that had been laid out for him, Ambrose was pretty sure he knew where to look.

17. Friends

17

FRIENDS

MISTLETOE WAS wondering if anybody was home when a little rectangle slid open in the center of the door and a hazel eye peered out. She thought it was probably up to her to make introductions, but she couldn’t even begin to explain the situation, especially not from the front step.

Then it occurred to her that she didn’t have to explain anything, that maybe it was better if she didn’t.

“Hi,” she said.

The eye narrowed.

“My name is Mistletoe. I’m…” What was she? Tired? Scared? Confused? “Thirsty.”

The rectangle slid closed. A second later the door swung open.

It was Aunt Dita. Her features were sharper, almost like one of the Chmura Dité, but it was definitely her. She was even wearing the yellow scarf. Mistletoe had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from jumping into her arms.

With a quick look, Dita considered the topside stranger on her front steps. “You’re a long way from home,” she said flatly, with just a trace of her familiar accent. She didn’t step aside or invite Mistletoe in.

“I’m also lost.”

Dita laughed. “How’d you manage to get all the way down here?”

“It’s complicated.” Mistletoe’s heart was pounding. I’m talking to Aunt Dita, she thought. And she has no idea who I am. It didn’t seem real.

Dita glanced over her shoulder. “Jiri! Bring water.”

Mistletoe heard grumbling from inside the house, followed by loud clattering and muffled curses. Dita flashed a weary smile.

“So … do you need help getting home?”

“No,” Mistletoe said, almost adding I am home.

There was a long pause. Jiri appeared with a glass of cloudy liquid. “Water,” he said, handing the glass to Mistletoe without any hesitation, as if thirsty strangers were a way of life around here.

“This is … Mistletoe?” Dita said.

Mistletoe nodded, gulping down the water. It tasted sulfurous and a little gritty, and it was the best drink she’d ever had.

“Mistletoe,” Jiri said. “Hmpph.”