Chapter 01
Credit ratings, relationship ratings, ethical ratings… everyone was screwed the way technology had dynamited society. AI—the next big thing in evolution, as far as most people were concerned, but not him. It was hard to respect something that could think for him, think like him, and then make decisions for him. No, he wanted his mind for himself. He had no interest in displaying his thoughts and ideas for everyone to see like some movie theatre projector pouring his deepest and darkest from his eyes. Maybe they were the windows to the soul with the implants and upgrades. Better, bigger, now! iPhones were no longer physical phones—no screen to crack or shell to bend by accident. Now, he had a chip in his arm doing everything the anachronistic handheld-device had done. He huffed and shook his head. The coffee shop hummed with conversations and orders, like bees busy making their honey. It smelled good, if you liked burnt coffee beans and pastry that came out of a frozen carton. Half-white walls and the other half brownish, with sayings in fancy lettering spread out. There was a cooling case with different foods on display: cupcakes, egg sandwiches, and more.
“So… tell me, why’d your last relationship end?” he asked the girl across from him. Clara, who liked to be called lair-uh. All she had done was drop the ‘C’ like a petal from a dying flower. He hated the dating scene, but his mother had been on him for grandchildren again, and it was time to make an attempt at being a “productive member of society”. Literally. Duty was a fickle thing.
“Oh, god.” She flipped her hair, all long and stringy blonde, probably dyed one too many times.
“Well, he said…” She wasn’t his type. She was too thin, too frail, and if first glances were a guarantee, he’d think her mendacious and possibly cruel when things didn’t go her way. The sort of petty woman who would trap him in life with a child, because kids were just commodities to be traded, all over the world. It was a form of trafficking you couldn’t prove, let alone prosecute. “Lara” had a nice frame, though. Looked good for bearing children.
He watched her body language, made sure the words matched what she said. She talked with her hands, butt not too much. It seemed natural. If his gut weren’t telling him the big drop was coming, he’d have just asked her something else. The things we do for moms.
“… sometimes people lie, and I told him that I loved that about him…” She maintained eye contact, blinking as needed, “… then he asked me if I had ever cheated!” She looked harried. Her eyebrows wrinkled and lips pursed. Her hands dropped to her lap.
He cocked his head to the side, hoping she’d just finish. Hell, inviting her to finish. He licked his lips, eyes following her. “And… did you?” He said it soft, gentle—not wanting to scare the poor girl.
Something akin to bedazzling coming undone became her expression. She sighed. “Yeah. I did.”
“Okay. What’s your score?” He looked at his watch. Can probably still make basketball with the guys.
She looked like someone had just yanked a tooth. Ah. The pretty girl, beautiful girl, really was just shallow and vacuous, he surmised. Clara hesitated then turned her wrist over, palm-side up. 332 blinked to life in little digital numbers that looked like dash-art. He gave a wry smile at the vintage selection of font—or typeface—whichever society was calling it these days.
“We all make mistakes,” he attempted to reassure her. “I’ve done my share of misdeeds, but it was before all of this AI shit controlled our lives. What are you? 21? 22? I’m 40. Don’t know if your mom’s friend told you that.”
Clara nodded. “No one’s ever going to love me.” Her chest hiccuped, and she placed her hand over her mouth, a gesture probably picked up from her mother.
“They will,” he reassured her. “And, hey, if in ten years, you haven’t rebuilt your score or quotient, whatever they call it… you can always—” he leaned forwards and whispered, “—hire a hacker.” He chuckled.
She nodded halfway. Her distress was making him uncomfortable. “Well—! What about you? What’s your score?”
He picked up his coffee and took a sip, not unsurprised that she’d asked, but bewildered because it didn’t matter at this point. He put the cup down and rolled up his sleeve. The numbers burst from his wrist like a beam. He felt his face turn hot, and he tapped his arm, like that would make it stop being so… special. The numbers just meant he’d been rated a certain way, just like her, by anonymous partners, loving relationships, relationships with his parents and other family who still existed. “It’s nothing special. I don’t know why the chip made it look that way.”
She scoffed. “You were never going to ask me on a second date, were you?”
Honest to a fault, he looked at her. “No. But not because of your score or cheating.” He stood up. “Do you need a cab?”
She scoffed again. “You think you’re so much better than me. Don’t you?” If she had been standing, he thought she would put her hip out, both hands resting on them. Attitude. It was somewhat overrated.
“No. I think this whole system is fucked up. Dating has never been so vacant.”
Her eyebrows shot up and she took a deep breath. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really. Being sixteen again and asking a girl on a date after watching her from afar for a few days, weeks, months, years…. Nothing like that.” He smiled. “Come on. Let me get you a cab.”
She stood and smiled; a simple, white smile to make pretty babies gorgeous. “Okay. Thank you.” Her pants were tight, and so was her shirt. There was a little roll of skin between the band of her pants and bottom of the reddish-top. It was cute. Meant she wasn’t Perfect. The shoes lost some points for respect, though. They were multi-colored heels, great for her ass, but stupid for walking to a coffee shop in. Her legs were shapely, and she seemed to maintain a pedicure. She kept her nails, too. Damn. He wondered what the hell he was thinking. She just didn’t feel right, though. He didn’t see himself with her in twenty, thirty, whatever years this new world could restore to him. He knew he’d know when he met her. The right one. The one wrong for everyone else because she was meant for him. Meant to be with him, grow with him, love with him.
He nodded. “It’s the least I can do.”
Her eyes twinkled her sardonic agreement.
He gestured towards her elbow with his hand; she nodded and lifted it toward him. Her skin was warm and soft when he took the crook of her arm. “You’ll be great for someone. You’re young, pretty, pretty white teeth, have blonde hair. Brown eyes, but that’s not a total dealbreaker.”
Her face looked like a strawberry had kissed it. Yeah, all that fair skin would make some man happy, but not this man. Of course, not knowing what his actual type was had begun to grow wearisome. Dating sucked. Strangers trying to learn enough about each other to decide if they fancied a long-term or short-term relationship. If you wanted either. It was possible to become celibate; it was possible to self-satisfy. People ebbed and flowed on the spectrum of life, even when they didn’t want to admit it.
“You’re a gentleman. Truly.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
She headed towards the shop door, and he let her take control of the direction. Sometimes, giving up some control was good for the ego. Even his semi-inflated one.
“You’re going to think I’m a spaz,” she said, turning to him and stopping. “Mom didn’t tell me. Your name. What’s your name?”
He laughed like someone had swished a feather across his chest a few times. “It’s Kevin.” Absurd—she said spaz!
“Cool. Well, it wasn’t all bad meeting you. Kevin.” She smiled and reached for the door handle. The bell above it rang as the metal frame clacked against it.
“Take care of yourself, ’Lara’.”
She nodded and walked out with a wave. Well, he felt good about one thing: she was young enough to be his daughter, and he didn’t take the bait. He’d done some dark things in his lifetime that he wasn’t proud of, felt some dark things he wasn’t proud of, but he could say that he’d never done that. She wouldn’t understand that part of his life.
He turned. There was a shout. Arms flew into the air, and Kevin reached for a forearm seemingly falling in slow motion backwards, only to be thanked for his kindness with steaming coffee down the front of his trousers. He clamped down. There was a yelp and a hiss.
Everything went quiet. “Are you okay?” Kevin asked, pulling the woman towards him.
“Y— Yeah. I think so.”
Kevin righted himself and looked down.
His gut dropped. The even thumps in his chest had become the biggest drum he’d ever known. His hand felt little shocks like pinpricks of electricity coursing through him. He didn’t think. He took her right shoulder and steadied her. Taking a deep breath, he gave her the once-over. Face, neck, chest, midsection, hips, thighs, calves, ankles, and feet. It clicked. She was like the keyboard to his software. She clicked. She was… everything. He knew they’d be together indefinitely. His soul shook. He was nuts. She was perfect in every way, and yet he had no words.
His voice had gone on holiday, and his breath came and went in erratic puffs.
Like a Virgin played in the distance. No way this is really happening.
“Do you hear that?” he asked.
Her brow furrowed. “Hear what?”
“Madonna, Like a Virgin?”
Her expression shifted from curiosity to confusion to understanding in seconds. She laughed. She laughed like the world tickled her right there. “Clever. I appreciate the compliment, but. No.”
Kevin stared, hoping his face didn’t move for fear that he might do or say something that could jeopardize the next ten seconds. “Give me five minutes, then make up your mind. Besides, I owe you a coffee.”
She chewed the inside of her lip, never breaking eye contact. Goddamn, that was sexy. Anything—he thought, do anything to get another second with her, because this one is the one. The one like forever and ever, I do, woman. He knew he was nuts, but this kind of feeling didn’t come around every decade, in his experience. God, if you exist in this world—I beg you, don’t let me let this one get away…. Kevin knew that if he let her go, he’d never forgive himself. He didn’t know what that entailed yet, but forgiveness or guilt could wreak havoc on a brain and mental health.
“Okay, but no scores, no colors, none of that. We’re two people having a conversation in a coffee shop. We’re like those strangers you meet in a queue, tell your life story to, and never see again. Got it?”
“Yes.” He heard the answer, so it was time to follow through.
“Okay, then. Clock starts… Now.”
“I’m Kevin. Just now, I felt something I’ve only pretended to feel with other women. You are… just… amazing.”
“I’ve heard that before. You’re different?”
“Yes. Because I mean it on Wonder Woman’s Lasso of truth.” He smiled.
“Wonder Woman…? Crush when you were a kid?”
“Not at all. Gal Gadot is stunning, but I’m in it for the action,” Kevin said.
She cocked her head to the side a bit. “Okay, tell the truth. What made you come here today?” Coincidence check was a necessity.
“Honestly?” she asked.
“Please.”
“I don’t drink coffee very often. But this place has these cute little ‘birthday cake pops,’ and no matter how old I get, I still love one from time to time.” She smiled, as though reminiscing, and Kevin watched the cute curl of her lip at the right corner. She was stunning, and he didn’t have the words to describe her. He struggled to think of something that could embellish her features more than one adjective, but it felt like words had eluded him ever since he had touched her. Connected with her.
Kevin smiled back. “I’m not a coffee drinker, either. My mother set me up on a date, and it went terribly.”
“That girl you walked to the door? Good grief, I could be her mother,” she said, lacking no confidence. If something was wrong with her, he couldn’t see it, which he knew was ridiculous; everyone had flaws and pockmarks that they tried to hide from others. There had to be something.
The barista asked the woman for her order; she still hadn’t given her name.
“Yeah, that was part of the problem. I could’ve been her father.” He didn’t cynically say she had a low score or anything else. Something told him to ignore her relationship rating in favor of sticking to the facts, something to score him points in the win column. Even a low Relationship (Love) Quotient couldn’t change how he saw her. How he saw past, present, and future images passing through his mind in quick succession. She was there—always there. He wasn’t clairvoyant, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew his mind was filling gaps to events he had hoped would happen in his lifetime.
“Sarah?” a voice called out. “Black coffee.”
“Yeah, here,” she said and held her hand open. No. Too fast! He had to grab her interest somehow. She took the coffee with a smile and thanked the young man barely out of puberty.
“Sarah? I’m Kevin.”
“I could’ve just used that name as a distraction,” she said with a knowing expression.
“Did you?” Kevin asked and leaned in a touch.
He watched the flush ride from her neck to her cheeks. He could see her breathing harder. “No. No, I didn’t. Nice to meet you, Kevin.”
“You, too. Why did you say ‘no’ to me?”
The flush darkened.
“Come on; I deserve to know if I’m unattractive, or I there’s something else putting you off.”
“I—” she paused. “Honestly, it’s timing. I don’t have time for a You in my life. Probably never have. I work too much, I play too little, and I survive. You know?”
“No. Not really. I work and play in equal measure.” He smirked. “Sometimes play wins out.”
She half-smiled. If he didn’t know any better, it was a sort of lonely half-smile. “How about this—no pressure. I’ll give you my number and a promise for some ‘play’. No, I don’t mean sex, unless you want that. I mean a date, a real date.” There was something sad in her expression, maybe bittersweet. He couldn’t tell. Eventually, she nodded. “Cool. I mean it. Whenever you want; I’ll make time.” He watched her tap her wrist, palm down, and her screen display pop up. There was a fun-looking poodle with a bouquet of flowers in its mouth. “Your dog?” He tapped his wrist to pull up his display.
“Yeah. Cora. She’s… well, let me leave you wondering…” She gave that half-smile again.
“Okay. I definitely will. Here. There’s my contact card.” Kevin typed out ‘For a good time, call…’ in the Notes section and swiped it towards her. Her display flashed.
“A good time, huh?”
“Of course. You have no idea what you’ll be getting into. I’m a chameleon, my dear. I like wine, I like spirits, I like water… I like fine-dining or cooking a simple meal at home. I like music, but you never know what I’ll be listening to.”
She chuckled. “I got it. Thank you, Kevin. I need to go, now. It was a pleasure to meet you.” There was a soft sparkle in her eyes as she extended her hand.
“All mine, I assure you.” He took her hand in his and felt those little electric sparks spreading from his hand to his forearm. He hoped she felt something similar, at least enough to call or text him. He watched her gather her designer handbag and coffee. He hated when the bell rung as she opened the door, and hated more when she was out of sight.
