by L. V. Lloyd
When would Evan realise he didn’t need her anymore? Not when he had Joey.
Abdomen
Evan was sitting at the bar at the World’s End again, waiting for Matt. It had been a long time since he’d seen him. In fact, now he thought about it, he hadn’t seen him since he’d been going out with Joey. At first because it would have been too awkward for everyone—after all, Joey had broken up with Matt so he could go out with Evan, and then because—well, because Joey said he still felt awkward. But today Matt had rung Evan and said he’d like to catch up. He had sounded cheerful and friendly, not a bit as if he was holding a grudge, but he had also been quite clear that the invitation was for Evan only.
“Evan! It’s good to see you!” Evan looked up to see Matt standing beside him. He was smiling. “Give me a hug! It’s been ages.”
Evan found he was smiling too. The two men hugged and slapped each other on the back. Damn it, thought Evan, it was good to see Matt—it had been too long. “So how are you?”
“Good—really good. And you?”
“Oh, you know, fine.”
“You look a bit tired. Burning the candle at both ends, are you?” Matt looked searchingly at Evan, fighting to hide the shock he felt at the change in his friend. Evan looked tired and drawn, as if he had aged ten years.
“No, not really,” Evan laughed. “This is the first time I’ve been out for ages.”
“You still with Joey?” asked Matt.
“Yes.” Evan felt self-conscious, as if he should apologise. But Matt interrupted before he could get the words out.
“You don’t need to worry, I don’t blame you or anything.” Matt paused, considering his words. “I felt a bit relieved to be honest, when Joey and I broke up. I think we’d run our course—I was starting to feel a bit trapped.”
“Trapped?” asked Evan sceptically, on the verge of taking offence.
Matt put a hand on his arm. “Bear with me for a moment. I don’t know about you, but I found Joey very demanding, needy almost. We always had to do everything together, I mean everything apart from going to the toilet, and I was starting to feel like I didn’t have a life of my own.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” protested Evan. “Of course he wants to do things together. We love each other.”
“Tell me, when was the last time you did anything by yourself? Apart from coming out tonight? ”
“It wasn’t that long ago. And so what? I like doing things with Joey.”
Matt wasn’t finished. “And when did you last see Angie and Julia? Angie said she hasn’t seen you in ages. You used to be always in and out of each other’s pockets.”
“Well, things change. She’s got Julia and I’ve got Joey to consider.”
“Being in a relationship shouldn’t mean you have to turn into a recluse.” Matt was worried that he was fighting a losing battle, but he had to keep trying.
Evan was starting to feel defensive—and angry. “Matt, did Angie put you up to this?”
“She’s worried about you, and now that I see you—I’m worried too!”
“You don’t need to be! I’m fine!” Evan shook his head. He stood up to leave. “Joey told me she was jealous but I didn’t believe him—until now.”
He decided to walk home, it wasn’t far and he needed to work off his anger.
He felt a bit breathless as he strode along, which was a bit of a worry—the walk wasn’t that far. Perhaps he should consider going back to the gym again and building up his fitness. He smiled as he remembered how possessive Joey had been, complaining that the other men were checking out Evan’s taut muscles. So naturally enough he’d stopped going. Maybe they could get a fitness machine for the lounge so he wouldn’t have to go out.
Evan sighed. He’d been looking forward to catching up with Matt and only see what had happened. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He turned into their street and quickened his pace. Nearly home!
Tarsus
Joey sat in front of the television, feeling angry with Evan. That didn’t happen very often these days, but it had tonight. Evan had gone out, without him. For some reason, Evan decided he needed to catch up with Matt at the pub, and Joey hadn’t been invited.
Joey poured himself another glass of wine and drank it. He turned off the remote with a jab on the button. How could he be expected to watch their favourite program without Evan beside him? How could Evan be so selfish?
He went to bed, still angry.
An hour later, Joey woke with a start. He glanced over at the other side of the bed but it was empty. Evan must still be out with Matt. Joey was feeling very peculiar—his stomach was queasy and he couldn’t feel his legs properly. He frowned—surely he hadn’t drunk that much! But now he was awake, he needed to use the toilet and he should get a glass of water.
Grumbling to himself, he scrambled out of bed, and fell straight to the floor. He lay there, feeling a touch of fear for the first time. Where was Evan when he needed him?
What on earth was the matter with him—what was wrong with his legs? Had they gone to sleep while he was lying in an awkward position? He reached down to slap his legs rather briskly to get the blood circulating again, but instead found he was touching soft fur.
Joey swore. Was that Snuggles? How had he got in? He wasn’t supposed to come into the bedroom. He was lucky Joey hadn’t fallen right on top of him.
Well, he couldn’t stay here on the floor all night. He reached up and switched on the bedside lamp—and screamed.
E-Contact
Warren O’Neill, the President of Tantric Energy, stood with his back to the room, gazing out through the window. The glass wall gave him an excellent view of the blanket of fog settling over the city, filling the streets with grey mist, curling its way around buildings, causing tiny drops of moisture to form on the outside of this very window.
He frowned. Surely fog was unusual for this time of year? In winter, there were foggy days certainly, but not in summer. Summer was for thunderstorms and lightning, drenching rains—not fog. Yet fog had been drifting down the coast from the north for the past week.
Only this morning he had woken to find the street outside his house almost impenetrable. He’d been unable to see the house on the opposite side. His driver had taken them at a crawling pace, narrowly avoiding a neighbour’s rubbish bin on the curb, and he hadn’t been the only one to breathe a sigh of relief when they pulled up in front of T.E. Towers.
Every thinking person knew the current preoccupation with “climate change” was nonsense, merely a fad propagated by greenies, but there was certainly something weird going on with the weather this week.
He shrugged and turned back to the room, where ten members of his senior board were waiting for his answer. He didn’t have time to wonder about a bit of fog, not when he had a hostile takeover bid to defeat.
O’Neill opened the door to his home, feeling tired but triumphant. He had won! The bid was defeated. The process had taken a whole week—longer than he had expected—but he’d won. Tantric Energy was still his, and now he could move forward with that new coal mine in India. He glanced at the small pile of letters on the hall table waiting for his attention, his lip curling with involuntary scorn. When would people finally get with the modern world and send emails?
A large envelope sat fatly on the top of the pile. He picked it up and slit open the top, expecting an advertising brochure to fall out, but instead he found himself staring at his divorce papers.
“Yes!”
Finally he could move on with his life. He grinned as he climbed the stairs to his study. He’d take the night off and allow himself a glass or two of whisky to celebrate. No work for once. He’d sit down at his computer and browse the internet. Maybe a movie or maybe he’d have a quick look at that new dating site everyone at work was talking about, the one that had sent eHarmony plummeting. What was it called again? Contract? No, Contact, that was it.
O’Neill poured a large whisky into
a crystal tumbler, sipped, and fired up his computer.
After checking the latest news, he hesitated for a moment. Was he going to do it? He felt a touch of unaccustomed self-consciousness. At least he was in the privacy of his own home, unlike his secretary Gail, who accessed Contact at work every time she had a break.
Why not? He’d just have a look, he wouldn’t sign up or anything. Unless it had an option for “Hot Babes, One-night stands ‘R Us,” he sniggered to himself. Well, why not check it out, what harm could it do?
He keyed in “Contact.” Immediately the site came up, at the top of the list.
“E-Contact—where people connect.
World’s Best online dating service. Guaranteed. Contact for FREE until 14th February. Don’t miss out! Find out more...”
O’Neill clicked on the link.
“E-Contact. The better the points of contact, the better the match. Just follow our easy three-step process. These multiple choice questions will guarantee to match you with your perfect partner.
Yes, there are 60 questions, but you will be surprised how quickly you can run through them.
Naturally, matching your personality to your perfect partner is a far more complex process than a survey to discover your favourite breakfast cereal!
Step One—First Contact
Twenty questions to reveal your core personality type. Forget those boring stereotypes offered by other companies. Whether you are an introvert or an extrovert hardly matters. Are you a hunter or a gatherer? A fearless leader or a loyal supporter? Do you look up at the stars or study the atom?
Just answer the following questions as honestly as you can. You may surprise yourself.”
Despite himself, O’Neill found he was answering the questions silently as he went. Definitely a hunter and a fearless leader! The next one was a bit harder—stars or atoms? Without thinking twice, he started on the questionnaire. After all, he could always pull out if he didn’t like the results.
Nuclear missiles flashed across space from west to east in beautiful symmetry. Cities and armed installations exploded with satisfying bursts of red light.
General Parker Rodriguez watched the latest demonstration from the Strategic Defense Initiative with deep satisfaction. It wasn’t real, of course. The IBMs were merely laser beams, standing in for their deadly cousins, but the weapons they represented were real enough.
Previous governments had tried to bury the SDI project but he was one of the few who knew it was still active. Active, with hundreds of people working silently behind the scenes to protect America and indeed, the entire planet. Rodriguez knew because he was currently the man in charge. Ostensibly the missile network was designed to counter a potential attack from a rival nation, which was still a possibility (though rather remote at this current time), but Rodriguez had a larger objective in mind.
Sooner or later, Earth would come under attack from another species. Invaders from outer space. Aliens. He knew that, as well as he knew the sun would rise tomorrow. Earth would come under attack and they would have to be ready, ready to defend themselves and fight for their lives.
Occasionally he allowed himself to speculate as to what form the Aliens would take. Would they be those small grey humanoid shapes with huge eyes that featured so heavily in science fiction? Was it possible they had already paid a visit to Earth, perhaps far enough back in Earth’s past to provide a “race memory”? For a moment he could almost see them, shadowy shapes exploring the planet, ignoring the amazed stares of primitive Neanderthals.
He laughed disparagingly at his own fancy. No, far more likely they would be cyborgs—hi-tech metal robots—laying the planet waste from armed ships in the skies before descending to wipe out the last few cells of human resistance.
He laughed at himself again. Too much imagination, that was his problem. But though he didn’t believe for one second in the existence of flying saucers with little green men conducting random anal probes, he still knew that Aliens were out there. Somewhere. And one day, they would come.
And he was making damn sure that Earth was going to be as ready as possible.
Once a week, Rodriguez ate his lunch in the employee canteen, choosing a different group to sit with each time. He had to admit, it had taken him a while to adjust to civilian protocols. The majority of staff were not military and had to be treated differently than troops who were trained to obey orders. As well as helping him get to know his staff, Rodriguez found that the weekly visit helped keep his finger on the project’s pulse. If the mood was upbeat, he could relax—if it was morose, he could take action to try and turn things around.
He entered the canteen and cast a quick look around as he always did, checking who was present and who was not. A group of young men was clustered around a table, peering over the shoulder of one of the tech assistants who had his tablet out in front of him. Rodriguez wandered over to join them.
“Anything interesting?” he asked, careful to sound casual.
“It’s just that new dating site, sir. Contact. Manning here has got to the third step and we’re all waiting to see what she looks like.” The speaker turned back to peer over Manning’s shoulder again. A couple of the men whistled as a beautiful young woman appeared on the screen. She had long blond hair, wide blue eyes and—apparently—large breasts.
Rodriguez looked doubtfully at the rather ordinary young man who was already flushed and grinning.
“It’s a scam!” said one of his friends, scornfully. “You can’t tell me a girl like that would be interested in you.”
“No, it’s real,” said another, in earnest tones. “My brother went through the site and found his current girlfriend. She’s a real stunner, and not only that, she likes baseball. I mean really likes it. She says she’d rather go to a game with Darryl than go to a movie.”
“Go on! He just got lucky.” The doubter wasn’t convinced. “I bet they pay them to go out with guys a few times. You’ll see, they’ll break up after a week or two.”
“Well, I wouldn’t complain,” laughed one. “Not if mine looked like that!”
Rodriguez joined in the laughter, but he couldn’t help agreeing with the doubter, it did all sound a bit too good to be true. Still, he didn’t have time to wonder about dating sites, he had a military project to finish.
O’Neill hurried home from work, his steps lightening as he neared the door.
Tonight he was going to complete the second step of Contact. He’d filled in the first part a week ago but caution had kept him from moving on. Apart from a slight feeling of self-consciousness (he’d always considered these sorts of sites were for losers), confidentiality was all important. Despite his private joke about one night stands, as President of one of the world’s top companies he couldn’t afford to be caught up in anything tacky.
He had done some research on the company, including checking to see if his Facebook account was suddenly spouting dating ads—or at least—any more than usual, but although Contact was very new, so far everything seemed to check out. Contact was what it said it was—an online dating site and a very successful one at that.
O’Neill microwaved his dinner and took it upstairs. Eagerly, he sat down in front of the computer and opened up his Contact account. Everything appeared as he had left it, his answers still in “draft” form. He pressed “Save” and waited for the next screen to load.
“Step Two—Second Contact
Congratulations! Now we have your core personality established, we can move on to discover your perfect match. What are you looking for in a partner? What are your three top “must haves?” And perhaps even more importantly, those three “must NOT haves?”
Just answer the following questions as honestly as you can.”
Aah. Here was the meaty part, the remaining 40 questions to complete his personality profile and flesh out his perfect partner.
Two hours later, he looked up to discover that he had completed the questionnaire and that his dinner had gone cold.
/> He stretched, started to get up, then sat down again. He was so close to finishing. He’d just check what the next step involved and then he’d go downstairs and heat up another meal. He pressed “Save,” and waited impatiently. A minute later, the screen refreshed and he read,
“Step Three—Third Contact
Yes, the step you have been waiting for. Time to meet your new partner. Click on the link below to see her picture and email details. E-Contact wishes you both the best of fortune in your new relationship. The rest is up to you!”
O’Neill couldn’t wait. He clicked on the link.
A dark haired beauty appeared on his screen. She had perfect creamy skin, deep brown eyes, full lips and—apparently—large breasts.
He knew he should really be spending his time on finalising the India project, but he hesitated. What if she was waiting for his email? A beauty like that wouldn’t hang around waiting for ever. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to spend a few more minutes making that first contact and getting acquainted?
Rodriguez paused in the doorway to the canteen, surprised by the quiet. Everyone in the room appeared to be logged into their phones or tablets. Eyes were fixed on screens. Occasionally someone would turn to their neighbour to show them something or ask a question but mostly everyone sat in silence, concentrating. A quick glance at the nearest screens showed a familiar site—he would have bet a week’s pay that everyone, or nearly everyone, was accessing their Contact account.
Unaccountably, the hair prickled on the back of Rodriguez’s neck. There was something uncanny about all those people doing the same thing. It was like they were hypnotised. He shrugged off the feeling. It was just a fad, like My Space had been years ago, or the latest computer game. As long as Contact didn’t interfere with their work, employees were free to use it as much as they liked.
