The Oracle Year(21)

“Can it?”

“Not as far as we can tell. Everything so far has happened just like he dreamed it, even when we try to get in the way of a prediction, or push it in another direction. It just . . . doesn’t work.”

“Creepy.”

“It’s actually a great thing from a sales perspective—means we can have confidence in our product . . . but yeah. Not everything Will knows is good, and he’s getting wrapped up in the causality of the whole thing. He’s wrong—none of these things are his fault—but I sympathize. It’s not easy for him.”

Hamza paused and looked across the kitchen for a moment.

“He’s probably the most famous person in the world, but not really in a good way. You know how people feel about him. Half are terrified of what a guy out there who sees the future means, and the other half are terrified and they want to kill him.”

“Not everyone.”

Hamza rolled his eyes.

“Oh, sure,” he said. “Crazies who think he’s the second coming, maybe, or UFO freaks.”

Miko shook her head.

“No, that’s not true. My students are fascinated with him. He confirms their suspicions—they’re still young enough to think there’s magic in the world, and the Oracle plays right into that. And I’ve had lots of conversations with people who think it’s hopeful that the Oracle’s around. It means there’s a plan. Life isn’t just random.”

She wrapped her hands around her glass of water.

“I hope so, anyway,” she added.

“Why’s that?” Hamza asked.

Miko looked up and met his eyes.

“Because I’m pregnant,” she said.

Hamza sat, stunned.

“Okay,” Miko said. “Now tell me why we need an island.”





Chapter 9




“Christ, look at this,” Eddie said.

Union Square was filled by a mass of people—a demonstration of some kind, maybe a protest. Signs poked out of the crowd here and there, too far away for Leigh to read.

“Don’t turn, Eddie,” Leigh said. “I want to see what’s happening.”

“If I don’t get off Broadway, we’ll get stuck in that clusterfuck,” Eddie said, pointing to the snarl of traffic ahead of them, cars inching along through the overflow of pedestrians from the square. “We’re already going to be late, and if we don’t turn, we’re going to be so late that the guy you’re supposed to interview will be long gone by the time we get there.”

“I’ll take responsibility,” Leigh said. “Just get closer.”

Eddie shrugged and left the queue of cars preparing to turn off Broadway. The van inched closer to Union Square, and Leigh realized that most of the signs had at least one word in common—Oracle.

“I know what this is,” she said. “The Oracle demonstration.”

“That’s today?”

“Sure as hell looks like it,” Leigh answered. “I want to get in there. This is huge. I had no idea it would be this big.”

“Oh, Leigh, no. You can’t.”

“This is more important. We can get past the barricade with our press pass.”

Eddie’s hands remained frozen at ten and two on the steering wheel.

“I’m sure New York 1 has it covered,” he said.

“Just do it, Eddie!”

Leigh tossed her notes for the interview with some celebrity chef she had been scheduled to meet—oh, fifteen minutes ago—on the van’s dash. She turned and snagged her purse from the back and plopped it on her lap, rummaging through it for a notebook and a pen. Tools secured, she shoved the bag to the floor and started composing a cold open, jotting down questions for prospective interviewees in the margins.

She felt frigid air as Eddie rolled down the window to flash his press credentials at the police officers manning the barricade, and was dimly aware of the van’s slow progress as it nosed its way through the crowd to find a spot to park.

“All right,” Eddie said, turning off the van’s engine. “Let’s do this and go. You’d better stick up for me if Reimer gets a hair up his ass about it.”

“He won’t fire us for missing some dumb interview,” Leigh said, checking her makeup in the mirror on the sunshade. “It was filler, just in case some other piece ran a little short on the edit.”

“He won’t fire you because you missed the interview. He’ll fire you because he already thinks he should have fired you because of the stunt you pulled with that Site story you ran. I don’t know why you insist on giving him ammunition by doing shit like this.”

Leigh looked at him, annoyed.

“If that’s how you feel, then why did you stop?”

Eddie grinned at her and opened the driver’s-side door.

“Because I want to see what’s happening too. And if Reimer does get pissed, I know it’ll all land on you. I’m too talented to replace.”

Leigh snorted.

They got out of the van, Eddie sliding open the passenger-side door to pull out his camera, battery packs, and assorted additional gear. Leigh checked her own equipment—her wireless microphone and its connection to the signal pack clipped to her belt in the back, under her coat. Satisfied that everything was working properly, she buttoned up her long coat and adjusted her scarf, pulled on her gloves, and snagged her notebook from the front seat of the van.