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These are rapists with flippers. Their entire society is like a bad prison drama. And by 2030 their show is going to be canceled. Because of Fairmont? No. Because there are no more women. They’ve been on this crash course for fifteen million years. They haven’t learned. Now Darwin says it’s their time to go. But that’s not even the worst part. Do you want go deeper?”
    “Shut up.”
    “The truth is that all of the information I gave you is out there. It took me ten minutes to get it off the Internet. It would have taken you the same—”
    “Shut up!”
    “—time to find it. But you didn’t look. And I know it’s not because you’re dumb or lazy. Quite the opposite. You’re an extraordinary woman. You just didn’t want to know. You were offered a free trip to Hawaii to do something you believed in. How often does a chance like that come along? I’m sorry it got ruined for you, that’s all. That’s what too much truth can do. That’s why people like me exist.”
    Deb pressed her fist against her lips. I wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or deck me. Either way, I figured the greatest gift I could give her now was my lifelong absence.
    “You’re going to go far, Deb. You’re going to do wonderful things. But my well-meaning advice is to get over it, join your friends, and have one hell of a vacation. You deserve it, okay? Take it easy.”
    She resumed her westward gaze. I took a short breath, nodded, and started on my merry way.
    “Scott...”
    I stopped and turned around. She tensely chewed on her words.
    “I appreciate what you no doubt saw as an attempt to cheer me up. And I also appreciate the wisdom you shared. You’re right. There are twelve sides to every story. Here’s mine. You’re a bastard. You’re a bastard who took advantage of my good nature in order to get my clothes off, in order to make more money for your corporate overlords, in order to make more money for yourself. The fact that you think a free vacation could possibly make up for how disgusting I feel shows how little you understand women. Or anyone, for that matter. You may excuse yourself for being such a moral cripple because that’s the way you think the world works, but there’s another layer to that. Do you want to go deeper?”
    “Deb—”
    “The deeper truth is that you are going to live a long, destructive life. You’re going to keep doing terrible things. And when you’re in your deathbed at a hundred and three, you’re going to realize that it didn’t mean a damn thing. None of it. You know why? Because it’ll finally occur to you that nobody’s going to miss you. You could die today and nobody would miss you. In fact, most of us will be happy to forget you even existed. Why don’t we get that process started, okay? Get the fuck out of my sight. Get the fuck out of my life. And Scott? For the sake of the world, please don’t live to be a hundred and three.”
     
    ________________
     
    Fifteen minutes later, I joined Miranda and the Metropia crew at the airstrip. David was staying behind with the students. I wasn’t. My work here was done. I’d had quite enough of the sisters.
    “Where were you?” asked Miranda.
    “Talking to Deb.”
    “Oh, boy. Did she rip you a new one?”
    “She wasn’t happy.”
    “You think she’ll sue?”
    “Nah.”
    I figured Deb would be hard-pressed to ever mention it again, for whatever reasons. Shame. Embarrassment. Melodramatic self-pity. Take your pick. She wouldn’t even tell her fellow coeds what she had learned. She’d think she was being noble in hiding the truth from them, in not killing their fun. She wouldn’t see the utter hypocrisy. She’d just hate me for trying to do the same thing.
    Whatever. I’ve learned not to take these things personally. It would be vain, ludicrous, and an all-around waste of time to treat her harsh opinion as some accurate reflection of who I was. Her final words to me—which she was no doubt proud of—had been shaped