<-- Darlings
In the early millennium it became apparent that plastic surgery, no matter how convincing, was only a band-aid on the bigger problem of getting old. It was like putting a fresh coat of varnish over rotting floorboards. Science, incidentally, began to provide some distinctly new solutions for the tiresome problem of aging. The body became just as malleable on the inside as on the outside.
When Aiden closed his mouth and opened his eyes, he found himself in an empty train. And at that moment of awakening he immediately heard three little chimes, as a voice traveled directly down his auditory nerve as a carefully assembled electrical ripple.
I can explain, said the voice.
Where the are we? thought Aden, to the voice, while blowing an exhausted raspberry from his mouth, as a "phfffhtp."
He pulled up his RetinaMap. Arlington?
Just yesterday you were thinking to me all the benefits of natural sleep, said the Assistant, so I gave you some.
Indeed, he had. He didn't think it directly to the Assistant, but he did think it, and rather loudly. Though his he worked a typical 6-2 (that is, 6am to 2am), Aiden had indeed longed for a good, old-fashioned 7-8 hours of supine, dreamful, non-productive equanimity. Someday, he'd find the time.
The time. It was projected right there on his RetinaMap.
Friends don't let friends sleep through dates! thought Aiden, very loudly.
Friends are very important, replied the assistant.
In the past, Aiden had heard that people made friends quite randomly. His grandfather had even met one of his best friends at work. But generally, people are very different, and the Assistants did a more than thorough job of sparing them the lengthy and painful process of determining compatibility, and from a safe distance.
But this particular Assistant could not stop Aiden from being quite late and undermining his compatibility score with Sydney. Earlier, he had placed the back of his head against the subway window, he had thought Just let me sleep naturally for a little bit, and the Assistant had, naturally, complied.
Now, the Assistant was in damage-control mode, carefully composing a thought to Sydney's Assistant, who then relayed a message back saying, Sydney understands that it was an honest mistake, and is still waiting for Aiden at the park.
There's no way to know if those were Sydney's actual thoughts. To be on the safe side, the Assistant a suggestion:
Flowers. I'll help you pick them out.
Aiden wondered why Sydney didn't leave already. He was an hour late. He thought it might have something to do with his new job.
Though working in Data carried a certain amount of caché, Aiden made a point of leaving out this little datapoint on his public profile. That way when people asked him what he did for work, he could read their reactions (which ranged from Impressive to You motherfucker.) Data was important, not just for making friends, but also maintaining the safety of the nation. The Department of Defense had recently set up a large model which hoovered up everything from security camera footage, to ThinkMails and RetiLenses (data which was supposed to be private), to utility bills. All of this was fed to one giant model of the world which made nearly all the decisions relating to national security.
So Aiden, at least as far as people were concerned, was one of the important ones.
Yet what Aiden didn't say was that apart from directing the flow of data one way or the other, he didn't understand his job at all. He only knew that to keep the job was important, and to maintain the impression of doing a good job was also important. There were a lot of things that were important, and only the model knew why.
Aiden, you're drifting off again...
Aiden was in no real rush to figure things out. Decades ago, this would have been the time to have a mid-life crisis. But midlife began to get farther away faster than he could approach it. Scientists, at the time, called this "escape velocity". They were adding more than one year of life, per year. People started forgetting their ages. They would respond with how old they felt. The years began to go by quickly, and yet life maintained a sense that it would go on forever.
Did he know Sydney's age? He couldn't remember.
Aiden. UP!
How old is she, thought Aiden. Remind me?
Silence.
Well?
I'm ignoring you for your own good.
Come on, I'm curious! he thought at maximum volume.
Get off at the next stop, a cab's on its way.
His retinal display spotted her first, but you couldn't miss her. She had long, stylishly white hair and the trendy, pearlescent translucent skin that only people like her could afford. It was unusual looking, to be pink and sparkly like that.
In particular, he was informed that se had a very good heart. In fact, as he scanned through her profile on his display, he thought he could even make out the model of it just based on the glow of its LEDs: white and blue indicated a DX-Custom, extra long-lasting, and pretty new on the market. Of course, identifying it was the whole point of adding lights to it.
His might began to wonder about what other fixtures she might have. Intriguing.
You've started smiling, said the Assistant, go with something more stoic. And don't shoot the messenger.
He tried his best to frown a little bit more as he stepped up to her. He put on a cool, narrow-eyed, Clint Eastwood face and stood between her from the sun. She was looking into the distance, as people on their retinal displays often do.
But even without being able to see him, the slight change in temperature on her sensitive skin told her that someone was close by.
"Sydney?" said Aiden. She was looking right through him.
She blinked a few times, and her pupils noticeably shrank. He thought he saw her eyes flicker.
"Oh!" she said, "Are you... Aiden?"
It was a rhetorical question, of course, because as soon as she made eye contact with him, each of their retinal displays had both wirelessly and cryptographically confirmed the identity of the other person. But besides that, Sydney was also still watching a live feed, partially holographic, that included most of Aiden's entire profile including every reel and story he had ever published. That meant his work situation (Impressive bastard, she thought) as well as his romantic life (less impressive and, inexplicably, set to publicly viewable.)
"I got you these on the way" he said, handing her the flowers with a steely expression on his face.
Slightly more smiling, said the Assistant, don't be scary.
"Oh, wow. Those are... my favorite." Sydney said, pretending to be very grateful. Aiden, meanwhile, pretended to be surprised that he had nailed it.
"I know it's a lot, but... open the card."
She gave him a curious look, and peeled open the envelope. Inside was a tiny rectangle that said
REDEEMABLE FOR ONE FREE POEM, READ OUT LOUD
"Any poem?"
"Any one you want."
"Okay. Do Persimmons, by Li-Young Lee."
Ready when you are, said the Assistant. -->