UNDERGROUND
In early 1989, when Theorem stepped off the plane which carried her from Switzerland to San Francisco, she was pleased that she had managed to keep a promise to herself. It wasnโt always an easy promise. There were times of intimacy, of perfect connection, between the two voices on opposite sides of the globe, when it seemed so breakable.
Meanwhile, Par braced himself. Theorem had described herself in such disparaging terms. He had even heard from others on Altos that she was homely. But that description had ultimately come from her anyway, so it didnโt really count.
Finally, as he watched the stream of passengers snake out to the waiting area, he told himself it didnโt matter anyway. After all, he had fallen in love with her โ her being, her essence โ not her image as it appeared in flesh. And he had told her so. She had said the same back to him.
Suddenly she was there, in front of him. Par had to look up slightly to reach her eyes, since she was a little more than an inch taller. She was quite pretty, with straight, brown shoulder-length hair and brown eyes. He was just thinking how much more attractive she was than he had expected, when it happened.
Theorem smiled.
Par almost lost his balance. It was a devastating smile, big and toothy, warm and genuine. Her whole face lit up with a fire of animation. That smile sealed it.
She had kept her promise to herself. There was no clear image of Par in her mind before meeting him in person. After meeting a few people from Altos at a party in Munich the year before, she had tried not to create images of people based on their on-line personalities. That way she would never suffer disappointment.
Par and Theorem picked up her bags and got into Brianโs car. Brian, a friend who offered to play airport taxi because Par didnโt have a car, thought Theorem was pretty cool. A six-foot- tall French-speaking Swiss woman. It was definitely cool. They drove back to Parโs house. Then Brian came in for a chat.
Brian asked Theorem all sorts of questions. He was really