Archie’s Big Internet Date.
Archibald was preparing for his
date as only he could. It was a ritual that involved a number of steps, and
since there was so much complexity involved, he had made a thorough checklist.
The checklist contained 169 tasks or more. The more became possible because
Archibald sometimes added something to the list just so he could immediately
check it off. This was important to him, for he
had placed himself at odds with a chaotic and horrifyingly indifferent
universe. The elimination of tasks from lists was his stand against this chaos.
Veronica was also getting ready for
“The Date”. She didn’t believe in online dating, in general. Her previous
boyfriend had suffered from leukemia in a tragic 9 month period of near-death,
followed by total death. In all honesty, Veronica knew she was not ready for
the dating world, but on the other hand she was only 42, marginally successful in
her career, and there was no reason to spend the rest of her life playing video
games, eating iced cream from the bucket, and masturbating furiously. She
needed to take a stand against the chaos, and her stand was getting coffee
downtown.
Archibald had claimed to be a cab
driver named John Grisham in his profile. He had provided a picture of himself
wearing a very nice polyvinyl latex mask that entirely covered his face,
obscuring his true features. He had worn the mask for a few months now, in
order to maintain character, as well as confound facial recognition software
that was omnipresent. He had used his substantial creative writing skills in
detailing his fictional life. His study of military tactics had taught him the
decided advantage of disguise. He so desperately hoped that this one would be pure.
He was not a man of desires, but of science.
Veronica had spent a small fortune
on a variety of enhancements. Her face and body were altered and toned. Her
cardio had gone well, and the Christmas gift to her-self of the elliptical
began paying for itself in low-impact high-output energy generation. Her video
games had moved from passive to active in the weeks previous. Using her body as
a part of the process, at night she would wander the web, pwning nwbs and
taking names. She was a powerful creature of unending passion. Imbued and
invested with the most fabulous enhancements of the 21st century,
she set out. She was ready.
Archibald arrived early to note
points of ingress and egress and to calculate the raw number of civilians. It
was a less than ideal location in St. Paul meant to attract tourists. A greasy
spoon shoved into a rail car as a slice of Americana. He waited in his vehicle until
the subject arrived and noted the time. She was also a little early. She did
not look at all like her picture, but no one ever does, in the same way that Plato
said art failed. A poor imitation of a poor imitation.
Veronica secured a booth and
ordered coffee. When “John” arrived he looked nothing like his picture. He
probably looked better. Veronica liked the way he shook her hand and then sat
down comfortably. He settled into comfort, and when the waitress came, he asked
if Veronica knew what she wanted, and she did. They both ordered chicken fried
chicken, which came with chicken gravy. They all shared the secret knowledge
that one should not consume that many types of chicken in one sitting. They
both drank black coffee.
Veronica. So, I’ve never internet dated before.
Archie. No, me neither.
Veronica. I’m just playing the numbers.
Archie. Sure! You’re
a professor right?
Veronica. Yeah. Well, currently unemployed, but yeah, I teach.
Archie. In what
field?
Veronica. Social Sciences.
Archie. Are those
things real?
Veronica. I sure hope so.
Archie. Do you like
teaching?
Veronica. Yeah. I like it. What company do you work for?
Archie. Yellow Cab.
Veronica. Is there Yellow Cab in town?
Archie. Yes.
Veronica. Really?
Archie. Yes, we have
franchises in every major city. Some have predominantly other colors for their
fleet, but of course the greatest association goes to yellow.
Veronica. It’s the color of insanity.
Archie. I heard that
somewhere.
Veronica. Do you like driving?
Archie. Yes, I like
meeting people.
Veronica. I suppose you meet a lot of interesting people.
Archie. Yes. It’s
like that popular show on HBO.
Veronica. Taxicab
Confessions?
Archie. Yes, that’s the
one.
Veronica. Did you ever watch Cash Cab?
Archie. Yes.
Veronica. Is your favorite movie Taxi Driver?
Archie. It isn’t my
favorite Kubrick film, but it’s fine.
Veronica. Do you want to shoot Ronald Regan?
Archie. I don’t think
it would make much of a difference, at this point.
Veronica. No. It might make you feel better? If you were
alive in the 80s. You might be able to marry Jody Foster, for whatever reason.
They
laughed together then. Archibald liked this woman. He liked being “John”, as
well. He wished that he could have chosen a better name, but statistics
produced “John” as consistently the most trusted name in the known English
language, while Grisham was the least. He liked this woman a great deal. He
wished that it was a different world. One where he wasn’t wearing a mask. One
where he wasn’t on a mission from space. One where these two people could simply
coexist and enjoy one another’s company as they may.
Veronica
really liked John. She didn’t know why.
He was not her usual type. But in reality, what was her type after a decade
with the same person? She liked to think that she had a type. She imagined the
internet programming probably knew what it was doing. Obviously John filled out
his profile information openly and honestly. It was written with an
intelligence that betrayed a secret career. Obviously he was something before
this. A doctor or a lawyer. Maybe even a writer? Maybe he was hiding from the
government? The taste of curiosity turned into growling hunger.
Veronica. What do you want to do after this?
Archie. What did you
have in mind?
Veronica. I didn’t have anything in mind, honestly. I didn’t
want to lock myself into anything in case you were armed, you know? I didn’t
have a lot of time to notice my points of ingress and egress.
Archie. Ha. Are you a
military theorist?
Veronica. Modern Warfare, you know?
Archibald
didn’t know, but he laughed as if he did. He was a little nervous, for a number
of reasons.
Archie. Honestly I
can’t be out too late; my dog can’t be left alone that long.
Veronica. You have a dog?
Archie. Yes!
Veronica. What kind?
Archie. Do you want
to see?
Veronica. Of course!
Archibald
showed her the doctored picture of him holding an adorable puppy.
Veronica. What!? When was this taken?
Archie. I don’t know,
yesterday?
Veronica. You have this adorable puppy at your home, all
alone?
Archie. Do you want
to see him?
Archibald
found that the puppy bait and switch was the most effective harvesting
technique. He had tried a number of methods in more exploratory regions of the
experiment. There was the offer of vast amounts of cash money, producing an
immediate response, which was tainted with suspicion. Humans are innately
resistant to the idea of effortless reward. Similar offers, promised and
betrayed over the course of numerous decades, erodes the ability to accept that
something can be made from nothing. He also used traps, but this was not as
effective as one would imagine.
Veronica
knew that going to John’s home was a bad idea. Things were moving way too fast,
and it was ridiculous to think that she was going to sleep with this relative
stranger. It was also exactly what she needed to feel whole and loved and not
entirely alone in a cold and dispassionate cosmos. She would not sleep with
him, but she may begin to explore bases, as pseudosexual euphemisms. They were
both adults, and intelligent, which was nice. Discretion being the better part
of valor.
Archie. Why don’t you
follow me?
Veronica. Sure!
Archie. Or, would you
like a ride?
Veronica
hesitated as something deep within her loudly rebelled.
Veronica. Sure!
There was a
short drive which ended in an underground lot. Underground heated lots were a
marvel to Minnesotan residents. The sort of luxury that shows the opulence of a
failed society. Homeless freezing on the streets while the rich have heated
homes for their cars. It was also amazing. Everything was so cold. Going out at
all was an effort. Little things, like underground parking, made things
survivable.
Veronica. What is this place?
Archie. Oh, I know,
it seems really nice, but it isn’t.
Once again Veronica
was struck by a discomfort in her gut, but dismissed it as gas. It was probably
as she theorized. He was a doctor. A brilliant neurosurgeon that had worked in
West Africa. He was providing his brilliant talents to the needs of the most
needful, until it all went wrong, somehow. How could it not? What with the
genocides? There was a quality to his stare that seemed to gaze past her and
through her, and gazing to this place she recognized her own stumbling
footsteps. Her terror was not of this man, but of being happy. Her fear was giving
up the idea of forever, because forever is simply too long. He would forgive her.
If there really is an absurd reunion in the afterlife, he will forgive her.
Because he had been a great guy.
Archibald
didn’t want to conduct the procedure any more, but he also could not deny a
certain amount of sexual arousal associated with the prospect. He chose to
address these urges, rather than repress them. As it turns out, repressing and
ignoring emotions, rational or not, can have lasting and profound psychological
impacts. It is possible that a person can so disabuse themselves of emotion and
connection, that the world becomes a bizarre and perpetual dream state from
which there can be no apparent escape. If there can be no escape, then there
must be companionship. If there is companionship then it must be controlled.
Veronica
was finally starting to recognize key clues to aid her decision in what to do
about John. On the one hand his
apartment was fabulous, apparently newly furnished. There was no life, or
breath to it. It looked like some of the furniture and perhaps even parts of
the floor were still in the plastic. It screamed to her of a man distanced from
the trivialities of everyday living. On the other hand, there did not seem to be
any source of entertainment. Everything was Spartan to an absurdity. No TV. No
computer?
Archie. Could I get
you a drink?
Veronica. Coffee?
Archie. Great. Any
special flavor?
Veronica. Any.
Archie. Excellent.
Archibald
walked out of the room and moved some things around before returning.
Archie. I’m so
embarrassed, we’re out of coffee. Can I get you some water?
Veronica. Water would be great.
Archibald
left and then returned.
Archie. I just
replaced the filter, so that may look strange, but I assure you it is fine.
Veronica. Thanks.
Veronica
held onto her glass as it settled.
Veronica. This place is great.
Archie. Oh, it’s fine.
I suppose you wonder how a taxi driver could afford all this.
Veronica. Oh, yeah? I guess I would wonder that.
Archie. Well, it’s a
funny story…
Veronica. Yeah?
Archie. Yes, my
uncle, he owned this apartment since they first build the place in 67. I think
it was 67… could have been 68.
Veronica. Wow.
Archie. Yes, and it
became rent controlled. Are you familiar with this concept?
Veronica. Yes. I knew someone who lived in a hotel in New
York, and there were residents who were paying $100 a month for a room that
could be rented for the same amount a night.
Archie. Exactly! Yes.
I’m lucky, is what it comes down to. Super lucky.
Veronica. Well, we’re all lucky.
Archie. Yes. We sure
are.
Veronica had not consumed the
water, for it did not seem to be settling. There was apparently a powder of
some kind in it. She immediately recognized what was happening as what it was,
an ambush. As she began locating points of ingress beyond the initial point of
entrance she smiled and turned while feigning to drink her water. John, or rather
whoever this person was, rose, and began pacing in descending concentric arches
towards her. She maintained the word play while looking for a way out, rather
than through.
Veronica. Could I get a tour? Where’s the puppy?
Archie. Oh my stars
and garters, the adorable puppy!
Archibald
saw that she knew. He knew she knew when she feigned to drink. This one had
evaded his tactics like none other before, but in the end the experiment came
first. He removed a pen case from his jacket pocket and from that removed a
syringe, which he prepared before advancing.
Archie. I’m really
very sorry about this, I think you’re a fabulous woman, but I need your parts
to rebuild my dead girlfriend.
For a
second Veronica hesitated, and in this second she considered a tangential
reality where she would subdue and interrogate this fiend to see if he really
was able to reanimate the dead. If so, she would take his parts instead, and
bring back MY BOYFRIEND! But Veronica knew that her boyfriend’s essential parts
were ruined beyond repair. In this second she considered her options, and then
she looked into the bedroom and saw all of the parts. The dozens and dozens of
lady parts. Not assembled in the slightest, but roughly piled unto a plastic
sheet on the bed. It did not take longer than this second to realize she was
dealing with a maniac.
As
Archibald thrust with the needle, Veronica parried the back of his pronated
hand. Veronica always carried a razor sharp knife wherever she went. It was a
few inches long, serrated, and all a given person needed to end the life of
another. There was a second where Archibald saw all of his tendons sever,
before the gaping wound exploded with blood. The needle fell to the floor, and
in his shock Archibald failed to notice the several thrusts to his carotid and jugular blood vessels. He fell to the floor, and
as he did, he gave the lady the courtesy of his name.
Archibald. I am Archibald Manius Mark Two!
There was
so much Veronica wanted to say but couldn’t. As Archibald bled out, and both
considered one another and their brief but powerful date, they had to agree
that internet dating was a deadly game. One not to be played lightly, naively,
or unarmed to the perils. Then Archibald died, choking on his blood. As Veronica removed her virtual reality gear
to shower, she silently swore never to try internet dating again.
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