{"id":623,"date":"2012-07-24T00:59:17","date_gmt":"2012-07-24T00:59:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/?p=623"},"modified":"2023-11-04T15:06:31","modified_gmt":"2023-11-04T15:06:31","slug":"appreciation-for-falling-stars-a-must","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/?p=623","title":{"rendered":"Appreciation for Falling Stars a Must"},"content":{"rendered":"

We fell for each other.<\/p>\n

Hard.<\/p>\n

Like stars, it seemed.<\/p>\n

Had I thought about falling stars then, how they\u2019re just bits of space dust burning up as they hit the atmosphere, it likely would have taken some of the Zing!<\/em> out of my romantic illusions. <\/p>\n

But I didn\u2019t think about it.<\/p>\n

It was like we\u2019d been made for each other, something I did let myself think even though I knew the clich\u00e9 was only half true. I was as I\u2019d always been. She, though, she\u2019d been made for me. <\/p>\n

By me.<\/p>\n

It was a simple enough process. I\u2019d designed every bit of her, filling in all the blanks and boxes on the Realationship\u2122 site. And when I say design<\/em> I don\u2019t just mean the parts you might think. But everything. Down to the shape of her toes, the curve of her eyebrows. <\/p>\n

I remember sitting at the keyboard, my fingers caressing the track pad, working my way through eye color and skin tone. Each drop down menu needed a carefully considered click, like a little nudge, a little push. Each choice opened a window to more, with all of them weighed against the ones that had come before. <\/p>\n

And there\u2019d been myself to consider as well–measuring my lips to match against hers, moving my hands in just the right way to see how they\u2019d feel on the small of her back, following the prompts to upload my image so I could see how my brown eyes would reflect her blue. Finished, I\u2019d just needed to click on all the agreements, debit my account, and wait for delivery.<\/p>\n

The night I lost her, we lay in the back yard, a blanket between us and the ground. She rested her head on my arm, her blond hair threatening to make me sneeze as it tickled my nose. Our sweat had already begun to dry from the summer breeze, and if I moved my hand just a little I could trace the swell of her breast. It would have been perfect if we had seen a falling star then, but the cloudless sky yielded nothing but familiar constellations.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat time is it?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d designed her to disregard the tech she ran on. Occasionally, I\u2019d hear a servo spin somewhere in her body, but if she ever heard the same, she ignored it. And so, though her operating system included a perfectly accurate internal clock, it was instinctive of her to ask me the time or to check the delicate watch I\u2019d given her on our one-month anniversary.<\/p>\n

She wasn\u2019t wearing it now. Or anything else.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlmost ten,\u201d I said after raising my wrist and blocking out part of the sky for a moment.<\/p>\n

She seemed to take a second to process the information, then sat up, leaving my right arm and whole right side suddenly cool as the night air touched the skin she\u2019d just been pressed against. I smiled at the sight of her naked back.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m leaving,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

My smile faded.<\/p>\n

\u201cLeaving?\u201d I asked, nonplussed. My turn to process.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou,\u201d she added.<\/p>\n

Then she was up. Off the blanket and picking through the clothes scattered on the lawn.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat I said. I\u2019m leaving you.\u201d
\n<\/p>\n\n
<\/a>
Window View<\/em> by Leah Givens<\/center><\/strong><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

Quick about it, I went to her, gently gripping her shoulders and looking into her eyes. \u201cAre you having a malfunction?\u201d A breach in our protocol, but then again I was only responding to what seemed to be a bigger one.<\/p>\n

She looked insulted. And I knew it was real. Of all the boxes I\u2019d checked, all the options I\u2019d selected for emotional response and sensitivity, insulted<\/em> hadn\u2019t been one of them. I took my hands off her shoulders, suddenly feeling as though I was touching a stranger.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d I said. \u201cThis doesn\u2019t\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCompute?\u201d Sarcasm now. I definitely hadn\u2019t opted for sarcasm.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoesn\u2019t make sense.\u201d I said it more to myself than to her. <\/p>\n

She ignored the comment, turned to scoop her bra off the lawn and slipped her arms through the straps. Her face bore no expression as she covered herself, no glance at her lover to catch his appreciation of her body, no hint at the intimacy of their shared nudity. She may as well have been dressing in front of a houseplant.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis isn\u2019t supposed to happen,\u201d I said, dumbfounded. Knowing I was right didn\u2019t help. I felt suddenly that I was arguing with a real woman, that if I didn\u2019t watch my tone, she\u2019d use it against me. <\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d she asked. Her dress now up over her head, arms poking through sleeves, pulling the whole thing down.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026I made you. You\u2019re perfect. Everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything you need,\u201d she said. Smug. It was ugly, coming from her. I\u2019d never thought anything ugly about her. Never had reason.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd no thought to what I need.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat you\u2026\u201d I began. It should have been absurd, but the way she flipped her hair up and out of her collar told me it wasn\u2019t. And before I could second-guess myself or question the further absurdity of what I was about to say, out came, \u201cAnd what is it you need?\u201d<\/p>\n

In that instant before she answered, she felt more real to me than ever. She had more depth than I\u2019d imagined possible, much more than I\u2019d even fantasized when designing her. And all because for just a second or two I felt entirely ready to provide whatever she wanted, no matter how impossible.<\/p>\n

And then it crashed. \u201cYou\u2019re too late,\u201d she said. \u201cYou should have asked before.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore I found him<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou needn\u2019t worry about who. It\u2019s ten o\u2019clock in thirteen seconds. He said he\u2019d be out front at ten.\u201d She straightened the dress\u2019s waist and slipped on her sandals.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t be serious!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d Real curiosity in her voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow can you be?\u201d I swept my arm toward the blanket behind me. \u201cWe just made love!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. I hope you enjoyed it. I wanted to be sure our relationship had maximum satisfaction until termination. It was part of the agreement, after all.\u201d She extended a hand, meaning to offer a genial shake goodbye.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re mine, for God\u2019s sake!\u201d I shouted. \u201cYou can\u2019t just\u2026go! Some \u2026 some man<\/em> can\u2019t just come and take you.\u201d<\/p>\n

A smile then. Of understanding, but condescending, too. Something else I definitely hadn\u2019t selected. \u201cThe company pro-rates. You\u2019ll be refunded the unused portion of your guarantee.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I don\u2019t–\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you want to keep the clothes?\u201d she asked, moving to start unzipping the dress again. \u201cIs that it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cWell then. It has been a pleasure.\u201d<\/p>\n

A little nod and she was off, walking with purpose toward the gate that led out to the street. I watched her go for a few seconds, then raced across the lawn after her. <\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll have you shut down,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019ll have you decommissioned. Reprogrammed. I\u2019ll have you back!\u201d<\/p>\n

She ignored me. I was off her grid now, my voice a kind of static to her. In seconds she was out the gate. A simple little sedan was parked at the curb, a man inside it watching. Who was he? And how had he met her? And did he know what she was? <\/p>\n

I went through the gate after her and then stopped halfway across the lawn, remembering I was still naked. How I must have looked to him, and to any of my neighbors watching from their windows. Backing a few steps into the shadows, I saw her open the passenger door and slip into the car without giving me another look. Then the door shut and the engine came to life and she was gone.<\/p>\n

In complete disbelief, I remained there beside the bushes my gardener clipped once a month. And when crickets started chirping again after the car\u2019s hum had faded in the night, I turned and went back through the gate.<\/p>\n

Ignoring my clothes on the lawn, I went into the house and straight to the computer. The email was already there.<\/p>\n

\u201cDear Mr. Winters:<\/p>\n

\u201cIt has come to our attention that the Realationship\u2122 into which you entered with Provider #3165G9 has been terminated. We regret that the Realationship\u2122 did not last for the duration guaranteed in your original agreement and offer our sincere condolences. Management would like to assure you that such events are highly anomalous. We pride ourselves in high quality at every level–from selection to manufacture to duration. Unfortunately, no system is perfect, and such anomalies do occur on occasion due to malfunction in any of a number of systems.\u201d <\/p>\n

Any of a number of systems<\/em>, I thought. There was a veiled message in that, the implication that I was one of those systems, that her leaving was my fault. Disgusted, I shook my head and kept reading.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe understand that said termination may be highly distressing to our clients and will offer you, at the very least, a full refund of the unused portion of your original purchase price, as per your original contract. Additionally, we are glad to offer you an additional refund beyond the pro-rated amount if you would consent to participate in a brief quality control survey that will help us determine the causes of your Realationship\u2122\u2019s malfunction. Finally, we are also prepared to offer you a considerable discount on the purchase of a new Realationship\u2122, to which you may apply both the abovementioned refund and remuneration for survey participation. Below, please find three links, one for each of the options outlined above, selection of which will take you to our website where we will be able to process your request. Please note that you will need your account number and password to complete the refund, survey, or renewal processes. <\/p>\n

\u201cAgain, please accept our condolences. We hope you will continue in your association with our products, but in the event that you opt not to, we thank you for the business you have provided us in the past and wish you all the best.\u201d<\/p>\n

There were three links below the last line: Apply for Refund. Apply for Refund and Participate in Survey. Enter New Realationship\u2122.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cScrew that,\u201d I said and turned away from the glass-topped desk where the computer rested. Walking back to the open sliding glass door, I stood on the threshold and looked out at the yard, just able to make out the dark spot that was the blanket, then up at the sky that had seemed so perfect as it had spread out above us not ten minutes ago.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve had it<\/em>, I thought. Their offer was too late. No more synthetics for me. Real women were complicated, sure. But they never brought with them the indignity of being offered a refund when things fell apart.<\/p>\n

I decided I\u2019d delete their email, ignore all three options. Let my account just linger on their books, unresolved. An irritant to some sweaty mid-level manager being pressured to keep things streamlined. The thought gave me pleasure.<\/p>\n

Another thought followed, an even better one, and I smiled broadly.<\/p>\n

Ignoring their email would be just the first step. I\u2019d shower, dress and go out. Catching a woman\u2019s eye had never been a problem. Tonight would be no different. I\u2019d find a woman easily, probably have more than one to choose from if I timed it right. Not a relationship, certainly not a Realationship\u2122. Just a woman, a real one, just for the night. It would put things right again.<\/p>\n

I smiled at the thought of how easily I could wipe away the indignation with another woman\u2019s kiss.<\/p>\n

But before I turned away from the door, I saw it. Just at the edge of my vision. A flash. Not imagined. And gone before I\u2019d even had the chance to focus on it. Its ghost just resonating in my mind. A falling star blasting its way across the night. <\/p>\n

The thought it generated couldn\u2019t be ignored. The possibility. Appreciation for falling stars<\/em>. If I\u2019d typed that in as her first quality before, I wouldn\u2019t be alone now. And while there was no going back, there was such a thing as starting over. Not in the reconciliation sense, the marriage counselor sense. More real than that. There was a learning curve here. Maybe the malfunction really had been mine, but not in my treatment of her. Rather, in my design. Take out the flaws, add in the perfection.<\/p>\n

A click of the mouse and my choice would be flying across the net, an impulse made of ones and zeroes, hurtling through the ether like a falling star.<\/p>\n

My pulse quickened at the thought, desire riding me even as I began to second-guess myself.<\/p>\n

Incurring a bit more debt was nothing compared to the benefits when I thought about that blanket, the stars, the swell of her breast. And the personal cost was negligible as well; picking up a woman in a bar would be satisfying in the short term but was always somehow disappointing in the end. Always some little thing that would be wrong, an odd glance, a bored sigh, a little aloofness just when I wanted her all to myself. <\/p>\n

But designing a new one\u2026 I thought about the acerbic tone her voice had taken when she\u2019d gone over to sarcasm, wondered if I could take it again if it should happen a second time. There was a risk, but one I\u2019d not thought about when going through the process the first time. Now, with the possibility of collapse at the front of my thoughts, I could start over forewarned.<\/p>\n

Still, should I? Did I dare?<\/p>\n

I looked back at the computer, the email still open on the desktop, the links still waiting for me to choose. <\/p>\n

I swallowed.<\/p>\n

Hard.<\/p>\n

And stepped away from the door.<\/p>\n

Richard Levesque has spent most of his life in Southern California. For the last several years he has taught composition and literature, including science fiction, as part of the English Department at Fullerton College. Along with science fiction, his interests include Los Angeles and Hollywood history and culture, film noir, and hardboiled detective fiction. He has combined these interests with science fiction in his novel, Take Back Tomorrow<\/a>, currently available in print and e-book editions. His latest novella, Dead Man’s Hand<\/a>, is currently available in e-book format for Kindle. When not writing or grading papers, he works on his collection of old science fiction pulps and spends time with his wife and daughter.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

We fell for each other. Hard. Like stars, it seemed. Had I thought about falling stars then, how they\u2019re just bits of space dust burning up as they hit the atmosphere, it likely would have taken some of the Zing! out of my romantic illusions. But I didn\u2019t think about it. It was like we\u2019d …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12,21,23],"tags":[1341,1342,24],"class_list":["post-623","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-science-fiction","category-slipstream","category-tcl-3-spring-2012","tag-science-fiction","tag-slipstream","tag-the-colored-lens-3-spring-2012","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/623","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/22"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=623"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/623\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139713,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/623\/revisions\/139713"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=623"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=623"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=623"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}