(Chapter One)(Chapter Two)
Bitsy rabbit-holed her way through what must have been a thousand thoughts on the walk to Sitemapson Lincorporated, only to find when she got there that she couldn't remember a thing she'd been thinking about. A light rain started up at some point, barely more than a mist, really, but enough that her failure to notice and pull out her umbrella left her hair and the shoulders of her blouse noticeably damp by the time she entered the building's lobby.
Oh, great, two days running I'm getting to work with my outfit a mess. What's everyone going to think?
But as the morning wore on, an even worse realization connected for her: no one noticed in the slightest. She'd bent several ears the day before about her coffee catastrophe, including her work pal Trish's, but the call from Cord reached her after everyone else had gone home. Aside from Gigory, the whole office remained oblivious to the fact that she'd met up with someone this morning -- no one had any reason to ask how it had gone.
And certainly Gigory wasn't going to ask.
Over lunch with Trish, she found herself bursting to talk about it ... only to realize that not a single moment worth discussing would actually bear discussion. First, I was petrified while we stood in line because as soon as I ordered, he'd know for sure I was a fraud. Then his phone kept distracting him. Then I saw Gigory and tried to hide. Then I almost knocked over a plant and Gigory saved me but was crushed to find out I was there with someone else. Then I gave away my coffee and showed what a liar I was. Then Cord told me the most amazing things that I can't repeat. Then he clicked pause on the whole date, compressed it, archived it, and left. If I edit it down, all that's left is a failed meetup that sounds like he spam-foldered me.
And then she had a worse thought.
Did he?
He was Real. Someone unique in a world of millions of androids cranked out by the same factory that had produced her. He as much as told her straight up that in his opinion, she'd gotten a silly crush barely under the dream feed's specifications for remediation. He spent the same or more time looking at his phone, really, as talking to her. And then he'd spun a fanciful story full of bewildering numbers -- and ended by explicitly admitting his only reason for telling her was so she wouldn't think badly of him for clearing his cache of her to go about his workday.
No.
The things he'd told her about being in dream feed management ... what if she revealed them to everyone else? He wouldn't risk that, surely. Unless he just made it all up. And who would believe me if I told them? "Where'd you hear that, Bitsy? What? From a guy who spilled coffee on you one day and then cut and ran just a few minutes into your coffee date the next?" But still, he'd said it himself -- they had each other's numbers now. And he specifically noted that she could call him. Only ... he didn't say he'd pick up, did he? And he's Real, so how hard would it be for him to request a new number?
The hard-coded fact of it was, her momentary connection with the only Real person she'd ever met might already be over. She didn't want to believe it -- she didn't even want to think it -- but what if this was all?
What if she spent the rest of her life knowing she'd met someone Real ... and never had it happen again?
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