Chapter 4
The restaurant was a social place, pleasantly lit. Overhead, a thousand lasers drew images on the curved ceiling. The place had once been a cathedral, and a sense of gothic architecture was still present in the spikes and high vaulted arches. He looked up at the ceiling, and saw a glow of stars, twinkling like gems in the not-sky overhead.
He glanced at the clock in his glasses, and was about to start to quietly panic when she arrived. She looked fantastic. Her hair was done up in a glowing cascade that twisted around one shoulder. Her loose blue dress was woven of living threads that flared and pulse gently with jellyfish genetics. It left gold-toned shoulders bare, and flowed together into short sleeves, and then curved along the edge of her stomach down to a skirt. She wore no make up at all, and she looked stunning for it.
His constructs shouted in his ear not to say a word lest he stutter. At their prompting, he got up, and pulled her chair out for her. She smiled at him. He wondered what to say. Finally, his constructs gave him a mental shove.
“You look wonderful.”
“Thank you. Isn’t this a nice place?” She smiled happily.
“It is nice. They did a good job converting it. Still does give one an idea that Someone is looking over your shoulder though.”
“That was the intention, I’d imagine…” she said wryly.
“You come here often?”
She cast here eyes down, flirting in earnest now, and said,
“On special occasions.”
He blushed and grinned and said something stupid, and busied himself with the menu.
“You have any recommendations?”
“Try the pasta and the salad. Stay away from the hamburger. I swear, it has rat in it.”
She made a face.
He laughed, surprised.
“Rat isn’t so bad. Tastes like chicken, if chicken was small and hairy and ate garbage.”
She giggled.
A waiter chose that moment to arrive. Like most waiters in the better class of restaurant, he wore no specs, as a sign of attention and deference. He was impressed. McDonalds didn’t even employ humans any more – they used discount constructs from Asia that barely spoke English. Disturbingly enough, they still got your order right more often than the humans they replaced.
He asked for the pasta, the side salad, and a coke. She ordered chicken pot pie and fries.
It all tasted excellent. Of course, the chicken had never seen a feather before. The Gardener grew the stuff in sheets on his racks below ground, tending it via his Harvesters.
The conversation as they ate ran this way and that. Finally, as they approached the subject of her job again, something occurred to him.
“Who do you work for, anyway?”
“Medusa. Mainly, they just pay the bills though – the Lab is semi-independent.”
“I just got a job offer from Medusa.”
She took a bite of pie.
“Really?” she asked “That’s great! I’ll see you there?”
“Yeah, I think so. We’ll see how my interview goes.”
“Yeah. Oh, that reminds me. Have you seen the new neighborhood Medusa is building? It’s completely solar-powered. It’s going to provide half the power for the city soon.”
“I hadn’t heard of that.”
“You really must see it. It’s beautiful at night. Come on, it’s right across the street from my apartment.”
“Okay.”
They walked out of the restaurant. He even worked up the courage to hold her hand. This was odd. He was badly out of practice dating, but he felt more nervous that he had in years. He barely had the presence of mind to send a construct to pay the tab.
The housing block really was beautiful at night. The houses were covered in rolls and whorls of a silver material that glowed in the moonlight. As the light sources moved around it, it twisted and moved, showing off it’s freedom. It was alive, a creature that fed on light and the cool night air. They settled in the park across the street, and watched it climb towards the moon, blooming with silver flowers to absorb the energy, funneling it down into the power grid that ran invisibly beneath their feet.
After a while, he suddenly came to, and realized that he had been nearly dozing, and that he was now lounging against her on the bench. He was acutely aware of the curves of her body, the warm softness of her, the gentle rise and fall of her breast as she dozed next to him. The effect of the twisting, living metal flowers was hypnotic. He moved away from her, rousing her from her trance.
She glanced down at her tattoo, which obligingly shifted to show the time.
“Must have drifted off,” she said.
“Same here,” he said, stretching to get a kink out of his back.
“Hey listen, do you want to stop by my apartment for a bit? It’s right around the corner.”
A deep part of him wanted to say no. The rest of him was all for it. They fell to fighting for a second, and she caught his indecision and said hurriedly
“If you don’t, that’s fine. I just thought…”
“No, no, that sounds good.”
“Oh, okay. Right this way.”
Her apartment was slightly smaller than his, but homier. The walls were covered with sketches.
“Did you do these?”
“Just a hobby. You can only stay focused on n-dimensional graphing equations for so long before your brain starts to fry.”
“These are great.”
“No they’re not. Mediocre, at best.”
“No, really. That dog looks like it’s going to walk away.”
She laughed.
“Have it your way.”
They moved in a general way towards the couch. She asked him if he wanted something to drink. He asked for a coke, and sat down. She sat down next to him, and they talked about inconsequential things. Any words would have done as well. Then, with the absolute knowledge that this was right, he kissed her again. This time, it wasn’t over quickly, but ran on and on. She tasted like peaches.
A billion-year old longing rose in him, pressing him to respond. Beneath the flood, a small, quiet part of his mind gave one final, quiet cry that this was wrong, and then was swept away.
He stepped toward the bed.
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Continue to Chapter Five
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