The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O. (D.O.D.O. #1)

by Neal Stephenson

shaped. He caught himself smiling, blushed, and looked away. They were strong and fast, those two rowers, for such an unwieldy boat cutting across the current. The older brother was nearer to me, avoiding my gaze; I found my eyes straying from the water to him, and enjoyed watching his movements, sure and confident and smooth despite the oppressive heat and his heavy clothes. He must have felt my stare, for at one moment, between strokes, he turned slightly to look at me, and—as if despite himself—he smiled shyly. I smiled back. He blushed again and looked away. I had not expected Puritan flirtation! When we got to the north bank of the Charles, there was another dock at which the boat was roped, and two boys there waiting. I’d watched them splashing water at each other as we approached, and laughing merrily, but now they were all business. I envied them the freedom to frolic in the river—it looked wonderfully cooling. The palisades came down to the river’s edge a stone’s throw to either side of the landing, creating a sense of urgency and purpose, the pretense of a city without any sign of one from here. I’d have to walk several hundred yards up the slope, nearly to the future Harvard Square,