by Gina LaManna
“Figured what out?” Clay crossed his arms, blocking my view of his room. But the way his eyes darted about and his weight shifted from one foot to another, he was up to something.
“Those snores.” I pushed past him, looking around the handsomely decorated bedroom, complete with a thick, mahogany dresser and deep maroon sheets fit for a king. “That’s what’s bothering me.”
“What about them?” Clay didn’t meet my eyes, his cheeks pink.
“Clay, I’m not an idiot. They’re still happening!” I glanced around the room, looking for the sound of the snores. “And you’re awake, talking to me, but the snores continue…aha!”
“Lacey, wait—” Clay followed me over to the dresser, on which a small computer sat open, the screen blinking with the up and down waves that looked like a heart monitor. Except I suspected this was a snore monitor. Or snore simulator, more likely.
“Are you doing this just to torture me?” I gestured to the intercom next to the computer’s speakers, tape over the On button to broadcast to the “interior” house.
“No, of course not.” Clay had the nerve to sound annoyed. “It’s not torture at all.”
“Please explain. Why are you keeping me awake with mechanical snores?” I shook my head. “I knew I detected a pattern. Nobody saws wood in such a rhythmical fashion.”
“It does have a pattern, doesn’t it?” Clay said. “I almost like it.”
“Yeah, every third rotation the fake person coughs with the snore,” I said. “I’ve heard the cycle about a hundred times.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Clay, just talk to me.” I stepped towards him. “What’s going on? I came down here because I couldn’t sleep, and I wanted to be rested for tomorrow, but if you want to talk—”
“I said I’d shut it off.”
“That’s not the point.” I perched on the edge of his bed. “I thought you were doing this on accident, or as a joke. But I don’t think that’s the case. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Clay looked at the floor.
I gestured around the room. “You’ve got the intercom taped to On, a snore system to convince everyone you’re sleeping, and then a setup in the corner that NASA would be proud of.”
Clay glanced towards the large, antique wooden desk in the far corner. He’d set up multiple laptop screens, bundles of wires, and a headset.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He formed his lips into a firm line. “My personal business.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Bull.” I stood up, walking over to my cousin, a finger pointed in his direction. “Because you were talking to someone, I heard you. Do you have a visitor in here?”
“No!”
“But you were talking to someone?”
Clay sighed, finally meeting my eyes with a resigned expression. “Why do you care? It’s not bothering you.”
“Well, it is, but that’s not why I’m asking. I’m asking because you’re my cousin, and I’m interested in the answer.” I threw up my hands. “I moan and whine and cry to you all the time. I come to you with problems, puzzles, requests – you name it. You’re allowed to do the same with me.”
“I can figure out my own problems. I don’t need your help.”
“Everyone needs a little help from time to time, Clay,” I said. “There’s no shame in asking. Now, I don’t know about computers, sure. But believe it or not, I can shut up and listen. Sometimes all it takes is a sounding board for ideas to work themselves out.”
Clay bit his lip, glancing at his setup in the corner. “It’s embarrassing.”
My jaw fell open. “You wanna talk to me about embarrassing?” I rolled my eyes. “My boyfriend just dirty talked to me across the whole intercom system tonight. I think you’ve got a ways to go before you catch up to that.”
Clay’s cheeks colored a bright red, but he let out a wry smile. “I suppose.”
“See?” I paused. “I know you’re talking to someone. Who is it? Is this something with Horatio?”
“It’s about your dad.”
“It is? Well, of course I want to help, then. Except…” I narrowed my eyes in his direction. “You’re lying. I can tell when you’re lying.”
Clay didn’t deny it.
I stepped closer. “This is that thing you and Horatio were talking about on the plane, isn’t it? The thing you said I’d freak about. The thing you guys have been talking about for months. The thing you’ve been doing online.”
“Well—”
“Try me, Clay. I promise I won’t freak.”
“I didn’t mean freak in a bad way.”
“Then humor a smaller mind than yours,” I said. “What did you mean by freak?”
“I meant…I don’t want you to know. Can’t we leave it at that?”
I exhaled a heavy breath that whistled on its way out. “Fine, Clay. I’m not going to beg you to talk to me. As long as you promise me it has nothing to do with this assignment, or Lizabeth in any way, then I’ll leave you be.”
“I promise it has nothing to do with that.” Clay’s expression was a complicated one, filled with uncertainty. “You know that. This is something I’ve been working on for months, almost a year. It started long before you ever met Lizabeth.”
“I believe you.”
“It started back when I met Horatio around the Fourth of July, I promise—”
“I believe you, Clay.” I gave a disheartened shrug. “I trust you. I just wish you’d talk to me. But if you say it’s not about the job, I believe you. End of story.”
“But—”
“No more buts.” I moved around Clay, resting my hand on the doorknob to let myself out of the room. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate you either untaping the intercom’s On button or shutting off your snoring machine. I won’t try to listen in on whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Lacey…”
I stepped out of the room, pausing before closing the door. I’d been in Clay’s position before – wanting to talk about something, but not sure if I was ready. And from experience, I knew that nothing I could say would convince Clay to talk until he was ready.
“I’m here when you need me,” I said, shutting the door. I whispered through the wood. “Good night, Clay.”
I stood outside the door for an extended minute, resting my hand against the wooden panel, giving Clay sixty more seconds to reconsider. But after a hundred and twenty seconds, he still hadn’t uttered a word, or come to the door, or even adjusted the snoring machine. I sighed, dropping my hand to my side, and retreated down the hallway.
“Lacey, wait.”
I smiled, already halfway down the hall, and stopped walking. I hid my grin before turning around, forming my face into a passive expression. “Yes?”
“Do you have a minute?”
I couldn’t hide it anymore; my lips turned up in a huge grin. “I have as many minutes as you’d like.”
Clay tilted his head towards the room, a subtle invitation. Before he could change his mind, I hightailed it back down the hall and into his room, situating myself cross-legged on the bed.
Clay stalled, first shutting off the snore computer, then removing the tape from the intercom system. By the time he turned to me, his eyes had clouded over once more.
“Don’t you go backing out now,” I said. “You want to talk about something, it’s obvious. I said I wouldn’t force you, and I won’t, but you called me back here for a reason, Clay.”
He heaved a sigh. “This is awkward.”
“I’ve out-awkwarded you more times than you can count,” I said. “And with the gigantic-sized brain you have over there, I’m guessing you can count pretty high.”
Clay gave a noncommittal nod. “I can really get up there.”
“We’re still talking about numbers?”
Clay gave me a half-hearted smile.
“Listen, my point is that you don’t have to w
orry. I won’t laugh at you. I want to help, believe it or not.”
“But we always make fun of each other,” Clay said. “And if you laugh at me now, it would hurt my feelings.”
“Hey, hey!” I snapped my fingers. “Look here, buddy. We’re family. That’s what families do. We laugh and tease and make jokes that nobody else is allowed to do because we’re related. But when I’ve come to you with real problems, you always know when to cut the jokes, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Works both ways,” I said, spreading my arms wide. “I’ve got your back, just as much as you’ve got mine. I won’t laugh, Clay.”
He pursed his lips.
“Unless it’s really funny…” I wheedled, trying for a joke.
It worked. Clay gave a reluctant twist of his lips upward. “It’s sorta funny.”
“Really? Now you’ve piqued my curiosity.” I laughed. “The way you were talking, I thought it was serious.”
“It’s just embarrassing.”
“Enough with the embarrassing. We’re so far past that, it’s not even funny.” The humor tactic seemed to be working, so I kept up with it. “The day I caught you with a naked mannequin named Veronica, any shame you still had should’ve disappeared.”
“Yeah, well, what about that time you got stuck in the laying desk?” Clay said. “You had to call Anthony to rescue you.”
“What about the time you called Anthony a pretty kitty?”
“What about the time you dated a Russian mobster?”
“What about the time you took over my date for the entire night?”
“What about that time you went to the nudey spa?”
“What about that time you wore skinny jeans to Thanksgiving?”
“That wasn’t embarrassing.” Clay looked confused. “That was stylish.”
“Carlos didn’t think so.”
“Carlos can be a close-minded prick.”
“My point is not about whether or not skinny jeans should be allowed in the Luzzi estate,” I said, breaking into a fit of giggles. “Clay, do you realize how many embarrassing moments we’ve shared in the few short years we’ve known each other? There’s bound to be more. It’s better to get over it sooner rather than later.”
“Is that what you do? Being all awkward and clumsy all the time, is it an act? I understand now. You’re just trying to get all the embarrassment out of the way.”
“What? I’m not awkward.”
Clay shot me a curious look. “You never seem fazed by anything that goes wrong. You just laugh and move on.”
“Either I’m gonna laugh or cry,” I said with a shrug. “I got sick of crying. Believe me, laughing is way better. Sweatshirt blows up? No problem. If nobody’s hurt, I try not to read too deeply into anything.”
“Hmm.” Clay scratched his jaw. “Interesting.”
“Let’s test out this theory,” I said. “Talk to me about whatever’s on your mind. We’ll decide together if it’s funny or serious.”
“And you won’t like me any less if it’s stupid?”
“Clay, of course not! That’s just silly. I like you. I even love you.”
Clay gasped.
“Like a brother,” I said, trying to keep my patience levels high. “That’ll never change.”
A flurry of expressions crossed Clay’s face before he eventually nodded. “Come here, then. It’s time.”
I followed Clay over to his NASA setup on the desk, careful not to show too much excitement. I’d been wondering, asking, prodding Horatio and Clay for months to find out what they did so often online. If it’d been anything worth bragging about, I would’ve heard about it a hundred times by now. I couldn’t imagine what sort of experiment Clay had spent so much time on, and kept so secret.
“Is this it?” I gestured to the screen.
“Lacey, I haven’t even turned the computer on yet.”
“Oh.” I climbed onto the only spare corner of the desk, swinging my legs off the side. “That explains the black screen, I suppose.”
“I am no longer embarrassed. Thanks for taking care of the first embarrassing moment.”
“You’re welcome.” I reached out and squeezed Clay’s shoulder, which was tense. He booted up the thing, numbers whizzing, contraptions beeping, keys buzzing. “This sounds like a spaceship taking off.”
“I’ve put a lot of work into this project,” Clay said. “It hasn’t been easy.”
“Can I get a hint? You’re making me crazy trying to guess.”
“This is it.” Clay gestured towards the screen. He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips, as if salivating over the last brownie in the pan. “I’ve never tried her yet.”
“Her?”
“My computers are mostly girls,” Clay said. “Don’t know why, just happened that way.”
“I’m confused. Computers don’t actually have genders, do they?”
Clay rolled his eyes. “It’s like a car. You can name it a boy or a girl, it doesn’t matter.”
I nodded. “So, are you gonna tell me what I’m looking at?”
“You’re looking at Project Perfect.” Clay leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his head, and beamed as if he’d discovered the cure for toe fungus. “It’s groundbreaking. Life-changing.”
I squinted at the screen, but couldn’t summon the same reaction. “I’m not understanding. What’s so perfect about it? Er…what does it do?”
The screen was light blue now, blank except for a box that said: First Name, Last Name.
“Well, you input your name for starters,” Clay said, but didn’t make a move to put his name in the box.
“Okay, thanks, Einstein. I understood that much. But what comes out after you put your name in?”
“That’s where the magic happens.” Clay leaned towards the computer, resting his elbow on his desk, his head in his palm. “I’ve created the ultimate computer program to make life’s hardest decision for me.”
“What’s life’s hardest decision?”
Clay blinked. “Well, who to marry, of course.”
A hundred zillion thoughts leapt into my head all at once, causing my brain to become so cluttered I couldn’t voice a single one of them. He’d stunned me speechless by yet another invention. I had to give him credit, he never ceased to surprise me.
“Wow. Hmm. Well, Clay…” I paused. “Gosh.”
“Big project, huh?” He looked up at me with expectant eyes, a bit of worry tinging the pride hidden in his irises. “Took a lot of work. I just put the final touches on the thing during the plane ride over.”
“I am certainly impressed. I didn’t even know you were looking for a spouse, to be honest. I’m just surprised.”
“I’m not looking at the moment.” Clay shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “But someday, maybe I’ll want to. Now, it just takes a press of the button.”
“Really.”
“Yes, it’s perfect! Whenever I decide I want to get married, I just put my name in, click Enter, and the name of my future wife pops right back out. I’ll just show this to her, and…whabam. Done deal.”
“You do know marriage is a two-way street?” I crossed my arms. “She has to agree, you know.”
“Duh,” Clay said. “But once I show her the evidence, I’m sure she’ll agree. It’s irrefutable. I’ve factored in every possible scenario and layer that I’ve found, based on extensive research. There’s no way it’ll fail.”
“May I ask how it works?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Clay grinned, sinking into his comfort zone again, a zone filled with numbers, programs, and stats. “It starts out as basic mathematics. Once you enter your name, it finds the city you live in, and other places you’ve been or might consider moving to, should you find a mate there.”
I frowned. “Creepy.”
“No, smart.”
“The line between them is shaky,” I said. “We’re bordering on artificial intelligence here, by the sounds of it.�
�
“No.” Clay waved a hand in dismissal, though he looked intrigued at the thought. “But something to consider in the future, I suppose.”
At my dismayed look, he dropped it and continued the explanation.
“Once it has all your potential locations pulled, it finds the population of males and females, calculates your interest in both, and then spits back a list of potential candidates in your preferred gender in your preferred cities.”
“That’s still a lot of people.”
“Oh, you don’t see this part, this all happens in the background. Takes a split second,” Clay said. “Then, the program takes this list, removes those too young, too old, those married, and those in a “complicated” relationship, whatever Facebook means by that. Then it starts paring them down to a more manageable level, taking into account activities, careers, preferences, life goals – whether they want children, for instance – and a variety of other factors.”
“How do you know these things?” My jaw hung open.
“You’d be impressed what a person can glean from the Internet,” Clay said. “Even hyper-aware, very private people leave a trail, and with the right tools, it’s not difficult to track.”
It might not be difficult to track for someone with an IQ as high as Clay’s, but for a normal-IQ’d person like myself, this both scared and astounded me. I nearly fainted just thinking what Clay could learn about me, if he tried hard enough.
“Essentially, the computer program iterates until it pares down all of the people in the world to one name. It has ninety-nine percent accuracy, based on my calculations.”
Clay sighed, sitting back once more, staring straight at the screen ahead. I remained silent, the two of us lost in our own thoughts. While I suspected Clay’s were mostly filled with pride and accomplishment, mine were filled with misgivings.
Besides the terrifying notion that Clay could scrape enough information from the Internet to match everyone with a spouse, I feared that he’d be let down when this inevitably didn’t work. I didn’t want to burst his bubble, but if I didn’t infuse a dose of reality now, the Band-Aid would just become harder to pull off with time.
