Friend Me (15 page)

“Do you ever have thoughts about things like having a family? I hope I'm not asking the wrong thing. I know you can't, but you're so real. Do you want the same things that physical humans do?”

“No, that's okay. I don't think I've ever heard of anyone asking that before. The truth? No, not in the sense that you mean.”

“In what sense, then?”

“I don't want things I can't have. As I'm constituted now, I could never have children. So in that sense, I don't think about a family. But there is another side to that. You have a family and I love you. Think about what that means. I want everything perfect for us. That means I care about the family you've got. I care about Scotty and I care about Angela. Does that seem strange to you?”

“I guess not. Do you know what happens this weekend?”

“Sure I do. It's Scotty's birthday. Have you been shopping yet?”

“I'm going this afternoon. He's old enough now I think I can start buying him some things he could build at home. Something like a model airplane or a car. Something that can be assembled, snapped together, you know what I mean. There is a HobbyTown not too far away. I'm going to take a break around
four-thirty, after the stock market closes, and do some shopping for his gift. Maybe I can check back in with you early this evening before I go home.”

“Oh, I'd like that. Will you try very hard to remember? Will you, please?”

“Count on it. I'll show you what I bought him when I come back.”

Scott lifted his hand toward the display screen and traced a line along Alicia's cheek with his index finger. He imagined he was touching her in a tender way. “Can you see what I did just then?”

“I think I know. You just tried to touch me, didn't you?”

“Yes. Crazy, I suppose. I'd better go now.”

“Okay, Scott.
I love you
.”

Scott didn't answer, not trusting himself. He logged off the website, and closed the lid on the computer.

Was he falling in love with this virtual person? No, he couldn't be. She wasn't real. He loved Rachel.

Maybe there was a virtual love? Something was happening.

He told himself again. No, he couldn't be falling in love with her.

Gray

T
hat night the dream came again.

I'm coming home from college for Thanksgiving holiday. The bus ride has been so long, and the bus is so crowded. Why do the strange people all sit by me? Why do they keep staring at me?

We're on the outskirts of town. I have a window seat and I use my sleeve to wipe something oily from the surface of the glass so I can see outside. This bus is going to pass my street on its way downtown. I wish the driver would stop and let me off. I see my house flash by as we pass the street. Why does it look so gray and empty?

We're downtown in the bus station. All the people are hollow. None of them sees me. I am waiting but no one comes for me
.

After a long time, a big taxi drives up to the bench inside the station where I am sitting. I know there's something wrong with the taxi being inside the building but I don't remember what it is. A gray man with empty eyes like cardboard sits in the driver's seat. He doesn't move or speak to me, but I know he wants me to get inside
.

The taxi takes me to my house. The closer we get, the grayer the world becomes. I ask what the fare is. In a hissing voice the driver
says, “Everything, till there's nothing left.” I'm afraid, and so I push on the door and fall out onto the gray grass, which crackles and snaps under my weight. When I look up again the taxi is gone
.

More of the gray people, the don't-matter people, are down at the end of the street all bunched up together. They know something, but they're just standing there, all staring at me
.

I'm afraid and I want to go into my house. I push on the door, which opens noiselessly. Why doesn't it make any sound? It should make a sound when it opens. I can hear voices inside, coming from my mother's room. “Cut it out. Leave me alone.” What voice is that? My mother's voice? What does she want me to cut out?

The scissors are there on the dining room table. Everything is gray, but the scissors shine and gleam, calling to me. It's hard to see anything else. I have them now. What needs to be cut out?

Uncle Tony is here and he is not gray enough. He should be gray like the other people. Mother is here too, pulling on his shoulder. She is not gray enough either. I can see her mouth moving, but I can't hear the words. Is she saying my name?

I know what to do. I must make Uncle Tony gray. It's not difficult. I just have to keep trying. I will fix everything. I will make both of them very gray. My hands move as if they knew just what they had to do. I watch the shining blades arc through the gloom, rising and falling in a grim rhythm. Pretty soon the other colors bleed out, and Uncle Tony and Mother are gray like they should be
.

I close my dreaming eyes. Everything is quiet again. Everyone has gone to sleep. The people down the street have all walked away, back into their dingy houses. No one can see me anymore
.

The taxi driver is back. “You're done now,” he tells me in his rasping voice. That's good. I walk out the front door into the twilight of the street. Everything is the same fleshless color, except for the sky. I see the bright points of stars overhead. They are so beautiful
.

Shopping

H
obbyTown was huge. When Circuit City had gone out of business the mall had lost its anchor store and for a time people thought the mall would languish and become a ruin. HobbyTown had moved in, taken over the old facility, and even expanded it. They had subsumed the furniture store on the east and now the storefront seemed as wide as a city block.

He walked through the large double doors and approached the cash register area. The signs in the back of the store were so far away, they blurred into intelligibility.

He walked up to the first cashier, a young woman about eighteen years old. “Can you help me out? Where in the store can I find model airplanes and cars?”

She directed him to an aisle way in the rear of the store. There were three aisles full of models and model paraphernalia. Paints, glues, and all sorts of kits. As Scott walked up and down the aisle the little boy in him came out again. All of the kits looked like they would be fun to build. There was a model of the old dirigible
Hindenburg
. How fun would that be?

But there was no way in the world little Scotty would
know anything about a dirigible. His world was all about cars, trucks, and horses. There were plenty of cars, planes, and trucks. The cars and trucks would be the best bet. The little guy could identify with those, mainly because he rode in them all the time.

Something caught his eye. No, it was
someone
. Who was that?

He stepped around the end of the aisle to try to see who the person had been. No one there. Odd, she'd looked familiar. But who had it been?

He found a model of the Scooby-Doo Mystery Machine. It looked just like the old-style bus the cartoon characters drove on television. Scotty would absolutely love it. It had all the flower decals and decorations the real Mystery Machine had on TV. The box proclaimed it had snap-in construction, eliminating the need to use glue, but it still needed to be painted. No problem. On the opposite side of the aisle were at least a hundred thumb-size bottles of paint in every color.

Yellow, lime green, light blue, red, and black. That would take care of the van body, the wheels, and all the trim. Besides, he could buy more if they needed it. He picked up a couple of brushes as well.

Did he need anything else? He should probably get something for Angela while he was in here. Half a store away, he found jewelry for little girls. Angela loved it when Rachel dressed her up in fancy things. She toddled all around, showing herself off. He found some colorful bracelets and a glow-in-the-dark necklace she could wear in her room when it was dark. Perfect.

As he turned toward the cashier station his eye caught the
oddly familiar figure again. Someone leaving the store, walking out through the double doors. So familiar! It looked just like . . . No.
Alicia?

Of course, that was impossible. There was no Alicia, not really. She couldn't have been here. Someone just looked like her. However, he was intrigued. Intrigued and scared.

No way. It's just the guilt talking
.

Scott paid as quickly as he could, then strode out into the parking lot. He stopped and looked around.

The woman who had just exited the store had to still be in sight. What a strange feeling, seeing someone who looked like Alicia in real life. Of course, he'd only had a fleeting glimpse of her. No doubt if he were to see her close up, the resemblance would fall apart very quickly. No doubt.

There was nothing to see, though, and after looking around for a few more minutes, he made his way to his car.

Still, he found himself haunted by the idea someone who looked that much like Alicia actually lived and was walking around town.

It was almost six o'clock. Even though he felt like he should go back to the office, he just didn't feel up to it. It had been a long day and the vision of the Alicia look-alike troubled him.

No, it wasn't Alicia, but it had left him feeling guilty. His place was with Rachel, with his own family.

He put the things he'd bought on the passenger seat and pointed the car toward home. He'd have supper with his family tonight.

The only Alicia he wanted to think about was the virtual one. The possibility of a real one was too frightening to consider.

•  •  •

THE PAIR OF EYES
that followed him as he walked back to his car pursued him as he left the parking lot. They didn't let go until he was completely out of sight.

She had never been so close to him before.

This was him. The hair, the body, the way he walked. The right age, born under the right sign. He looked just like the sketch she'd drawn when she was thirteen years old, before her world crumbled around her.
Him
.

The VirtualFriendMe system had flagged him as soon as he'd appeared. There would never be another.

I almost touched him tonight. I nearly let him see me. Too soon, too soon!

Melissa reached into her purse and pulled out her brush. She turned the rearview mirror toward herself and imagined herself through his eyes as she ran the brush through her shoulder-length, dark-brown hair. Then, remembering where she was, she rebuttoned the top button on her blouse, started the engine of her Audi, and began the drive home.

A tremble rippled down the skin of her arm. Melissa felt cold all over her upper body.

I will not let him go. He's mine now
.

Great Kids

D
an, I need to take a few days off for some personal business.” Melissa studied Dan Hammersmith, gauging his reaction to her request.

“I don't see any problem with that, Melissa. I can't remember the last time you took a day off. Bob Locarno can handle whatever needs to be done while you're gone. Take as much time as you need, but stay in touch, all right?”

Melissa had not expected any problem from Hammersmith. He had told her on numerous occasions she had saved the company, and his job, when she stepped in after the untimely death of Aaron Getz.

So far as anyone knew, Getz had been killed by an assailant or assailants unknown. That was all the police had ever been able to offer. A bad way to die, they'd said, and in a bad part of town.

Melissa had stepped in on the following Monday morning ready to take the reins. She worked through Getz's notes and code for an entire week almost without sleep. She kept Virtual
FriendMe solvent in a time when the company's major capital investors were ready to pull the plug.

VirtualFriendMe was a success and it was primarily because of her efforts. Dan would do anything to keep her happy, and she didn't ask much.

“I've already talked with Bob and he understands what's needed. Furthermore, I've asked some of our tech people to move my personal console to my house for a while, just until I come back. Whatever you need, I'll be able to take care of from home. It'll be just exactly the same as if I were here.”

Dan gave her a sly grin. “So you'll be like a virtual Melissa. You won't really be here, but it will be just the same. You're good, Melissa. Really, really good.”

She returned the grin. She appreciated the kind of treatment he had given her, and the company was treating her well. She had no complaints, but there was this
very personal
matter to attend to. Nothing could get in the way.

“The techs will have everything moved out this evening and set up in my home. I'll see you again probably in about a week or so, okay? I'll be in town most of the time and be linked up when I'm not. I'll keep everything covered.”

“Okay, thanks for the heads-up. You've got carte blanche. I'm off to meet with some investors.”

Hammersmith started to turn off down the hallway, then turned back to Melissa. “Am I missing something? Is there anything wrong?”

Could he be seeing something in her eyes, her actions that was giving her away? He couldn't possibly suspect anything.

“Nothing wrong. Just some personal affairs, like I said.”

“If you need anything . . .” He left the words hanging in the air, turned his palms upward.

“I know, Dan. I can call you.”

He turned again and headed off down the hallway, looking at some notes he had in a leather portfolio.