“Make me
feel something,” intoned Max.
“Mr.
Farseed, we will impress you with our best efforts here at Matchless Mates!
But, ah, your list of possibles has compiled. Please look at your transcreen
for candidate One.”
The
impeccably polished Social Engineer fluttered her fingers at the hovering
transparency and it enlarged and brightened before them. Max brightened himself
as he gazed at the attractive woman on the screen.
He had been
contracted with eight other dating services with only disappointment to show
for it. There had been no spark, chemistry, magic. The various matches selected
for his profile were all lovely, but none excited him.
He was here
at Matchless Mates with the last feathers of hope he had left.
Libby Halsy
appeared before him in a silky red dress that displayed her soft proportions to
best advantage. Thick shining hair fell below her shoulders. Her face, not
media pretty, was alluring in its simplicity with the near-perfect symmetry of
classic beauty.
“Ms. Halsy
is eager to meet you,” sighed the Social Engineer. “Please select from these
days and times.”
Max chose
the soonest, that afternoon at three. He found Ms. Halsy in the lobby of the
Gansevoort Meatpacking NYC, her back toward him as she gazed up at a spectacular
chandelier designed to suggest a frozen waterfall covered with ice.
Instinctively she turned and watched him approach, his long, black dress-coat
open to show a white shirt and jeans.
He reached
her and took her hands. Her eyes had a sparkle of light in them he had never
seen before.
After
introductions, they seated themselves on a curving jacquard sofa almost face to
face. A hovering coffee cart waited near an oval table at their knees.
“You’re a
writer,” said Max as an opening query.
“Yes. I
write code,” replied Ms. Halsy.
“For what
application?” asked Max.
“Social
observation. My data collection about societal changes is fed into satellite
storage. It’s used to adjust social structures, like law enforcement or housing
standards based on the changing human climate.”
Despite the
cool almost clinical tone of her speech, Max felt a warmth that made him hang
on her every word. It was no surprise that he drew her to him after they had
walked out of the hotel café together into a lingering embrace that ended in a
welcomed kiss.
In the Matchless Mates office,
Social Engineer V+@, known on her name badge to clients as Ms. Volz, was doing
some data storage of her own. She recorded another successful pairing, Mr. Max
Farseed and Ms. Libidina Halsy who had reported four successful dates. Mr.
Farseed had surrendered his list of other possible matches. No continued
searches on his behalf needed.
V+@ smiled to itself. As a tentacle
of the main computer that was Matchless Mates, V+@ used computer acumen and
analytical algorithms to assess the client and his or her needs. It knew an
android when it met one, even when the machine/man in question did not know
that it was not in fact human itself. V+@ knew what was required to make an
artificial life form “feel.” The same thing that makes any ‘one’ feel, and any
‘thing.’ Pheromones. In this case, not a chemical formula that found a match in
the breath and touch of another human, but for Mr. Max Farseed, a complex
potion of integers that entangled with naturals, mixed with whole, rational
fractionals to make the complex ratio of their desire. Ms. Libby Halsy was an
android as well, uploaded with the numbers that Mr. Max Farseed was looking
for, communicated to him from her expelled breath when they shared air.
Another satisfied customer.
(614 words)
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