coffee. It’s all I’ve ordered; turns out I wasn’t hungry after all. ‘Maybe it’s not harmless to them. I mean, what made them look for each other
after all this time? Both of them are married, right? They’re middle-aged, they’ve got kids, they’ve got lives that are flying around them faster than they can deal with, and yet
they found the time to make this connection?’
‘That’s my point. Why not just dive into the full fantasy? That’s what they’re there for.’
‘If they do that, it becomes real, doesn’t it? At that point, they have fully admitted – to themselves and to each other – how unhappy they really are. And if they can
take that step in NextLife, what’s to stop them from taking that step outside in reality?’
‘Well, first of all, she lives in Atlanta and he lives in Spokane.’
‘Distance can be overcome.’
‘It’s totally different, though, Nick. Just because you do something online doesn’t mean you’re gonna do it in the real world.’
‘No, I suppose it doesn’t,’ I agree. I’m playing devil’s advocate, I realize, and I’m getting tired. If I keep it up, we’ll still be here two hours from
now, and I’ve got an important day tomorrow, so I can’t let that happen. I have to cut things short. ‘You going back to the office?’ I ask.
She nods. ‘I’ve got to. I’ve got another twenty hours I’ve got to make up before Friday or I’m gonna be short on my time sheets. You’d know that, if you were
even a half-assed boss.’
‘I’ve never worried about your ability to get the work done,’ I say. ‘You have better stamina than anyone I’ve ever met for crawling around in other people’s
fucked-up fantasies.’
‘Hey, it beats working for a living. You going back?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve got a management meeting at ten, and I’d like to get a little sleep before then.’
‘Management meeting, huh? We talkin’ IPO?’
I smile at her. Some secrets I can still keep to myself. ‘Come on,’ I say. ‘I’ll walk you back.’
‘Why? You think I can’t take care of myself?’
She is a rare specimen. ‘I’m not worried about you,’ I say. ‘I’m trying to protect the muggers.’
CHAPTER TWO
The drive home feels apocalyptic. It’s nearing two in the morning, and the streets are deserted. The traffic lights blink from green to yellow to red without purpose,
like lonely reminders of a civilization long passed. The people are gone, but the machines we have created to manage our lives move sadly along. I cross the threshold from the liberal college
enclave of Cambridge into the working-class neighborhood of Charlestown, where generations have lived in proximity to the wealth of Boston, feeding off it, making their living as hard-working
painters and plumbers and handymen to the elite on Beacon Hill and in the Back Bay. It’s a town that’s proud of its heritage and of its gruff, blue-collar ways; proud even of the strain
of local criminal gangs that filters through the projects. It’s a place where the hard are revered and the soft are swallowed.
No one is prouder of Charlestown and all it stands for than my mother. She’s lived here her entire life, and has made it clear that she will never leave. Not while she’s breathing,
and not thereafter. She purchased her cemetery plot down by the O’Brien Highway in cash to make sure there are no issues with her being planted here for good.
I love Ma. I know it seems unnecessary to verbalize that; I mean, every boy loves his mother, right? And yet for me, it’s not always as easy as that. Ma’s a hard woman. Hard and
demanding. Always has been. Her father was in the rackets back in the days when the gangs had real muscle. She grew up in that world, and it’s where she’s always felt most comfortable.
My father was part of that world, too, until he was killed in an accident when I was seven. I was told he fell off a ladder on a construction job. I stopped believing that
after all this time? Both of them are married, right? They’re middle-aged, they’ve got kids, they’ve got lives that are flying around them faster than they can deal with, and yet
they found the time to make this connection?’
‘That’s my point. Why not just dive into the full fantasy? That’s what they’re there for.’
‘If they do that, it becomes real, doesn’t it? At that point, they have fully admitted – to themselves and to each other – how unhappy they really are. And if they can
take that step in NextLife, what’s to stop them from taking that step outside in reality?’
‘Well, first of all, she lives in Atlanta and he lives in Spokane.’
‘Distance can be overcome.’
‘It’s totally different, though, Nick. Just because you do something online doesn’t mean you’re gonna do it in the real world.’
‘No, I suppose it doesn’t,’ I agree. I’m playing devil’s advocate, I realize, and I’m getting tired. If I keep it up, we’ll still be here two hours from
now, and I’ve got an important day tomorrow, so I can’t let that happen. I have to cut things short. ‘You going back to the office?’ I ask.
She nods. ‘I’ve got to. I’ve got another twenty hours I’ve got to make up before Friday or I’m gonna be short on my time sheets. You’d know that, if you were
even a half-assed boss.’
‘I’ve never worried about your ability to get the work done,’ I say. ‘You have better stamina than anyone I’ve ever met for crawling around in other people’s
fucked-up fantasies.’
‘Hey, it beats working for a living. You going back?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve got a management meeting at ten, and I’d like to get a little sleep before then.’
‘Management meeting, huh? We talkin’ IPO?’
I smile at her. Some secrets I can still keep to myself. ‘Come on,’ I say. ‘I’ll walk you back.’
‘Why? You think I can’t take care of myself?’
She is a rare specimen. ‘I’m not worried about you,’ I say. ‘I’m trying to protect the muggers.’
CHAPTER TWO
The drive home feels apocalyptic. It’s nearing two in the morning, and the streets are deserted. The traffic lights blink from green to yellow to red without purpose,
like lonely reminders of a civilization long passed. The people are gone, but the machines we have created to manage our lives move sadly along. I cross the threshold from the liberal college
enclave of Cambridge into the working-class neighborhood of Charlestown, where generations have lived in proximity to the wealth of Boston, feeding off it, making their living as hard-working
painters and plumbers and handymen to the elite on Beacon Hill and in the Back Bay. It’s a town that’s proud of its heritage and of its gruff, blue-collar ways; proud even of the strain
of local criminal gangs that filters through the projects. It’s a place where the hard are revered and the soft are swallowed.
No one is prouder of Charlestown and all it stands for than my mother. She’s lived here her entire life, and has made it clear that she will never leave. Not while she’s breathing,
and not thereafter. She purchased her cemetery plot down by the O’Brien Highway in cash to make sure there are no issues with her being planted here for good.
I love Ma. I know it seems unnecessary to verbalize that; I mean, every boy loves his mother, right? And yet for me, it’s not always as easy as that. Ma’s a hard woman. Hard and
demanding. Always has been. Her father was in the rackets back in the days when the gangs had real muscle. She grew up in that world, and it’s where she’s always felt most comfortable.
My father was part of that world, too, until he was killed in an accident when I was seven. I was told he fell off a ladder on a construction job. I stopped believing that
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