The Choices We Make

“I choose him.” The picture I hold up is in my eyes that of an extraordinary man. However, my billionaire father scoffs.

My father never one to agree with my decisions says, “What is wrong with the man I picked?”

Ha. My father purposely chose a man that is knifing me in the back. But I cannot tell by dear old dad this, because he is working behind my back for my father. So, I tell a different truth. “I need someone different. I choose him.” The picture I hold up is in my eyes an extraordinary man.

However, my billionaire father scoffs. Dad refuses to accept, “Yours is a peasant. He is an unknown. He is to kind. He is a sucker who will not last a week.”

I hear this mantra from my dad all the time. He says it incessantly. For this reason, I came prepared. But I initially look surprised. I enquire in a false stupefied voice, “Do you really think he is not good enough?”

My dad reacts with the customary response. “Okay.” He puts his hands in the air. It is an empty gesture of surrender. His punchline follows. “Kindness is good, but this Rian has no proven evolutionary skills. He needs evolutionary skills to keeps us on top in our business. You take an exorbitant family risk. What if he does not bear fruit?”

I can be a witty animal, “Ah,” I reply, “I did not know bearing fruit was the key male selection criteria.” I pause again, but this time for just a moment. Then, as if a lightning bolt enters me, I perk up and sit straight, “Wait a minute. I thought I was the fruit bearer in this planned relationship.”

My mom grins. My dad scowls.

This is the crux of the family meeting no pun intended. I am to wed a man for an interesting fruitful purpose. I dramatically inject before either parent can add to the family meeting. “Oh, here.” I rip out a page from Rian’s dossier. I wave the ripped page at dear ole dad. “It says right here that Rian grew up with a lemon, an orange and several apricot trees in his backyard.” Tongue in cheek, I say, “I think this shows he will satisfy both my sweet and sour moods.” I dead pan add, “Come on, this definitely shows he is a man for all seasons. Get it? Seasons. I need a man that appreciates me covered with seasonal fruits and spices.” If you cannot tell, I am the prima ballerina type. My audience does not appreciate me. I throw up my hands in disgust. I get up to leave.

My mom intervenes. She does in these father-daughter battles. She uncompromisingly orders me, “Sit.”

I do not want to, but I oh, so, reluctantly, ever, so slowly, sit back down.

But I will not give in. I voice my mind. “He fits both business and pleasure. After all, a girl needs eye candy as well as mind candy.” I pause for dramatic effect. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see my mom observing me curiously. My dad on the other hand is already brushing aside my decision. I interject before he has a chance to spit his opinions out, “I need to mix intelligence with seduction. He fills that need.”

Now, my mom on the other hand has a smile on her face. She says the obvious, “You are picking an unknown.” She enquires of me, “Who is he? Why select him?”

I explain, “I have selection criteria. He fits them. I am not going to marry some idiot just because you all,” and I look at both of my parents, one and then the other, “think a mental IQ weirdo is good for the business.” I pause to let my dagger filled words rest in the quiet space. I add, “The current man is boring. I need more.” And, someone on my side, although I cannot hint at this. “I did my homework. This is why I made my selection. He is hands down better than the particulars of any of the guys that dear ole dad recommends.”

My father clarifies for me, “The men I chose for you are all smart guys. Each is a potential Nobel Artificial Intelligence laureate.”

He does not get my point. I hasten to bridge our gap of misunderstanding. “Ahem. I compared each of dad’s prospects to him.” I wave Rian’s picture at them again. “Rian has that special something. Nobody else does it for me.”

My father’s expected retaliation comes. “Your guy is a complete unknown. I don’t see him as a winning strategy.”

“Ah,” I respond setting him up, “you think the past predicts the future.” But in my heart, I now know my dad’s selections are likely all nominated as they will work for him and against me.

My father’s calculated response comes as anticipated. “I think the AI algorithm program I developed to forecast from the past a good future husband for you is way better than whatever your approach is.”

I swivel my head around to look at my mom, who is smiling broadly. I wonder if she knows. She does have a cheshire cat grin on her face. I do not have time to think through what my mom may have gathered thought. My strategy involves upsetting my father’s carefully layered backstabbing plans. To wit, I spring my second surprise. “I developed my own AI algorithm. I applied evolutionary principles, the need for danger, a hint of mystery, the desire for wisdom and a bit of temptation.”

My mom laughs. I look again to her. Ah, maybe she knows exactly what I am up to. I punch through anyhow without hesitating. After all, fools like me go where angels fear. “I find the idea that you need me to bear an evolutionary wonder kind offspring or two fascinating. But I will not be a babe thrown over the fence to mate with some idiot. I did my homework. I researched the evolutionary issue myself.”

I look at first mom and secondly dad. My mom looks encouragingly at me. For once, dad is speechless. Hmm, does he think this little of me? I am beginning to see this is true, but I let the thought go, for now. I deliver my technical speech, “The last great ice age 20,000 years ago produced a huge increase in IQ for our foremothers and forefathers. The IQ increase resulted from two factors. First, they learned how to survive in the extreme ice age by developing new skills. Second, it was survival of the fittest within a large population and my foremothers and forefathers not only survived but thrived. These factors pushed my and your hereditary ancestors to new IQ highs.”

I push a button. The projector screen lights up. I point to the information on the screen, “I programmed my AI algorithm to mimic the Ice Age approach search for a perfect mate in stressful situations. Here is a list of Rian’s particulars. Alongside his talents, I show my father’s current pick, David. “You will see.” I add. “If you review Rian’s characteristics, he fits the evolutionary requirements better, deals with danger, resolves mysteries, is emotionally available and intellectually smart, and he enjoys a good tease. This is the man I will have.”

My father battles back. “No, he has not amounted to much. He is not a king of industry or a Nobel scientist Artificial Intelligence contender.”

I charmingly agree. “This is true. You are so right daddy.” But I have no intention of accepting one of my father’s calculated picks, again.

Dear old conniving dad interrupts me before I can say more. From his bully pulpit, he growls, “Rian shows no extraordinary spectacular qualities.” Then, my father pauses eyeing me warily. He knows he has perhaps fallen into a third trap. He now knows I am not pliant and a willingly docile daughter who agrees to opinions and directions I find disagreeable and faulty.

Father yields the floor to see what his impatiently, temporarily patient, daughter has to say in response. I inform his majesty (I jest), “Your AI algorithm is the problem. You formulated a method that focuses only on materialistic feats. This is on top of the fact that your current selection is a wierdo. In this Artificial Intelligence age your criteria are not the qualities that will produce another jump in IQ, which is what I aim to achieve. Think about it. Nobel scientists in Artificial Intelligence do not fight to survive. Whereas, Rian, fights every day to survive. He is the exact opposite of your choice or the 15 other you now recommend. He is a poor individual but with an amazing intellect. He not only survives, but he thrives happily in dangerous situations while solving everyday mysteries. He takes chances when it is calculated to work or his intuitional sense tells him. This is how he is open to the supernatural and the spiritual unknown, which works within him. He is called the Spiritual One and I believe it is for this logical reason. For comparison, your selections do not know how to step out of the way of danger and into the supernatural. I want children borne with Rian as he will give my children the real IQ edge going forward.”

Dad shakes his head no. “I will not have a shaman guru spiritual guide run the Artificial Intelligence business. Spiritual idiots are a poor divining rod for our needed genetic line adjustments in the future.This simply is unacceptable.” He pounds the table to make his point.

I look to mom, as I complete my argument, “He is my programmed AI algorithm evolutionary choice. He is not a guru nut. He rarely drinks alcohol, which is one reason why he maintains his high IQ. Besides, I do not want a man who gets drunk, unlike a few of dad’s potential Nobel Artificial Intelligence scientist’s recommendations. Rian does not smoke either, another human emotional crutch that lowers IQ. Another reason I picked him is that he does not watch much TV, which additively lowers IQ too. Physically, his BMI is within the normal range. He is fit. He runs 3.5 miles a day. He does not eat too much sugar. These my algorithm says highlight the reasons why his IQ will remain high, which I need in my man. I had his DNA extracted. His genes perfectly offset mine where needed. Most importantly,” I pause here for effect, “I agree with my AI algorithm. I love his sculptured body. My mind likes his eye candy.”

I look to see mom listening approvingly. This astonishes me. She next offers up positive support on my behalf, as she speaks to dad, “Honey, Grace is showing us she analyzed the situation in her own way. I find her method more than plausible. Her pick fits her criteria and those criteria fit with Grace’s character. She obviously feels the need for her husband to have these qualities, which are ones I admittedly admire too. She feels a connection with this earthling over any of the others.”

I am surprised at my mom siding with me, but I eagerly go along with her spoken thoughts. I nod my head decisively in the affirmative. “Yes, this is my decision. He is my pick.” I cross my arms signaling no intention of budging.

My mother nods once to me. She turns back to my father, “Dear, intuition is part of the evolutionary process. It is an important stepping stone component.”

I am thinking, way to go mom. I am also thinking that maybe she is not in on dad’s backstabbing.

My father volleys back with his repetitive no-go response, “He is poor. He is not nearly as special as any of the others.”

I retort. “But he is special. First in his class.” I want to add. Besides, he is not beholden to you and your company. But I will not fire this torpedo.

My father’s shrugs his shoulder. “But he turned down promising offers to be a spiritual spy. Again, the other 15 are far more advanced.”

I bristle. My father can do that to me. “He has the same IQ or better. And, your picks have no light.”

“Ahem,” my mother interrupts refereeing the battle, “your daughter makes very good points. Rian’s skills are beyond what one usually sees in even advanced humans. He exhibits an intuitive evolutionary sense. I like her pick.”

My father stops to think. “Okay.”

For a moment I am elated. I won. Then, I sense dear ole dad relented way too easy. I wonder what is up.

My father lets the silence drag for a long moment, before he speaks, “I see that you both find Grace’s pick has more potential than anyone else. We will test him.”

I am terribly suspicious. I carefully look at my dad trying to feel inside him for his ulterior motive. I know he has one. I want answers, “Why does he need a test? And, what type of test?”

My dad responds, “We use a test to evaluate his qualities in a live action scenario. If he folds, then we go back to square one and you choose another. If he wins, then you have your boy-toy.”

The room is quiet. Both mom and dad look at me.

I scrunch up my nose. I smell trouble. Still, I like the name boy-toy. It has a certain ring to it. Yet, I know my father will try and backstab me with the test.

My mother scores the boxing match. “It is settled. We will develop a live action scenario for this Rian. Grace will appear as part of the scenario. Let us see if Rian selects Grace.”

My father always ready to argue the small stuff puts up a fight, “Why does Grace need to be in the scenario?”

“Honey,” my mom says looking again at my father and using a sweet voice. “It is her choice.”

I nod my head thinking we are through. I do not feel that I have won. But I have not lost. I am in the scenario, so I can help tilt the playing field in my direction.

My father tosses out one more hand grenade. “Grace, let me ask you a question.”

I squint at dad.

He enquires, “How are you going to get him on board with you?”

I sit back. “You mean Rian?”

My father smiles. “Yes, him.”

Oh, I love easy questions. I grin in response. “I will play hard to get. I think I will play a poor mysterious seductive woman. Rian will be putty in my hands.” A girl can dream.