Up.Date
by
Phil Vas
“Maybe you should call it a night,” Jim said, situating the air conditioner in the center of the window frame. “There’s always tomorrow.”
Ava sat at her desk across the cramped living room, comparing the image on her monitor to the blueprints spread out before her. A freelance cartographer, she was currently mapping the space for Volta's next domed community on a beach along the mid-Atlantic. “Just a bit more,” she said. “If I don’t take care of this now, I might forget it tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself.” Jim shrugged as beads of sweat streamed down his forehead, settling in his beard. “Can you believe this heat? It’s just not natural. Maybe we should move in with your sister and her family in the dome.” He smirked.
“I’m sure she'd love that,” Ava answered sarcastically. She knew he was messing with her. Still, she had no desire to think or speak about Claire right now. “Careful,” she said, shifting the subject. “We don’t want that unit plummeting fourteen stories onto someone’s skull.”
Adjusting the panels, he turned two screws into pre-drilled holes in the window frame, then pressed the power button. “There.” He inhaled theatrically. “Slightly cooler, polluted air."
"Life begins anew,” she wince-smiled. “So, have you given any thought to that party?”
“Of course not. Since when is being a half-century old a reason to celebrate?”
“A birthday is always a reason to celebrate,” she said. “We could have an intimate gathering, right here in the apartment.”
“This place is too small—even for an intimate gathering."
“Ok, then. A restaurant. That Vietnamese place you like.”
“I don’t know….”
“Will you at least think about it? Just us and some close friends. It’ll be nice.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
They’d met last year on “Up.Date,” a dating app for folks with rebuilt hearts. While some subscribers suffered from cardiological ills like arrhythmia and valve disease, the vast majority had experienced such intense heartbreak that the organ, no longer able to perform its vital functions, required complete refurbishment. Jim and Ava (who fell into the former category) were critical of online dating, and often joked about how they’d met, but in truth, they felt fortunate to have found each other. Mutually damaged and well into middle age, each secretly embraced the Up.Date tagline: Your heart deserves another chance.
“Ready to wrap up?” he asked. “We can have a beer, watch a movie in the cool comfort of our happy home.”
“I don’t know. I’m really deep into the process.”
“You do love your maps,” he sighed, straightening up around the window.
“Maps are like membranes. They hold things in place, so they’re not forgotten.”
“Membranes?”
“Yes, like when you were a child. Getting ice cream in the park or something.”
“You mean memories?”
“Yes, like I said. Memories.”
"Oh, oh, yes," he stumbled a bit. "Of course."
The air conditioner rattled as the compressor struggled back to life. Jim stole a quick glance at his girlfriend and immediately began to weigh various prognoses. Stop it, he thought. You're overreacting. Stop this nonsense.
He headed to the kitchen for a beer.
*
Emerging from the dim subway into the sudden glare of the sun, he put on his shades and headed toward Volta. The streets were eerily empty for a Monday morning, likely due to the intense heat, and as he walked Jim fantasized about retiring to a cooler climate. Somewhere up north, maybe. Given his length of employment, however, his pension would comprise only a fraction of what was needed to survive. Perhaps if he and Ava were still together a decade from now, they could pool their resources….
Ava. He was concerned about her. Language glitches were always the first sign. Rats fleeing the ship, as they say. Then again, everyone made errors. Did a simple slip of the tongue indicate that someone was headed for a complete system crash? Of course, not. These rebuilt hearts were top-notch—better than the real thing! He had one himself and never felt better. Anyway, he’d been well aware of the risks when he invited her to move in with him. When you love someone, you take chances. That’s what people do.
Jim paused to observe the semi-transparent bubble dominating the sky above his destination. An indestructible membrane that absorbed and converted the sun’s rays into energy, it powered Volta’s entire 200-acre campus. It was the company’s crown jewel, an archi-techno wonder that made it nearly impossible to believe that Volta’s first domed community was constructed only a decade ago. The company, which had been growing exponentially since its inception, now had stakes in everything from breakfast cereal to biotech. The running joke was that you couldn't throw a rock (physically or virtually) without hitting one of Volta’s ubiquitous silver V’s.
He worked at The Native Plant Center, a division of the company’s latest endeavor, World Flora & Fauna. Although semi-simulations were nothing new (they first appeared in the earliest domed communities), World Flora & Fauna was Volta’s attempt at making this once exclusive technology more accessible—of “bringing it to the people.” The concept, which leaned heavily upon the egalitarian principles that shaped Frederick Law Olmstead's designs of Central Park, was fairly simple: provide the public with venues where it could experience environments that were quickly vanishing from the planet. Volta achieved this by combining actual, physical flora with meta flora, psyche-generated simulations that were “seen” when the user temporarily joined the company’s network. For a fee, of course.
He scanned his card and exchanged nods with the guards as the glass doors parted. Stepping into the cool, clean air, Jim took a deep breath and felt instantly renewed. A shuttle would be along soon, but he chose to walk the half mile to The Native Plant Center. If only I could live in a dome, he thought, like Claire and her family. He’d have to earn about four times his current income, and even then it could be years before his name was chosen from a “random” lottery system. Jim would just have to settle for 40 hours per week in paradise. The world is built on the backs of those who can’t afford it, he reflected philosophically. Just ask the pyramids. Though vaguely proud of his observation, the horticulturist chose not to pursue it. Jim instead turned his thoughts to the seedlings that awaited him and how fortunate he was to do the work that he loved.
*
Ava was soul sick as she studied aerial photos of the beach where Volta was planning its next domed community. It was a familiar ill: she despised the company and felt guilty for taking part in the destruction of yet another ecosystem, however small. There was a time, years ago, when she railed against the giant corporations that were wringing the life out of average citizens. Now look at me, she thought. Just another drone on the payroll. Of course, in her line of work, the pool of potential employers was rapidly shrinking; it simply wasn’t possible for a cartographer to earn a living without "Big V" these days. But that did little to ease her conscience.
Worsening matters was her secret wish to live in a domed community and enjoy all the privileges it afforded. Like Claire. While it couldn't be said that she envied all aspects of her sister’s life, Ava did feel an aching need for security and—in her heart of hearts—a lingering regret that she’d never had children of her own. Claire followed the safe and predictable course that society had laid out for her, and she was amply rewarded for it.
It was approaching noon. The sun burned through the blinds, yet Ava stubbornly refused to close the windows and turn on the air conditioner. Though uncomfortable, she was determined to feel the sun, not hide from it. She laughed acidly at the hypocrisy of wanting to live in a dome, yet refusing to turn on an air conditioner. As if her rejection of basic technology was an act of deep, symbolic rebellion. Boycott! she laughed once more, pointing at the unit. And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, she whispered, "Caleb."
Ava couldn't remember the last time she'd uttered his name, likely due to the unconscious fear that voicing it would once more shatter her heart. She glanced at the photos on her monitor and wondered if he would have approved of her work. "Of course, not," she said. Companies like Volta, which disguised destruction as progress, were antithetical to his very being. But then, Caleb was an idealist; he never could understand that some degree of compromise was needed to get by in the world. And so, most of their years together were spent drifting. Job to job, place to place. Tough times, but they were young and in love, and the dollar went a bit further back then.
It wasn't until they'd found themselves beneath the brooding skies and towering conifers of the Pacific Northwest that Caleb truly found his stride. He reconnected with an old college roommate, met many kindred spirits, and for the first time felt that he could successfully live life on his own terms. Inspired, he and his buddy soon drafted a business plan for a cafe, and within a few months they secured funding and a space. "Follow your heart," he told Ava, "and the universe will do the rest."
One morning she was sitting at the kitchen table when Caleb gently kissed her on the forehead before heading out to price some espresso machines. He was so calmly focused, so resolute. It was a side of him that she'd never seen—a new level of maturity.
Later that day two police officers visited Ava at work to inform her that Caleb's business partner had found him at the cafe. He'd put a .38 caliber bullet into his skull.
Now, sobbing in her hot apartment, she was gripped by the old sadness and bitterness and confusion. She still blamed herself for overlooking the signs, subtle as they were. But above all, she resented Caleb's family. He'd attempted suicide in the past, and they were able to intervene just in time. Why didn't they warn her?
Brushing sweat from her forehead, Ava suddenly realized that she could no longer recall his voice, or even his face. Where there was once a cache of tender memories, there was now only gray heaviness, like rain trapped in a cloud. She began to tremble uncontrollably. Then, just as suddenly, her entire body froze. She tried to scream, but her mouth remained sealed, her voice imprisoned in that formless gray cell.
*
Jim arrived home from work to find her on the floor, unresponsive and hot to the touch. He immediately called 911. Following some preliminary questions, the dispatcher instructed him to drape her in towels soaked in cold water. An ambulance was on the way. Jim did his best to remain calm as they waited. He held Ava's hand and spoke reassuringly. "I've got you," he said. "Hang in there. I've got you."
Two medics arrived within minutes. Jim closed the windows and turned on the air conditioner. They ran some diagnostics and quickly determined that Ava required a restart—but they first had to perform a hard shutdown.
"She has a rebuilt heart," Jim said.
"We know," the older medic responded. "The heart will be just fine."
"We're gonna start her right back up," the younger medic assured him.
The procedure was performed with a calm, methodic precision that he found comforting. Although there was a brief moment, just prior to the restart, that Ava was completely lifeless. In those few taut seconds, Jim realized just how deeply he loved her. If it weren't for the presence of the medics, he would have cried like a child.
*
Jim walked the greenhouse aisles, past honeysuckle and azalea, pausing every few feet to study a newly sprung leaf or petal. The plants were his children; he cared for them, he was in awe of them, and their presence inspired peace.
This morning, however, his peace was disturbed.
He'd tried a few times to speak with Ava about her crash, but she was distant. Every time he broached the subject, she would look down at the ground, or at her computer monitor, or she'd grasp a lock of her dyed black hair and study the split ends. She avoided eye contact at all costs. Her verbal responses, short and evasive, reminded Jim of his own interactions with teachers when he was a child and had gotten himself into trouble. He wanted so badly to know what Ava was thinking, but he couldn't breach the wall that now surrounded her, and it seemed as if she were drifting further away with each passing day.
Trimming a red azalea, he was suddenly reminded of another chapter in his life….
Back in the pre-dome days, when he was smooth-faced and thirty pounds lighter, Jim lived in the basement of his childhood home with the woman he planned to marry and her young son from a previous relationship. He loved them both dearly. They were a team, and they were going to build a life together. Then, one afternoon just before Christmas, he returned home from work to find them gone. No explanation. Just empty space where their belongings had once been. He ran upstairs to ask his mother if she'd seen anything. She had not.
"How could she just forget about me?" he asked the plants.
"No." He shook himself out of it. "We're not going down that road," he said, well aware of the pain that awaited if he began to think about Lora and Kyle and the event that broke his original heart. "No," he repeated loudly, his voice echoing throughout the greenhouse, and in his refusal of the past, there arose a realization.
He and Ava must speak frankly about her crash. It wouldn't be easy, but if they truly loved each other and were in this for the long term, they must address her health situation and plan for its future impacts. No more avoidance; no more vaguery. Jim breathed deeply, savoring the honeysuckle's perfume. He was resolved.
*
Upon entering the apartment, he was hit by a frigid blast. "Well, the air conditioner certainly is working," he laughed.
Ava looked up from the computer and smiled. "It was getting a bit warm, so I turned it up. Too cold?"
"No, no," he replied. "Very comfortable."
"How was work?"
"Ususal," he said, removing his shoes. "Azaleas are coming along beautifully."
"That's great." She buttoned her cardigan.
"Haven't seen that one in a while. Looks very nice."
"Thanks. I was going through my dresser and thought I'd try it on."
"How's the map coming along?"
"A web of inconsistencies," she sighed.
"Oh, man. Sorry…."
"I've been in email purgatory with the Bureau of Land Management all day."
"It'll work out," he said.
"Yes, it always does. Ready to eat? I took out a ribeye."
Jim was hungry and tempted to treat this like any other weekday, but he knew that if he let this afternoon take its usual course, he'd soon find himself in bed, staring at the ceiling, disappointed in himself.
"Sure," he said, "but let's talk first."
"Ok." Her voice was suddenly hollow.
"When you crashed—"
"I'm fine," she cut in.
"I think you should visit a doctor."
"Doctor? Why?"
"Just to be sure."
"Sure of what?"
"I don't know. A system check can't hurt."
"I overheated. That's it. Let's just move on."
"But with these rebuilt hearts we have to be careful."
"My heart is fine. Maybe yours needs an update."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Maybe you're worried about me because you need a scan or something. Maybe you have a virus."
Jim felt himself growing angry. "But you crashed. I had to call an ambulance."
She glanced at the monitor. "The Bureau just got back to me. I have to answer this email before they leave for the day."
"Ava." He stepped forward, placing his hand on her forearm. "If we can't be honest with each other, this isn't going to work."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying we need honesty."
"Are you breaking up with me?"
"No. I care about you. I don't want to come home and find you crashed again. What if it's more serious next time? Please, let's just go to a doctor for a system check. Maybe you just need to be defragmented or something."
"Maybe you need to be defragmented."
"Ok, now you're being nasty."
"I think we should take a break," she said, pulling her arm away.
"A break?"
"Yes, I'm going to stay with my sister."
"Claire? Oh, come on…."
"If we can't trust each other, then this isn't going to work."
"Ava—"
"I'll leave in the morning."
She began typing. He headed to the kitchen for a beer.
*
Shortly after her arrival, Ava completed the beachfront map and convinced Claire to give the nanny a few weeks off. She'd care for the children while her sister and brother-in-law (both lawyers for Volta) were at the office. Ava was determined to earn her keep while searching for a place of her own. She cooked and cleaned and made sure her niece and nephew remained active. Exhausting work, but she welcomed the opportunity to bond with the kids—and she knew that chasing them around all day was the best medicine for her breakup.
She now sat at the dining room table with Seine and Dallas, enjoying a cup of coffee as they dug into her signature blueberry pancakes. It was satisfying to watch them eat. She felt a sense of ease, a reassurance that she'd made the right decision in embarking upon this new chapter of her life.
"Look who's enjoying their breakfast!"
Claire beamed down proudly from the top of the spiral staircase. Though barely five feet tall, she appeared statuesque as she strode down the stairs in her navy blue business suit, radiating an authority that Ava had always found intimidating, despite being the older sibling.
Claire's heels clicked on the porcelain tiles as she approached the table.
"I don't want you to go to work," Seine whined, gripping her mother's arm tightly.
"Oh, honey, you're going to have a wonderful time," Claire consoled her. "Don't you remember what today is?"
"Tuesday—Old Tyme Carnival!" Dallas cried out excitedly.
Seine was mildly consoled.
Ava pitied her niece, a brilliant but anxious fifth grader tackling the workload of a high school junior. Her parents had set the bar quite high, sending her to the very best schools and investing a small fortune in her future, all the while ignoring the fact that their daughter's childhood was playing out in a pressure cooker.
Claire turned to her sister. "The entire fourteenth floor is Kids' World. Every day is a different theme. Today is Old Tyme Carnival. It's the most beautiful elevated reality you'll ever experience. I actually worked on many of the patents. The kids go down at eleven and stay for about an hour. They love it. You really should sync with the community and check it out."
"I'll try," Ava replied, avoiding eye contact.
"I'll take that as a no," said Claire, firmly disappointed.
"Whenever I sync with augmented realities, I get a terrible headache."
Rolling her eyes, Claire turned to the kids. "When we were little, Aunt Ava would stay home from school all the time because of her terrible headaches."
Dallas laughed loudly, spitting blueberry onto the table.
She turned back to Ava: "This isn't augmented, it's elevated. Volta has addressed all the old glitches. I'm telling you, this is pristine."
Ava nodded. She knew better than to question Volta. Claire had been with the company for nearly two decades, rising through the ranks to her current position as senior in-house counsel. She'd tried many times to recruit her sister and simply couldn't understand why Ava chose to freelance for Volta instead of reaping the benefits of a full-time position. "It's a matter of freedom," she'd say, a response that Claire found foolishly idealistic, especially for a woman of her sister's age.
Foolish or not, Ava was determined to enjoy her freedom, which was a bit easier once Claire had left for work. She casually finished her coffee and then enlisted the kids' help in tidying up. As she watched them load the dishwasher, Ava briefly considered what life might have been like with children of her own. And then she thought of Jim.
I see the way he looks at me, with that grave concern, as if I'm going to crash at any moment. I don't need that kind of worry in my life. I'm perfectly healthy. And besides, he has a rebuilt heart, too. Who's he to say that I should get a virus scan? I know he loves me, and he means well, but it's my body. My derision. My division. My….
"MY DECISION!" she yelled, finally capturing the word.
"What's your decision?" Dallas asked, standing beside his sister.
"Nothing," she answered faintly. "Go get ready. We'll head down in a bit."
*
When the elevator doors opened onto the fourteenth floor at 11:10 a.m., Old Tyme Carnival was in full swing, a kaleidoscope of rides and games, colorful tents and concession stands. "Yes!" yelled Dallas, dashing into the sea of excited children. He weaved through the crowds toward his friend Caleb, who stood before a high striker, mallet poised overhead, preparing to test his strength before a group of admiring young girls.
Seine stood frozen, arms folded.
"Looks like fun," Ava said, taking her hand.
They stepped out of the elevator.
"Did you sync?" Seine asked.
Ava searched for an excuse but came up empty. "Maybe later," she replied, revealing that she saw nothing more than scores of children engaged in bizarre pantomime.
Dallas came running up to them. "Come on, Seine. You've got to see this!"
The girl glanced uncertainly at Ava.
"Go ahead," she encouraged her. "Enjoy yourself."
Hesitantly, Seine followed her brother into the crowd.
They weaved through the carnival, and Seine soon found herself captivated by all the excitement. Occasionally, the carnies called out to passing children, luring them with the promise of fun and riches: "Step right up, boys and girls. Test your skills and win a prize!" At one stall, a group of kids tossed ping pong balls at rows of glass bottles ten feet away. Most balls simply hit the bottles' rims and bounced out of sight. But Elsie, a pretty and outgoing girl from the tenth floor, had just worked her magic and won a giant teddy bear. It was a rich golden brown, and Seine was instantly jealous. She tugged her brother's arm. "No time," Dallas said. "We have to hurry!"
He led them behind a yellow tent, where his friend Caleb was crouched on one knee, peering through the slit between two canvas flaps.
"What are you looking at?" Seine asked.
Caleb pulled back one flap, Dallas the other, and all three peeked inside.
The interior was dark, though Seine saw silhouettes of the audience in the stands. Hunched in the center spotlight was a wirey old man, shirtless, cradling a chicken in his arm. He smiled, revealing a handful of teeth that glowed yellow in the glare of the spotlight. Without warning, he gripped the bird by the neck and stuffed its head into his mouth. A few seconds later, he spit out the head and held up the chicken by its shanks to show the audience. The old man smiled once more, his mouth speckled with blood.
Seine screamed and screamed.
*
Jim was a bit nervous as he scanned the crowd around the dome's entry gate, and since no one resembled Lesa's photos, he found a shaded spot nearby, casually leaned against a wall, and waited.
He'd returned to Up.Date shortly after the breakup, intent upon finding a new woman to replace Ava. He soon matched with Lesa, a single mom who, like himself, had a rebuilt heart. They chatted briefly to establish compatibility and then agreed to meet in person. Ironically, she suggested this place, World Flora & Fauna, for which Jim had grown many of the plants in his beloved greenhouse.
"Jim?"
Startled, he turned to find Lesa standing beside him. She was a plump blonde with a soothing voice and warm smile. She looked even better in person. He was pleased.
"Hi!" he smiled, hoping his beard was under control.
"I didn't mean to sneak up on you."
"Oh, no worries. Life is full of pleasant surprises."
Exchanging smalltalk, they approached the gate and synced with World Flora & Fauna. Information about the three Experience Tiers appeared in their mind-sight:
Tier One: Explore a Northeastern Forest in all its majestic beauty. Walk among a lush assortment of flora, much of which no longer exists anywhere else in the world. No VoltaSync™ required.
Tier Two: Be amazed by this Elevated™ experience that seamlessly blends physical and metaflora, transporting you to some of the most exotic beaches of our planet! VoltaSync™ required.
Tier Three: Enter the Amazon Rain Forest, untamed wilderness of a bygone era. Experience the thrill of living among the jaguars and crocodiles that once called this place home. VoltaSync+™ required.
"I cultivated a lot of the plants and trees in Tier One," he said.
"That's so cool," Lesa replied. "You must be proud."
"Yeah," he chuckled, "it's like sending your kids off to college."
"Would you like to visit Tier One?" she asked.
"Whatever you want," he offered graciously. "I'm totally open."
In truth, he was not so open. World Flora & Fauna was a pricey date, and employee discounts, like the Amazon Rain Forest, were a thing of the past. Not only was each tier progressively more expensive, but Jim was highly skeptical of elevated experiences. This was due, in part, to his last visit with Ava to her sister's apartment. Claire insisted over dinner that Jim sync with the community, and after some mild protest and three glasses of wine, he finally consented. For the rest of the night, every hour on the hour, his mind-sight was barraged with advertisements. Automobiles, luxury watches, travel destinations. It went on and on. Never again, he vowed to Ava, head pounding, as they rode the subway home.
"I've always wanted to see a jaguar," Lesa said.
"Me, too!" He agreed heartily, wringing his hands as they approached the booth.
Despite his reservations, Jim was awestruck as he synced with Volta and watched a vast, empty space transform into the lush, green wilderness of the Amazon. He suddenly found himself standing among a grove of cocoa trees, each adorned in tiny pink and white flowers. Somewhere in the distance, the music of flowing water mingled with the competing calls of antbirds and toucans. Inhaling deeply, Jim smelled a melange of earth, rain and vegetation. "Amazing," he said. "Even our olfactory sense is synced." He placed his hand on a cocoa tree, and a tiny piece of bark fell to the forest floor. He picked it up, scrutinized it, rubbed it between his fingers. It was hard to believe that all of this existed only in his mind.
"It's beautiful," Lesa sighed. A hummingbird zipped by and she laughed with joy.
"Let's explore," he said.
They soon found themselves walking silently along a riverbank, its waters dappled by sunlight that peeked through the canopy a hundred feet above. A school of fish darted about below the surface, just out of sight.
"Pirhana," he said gravely.
"Really?" Lesa was alarmed.
"No, just kidding."
As she playfully punched his arm, Jim received a notification. It was from Ava. They'd remained synced after the breakup, and now her message flashed urgently across his mind-sight: Need to speak with you. Please.
They continued walking, their footsteps cushioned by the decaying leaves of the forest floor. Jim tried to remain in the moment, to fully absorb the experience, but it was impossible. As they watched a giant anaconda weave through the river alongside them, he decided to cut the date short.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but I just received a message from the hospital. My mother—" "Really? Oh my God, is she ok?" Lesa was sympathetic, but it was clear that she knew a lame excuse when she heard one.
"I think so, but I'd better head over there, just to be sure."
"Yes," she agreed. "Family first."
They unsynced, said their goodbyes, and promised to keep in touch.
Jim knew he'd never see her again.
*
"It was awful." Ava gazed sadly at the apartment floor. "Gut-wrenching."
"He really bit the head off a chicken?" Jim was in disbelief. "Not exactly kid friendly."
"An employee who'd just learned he was being laid off secretly embedded it in the experience. That's what Claire said, anyway."
"Claire—," he halted. "It's a billion dollar organization. Don't they have quality control?"
Ava shrugged. "We had a huge argument before I left. Can you believe she actually defended Volta? I mean, Seine was so traumatized. She couldn't stop screaming."
"I believe it," Jim said. "Poor kid. She'll be talking about that in therapy one day."
Despite the circumstances, they were happy to be reunited. They ordered in Chinese, had a few beers, watched a movie. It felt right. The next day, Jim took off work so he could help Ava move her things back into the apartment.
*
Steve Gantry raised his glass: "To the guy who drank snake blood with me in Thailand, bailed me out of two South American jails, and somehow convinced the Kenyan authorities to release me after they found a pangolin in my carry-on—"
"I bribed them," Jim cut in jovially. "That's another five hundred you owe me."
They drank, and the table shook with laughter. It was Jim's fiftieth, and he and Ava were celebrating with another couple at his favorite Vietnamese restaurant. Despite Jim's initial resistance, Ava had proceeded with her plans, and he was grateful.
"Good times," Gantry sighed. "When you could pick an adventure in some distant part of the globe and be on a plane the following day. No kids, no mortgage. Total freedom."
His wife, Tanya, frowned. "You make our life sound so miserable!"
"Not at all," he said, putting his arm around her. "I wouldn't change our life for the world. Beautiful home. Two amazing kids. I'm a lucky guy."
"Very lucky," Jim agreed, glancing at Ava. Was she staring at something across the room?
The waitress approached. (She was purely ornamental, of course; they were all synced with the restaurant and could have ordered directly from mind-sight.)
"What's that appetizer I like?" Gantry asked his wife. "Spring rolls?"
Suddenly upright, Ava recited, "Spring rolls in on amber waves of grain."
"Bravo!" Gantry clapped.
Smiling brightly, she continued: "We rode our bicycles together through the town. His name was Oliver. We stopped at a cafe, and he handed me a tiny slip of paper. It said 'A1.' At the time, I thought it was because he was in love with me. But really, to this day, I have no idea what it meant."
"Looks like you've got competition!" Gantry chided.
Jim smiled, but something was wrong. "Maybe we should order."
Ava didn't hear him. "On July 31st, he was deported to coordinates 50°30′40″N 14°9′2″E, and on October 28th, he was transported to coordinates 50°02′09″N 19°10′42″E."
Tanya placed her hand on Ava's forearm. "Are you Ok, dear?"
"Good evening," the waitress said, somewhat shakily. "I'm Marianne."
"She's burning up!" Tanya cried out.
Ava turned to the waitress: "Cannot identify server identity. Cannot identify server identity. Cannot identify server identity….."
*
Jim convinced Gantry and Tanya to go home, and he rode with Ava in the ambulance, holding her hand as she proceeded to overheat and shut down. They were brought to a small, privately owned medical facility, and he was instructed to wait in the lobby as Ava was carted off to an intensive docking unit. An hour later he was met by a slender man in a lab coat who introduced himself as Dr. Oliver.
"When was her last heartware update?" asked the doctor.
"I don't know," Jim replied. "She's a very private person."
Dr. Oliver closed his eyes and inhaled deeply—a well-polished gesture of disapproval. "Her entire operating system is corrupted."
"Can it be fixed?"
"The damage is irreparable. She requires a complete overhaul."
"Ok, let's do it."
The doctor smiled condescendingly. "I wish it were that simple."
"I don't understand."
"You are the sole authorized user on Ava's Life Account. This allows you to give us permission to proceed. Unfortunately, she is uninsured. Which makes you financially responsible for the operation."
"Her sister is wealthy," Jim said. "She'd be willing to pick up the bill."
"I'm sure that's true, but we cannot proceed without full payment, and we must begin immediately. We can give you a minute or two to consider—"
"No," Jim said decisively. "If this is what Ava needs, then let's move forward."
"Very good. Someone will be out shortly to assist you. Please be sure to sync with the facility in order to complete the transaction." The doctor nodded slightly, effectively concluding the conversation before heading back to the intensive docking unit.
The medical assistant that emerged from the office bore such a striking resemblance to Jim's first love that he gasped. As she introduced herself and then stood beside him, guiding him through the payment process, Jim was suddenly transported to his mother's basement, sitting on the floor with his love and her young son, drawing, playing, planning a future that was never to come to pass. The experience was so uncanny that he wondered if the medical assistant existed only in mind-sight, or if the evening's traumatic events had induced some form of psychosis. Whatever the case, the cost of Ava's procedure was all too real. Not only was Jim about to sign away his life's savings, but his pension as well. The transaction was quite simple, as he soon discovered that his employer, Volta, also owned this very facility.
And so, just like that, it was done. With a subtle nod not unlike the doctor's, the medical assistant was gone, along with all of Jim's funds. He sunk into a chair and hung his head. His dreams of moving up north were now no more tangible than the birds and trees of the Amazon. Oh, well. He'd done the honorable thing. That counted for something, didn't it? And he still had Ava. They had each other. They'd figure it out.
*
Two hours later, a smiling Dr. Oliver returned to the waiting room. The procedure had been a success. Jim was invited to visit Ava as they performed the final diagnostics.
Led by the medical assistant, he entered the docking unit to find Ava lying in bed peacefully, surrounded by machines that monitored her processes.
"Hello," he said, gently.
"Oh, hello!"
"How are you feeling?"
"Doing well," she chirped. "How are you?"
"Better, now that you're ok."
"That's very kind of you," she smiled politely.
"That was some birthday party," he said.
"Yes," Ava replied, sitting upright. "I bet it was!"
She didn't remember him.
Factory reset, he thought. Lousy factory reset. Could've done this in a hospital for next to nothing. Jim, you fool. You've been had.
Bitter bile welled up in his throat. Standing, he prepared to storm into Oliver's office and demand his money back. Then he looked into Ava's eyes, clear and bright, unburdened by the past, and he had a change of heart.
"Gantry was hilarious," he said, settling back into his chair. "Let me tell you about it…."
A portion of this story appeared in Ghost Watch
This story appeared in its entirety in The Fulcrum Review
