Alive

It was a bar, but it more closely resembled a set from a science fiction movie or a Gothic castle: black velvet and polished heavy wood lit in lurid neon.

She sat in a booth, alone. The texture of the fabric made her conscious of the bare skin of her thighs and shoulder blades. She swiped on a phone screen and opened a messaging app. There were no messages. She smoothed her hands over her abdomen, compulsively.

The space was strange, a grotesque hybrid of Old World luxury and harsh modernity. One wall of the space had been ripped away and replaced with a wide mechanized door made of glass. Outside, sheets of rain were slashing down on and around it. There was a flash of light; a rumble.

She saw him coming and immediately sat straighter and glanced to one side.

Hi. Are you Eleanor?

She looked at him.

Yes. You’re Theo.

I am.

She seemed to express an apprehension or uncertainty by the stiffness of her body. He remained standing for a moment, perhaps trying to signal something that she didn’t understand.

He sat down then. He was a man in the middle of his twenties. He wore an unbuttoned shirt over a t-shirt, and jeans. His wrists looked delicate and white like porcelain. He had a nice face, open and friendly, and curious dark eyes.

Eleanor suddenly looked away from him, as though embarrassed of the attention she had given to his appearance. She was wearing a silver sheath of a dress. Her pale body absorbed and returned the blue light of the neon like an alien or ghost. She opened in front of her a small leather booklet which contained a list of drinks with mysterious names like: Tokyo in Spring, Ruby Transcendence, and Paper Dolls.

Do they really think a mixed drink consisting of five ingredients can capture the essence of an entire season and one of the oldest and most complex cities in the world? she said. Her tone of voice conveyed an unspecific disdain.

Hm, Theo said. Should we order two and see how embarrassingly short they fall?

Eleanor looked up from the menu. There was a small clear votive on the table. The wick was oily and unlit.

Okay, she said. She put the menu on the table and placed both hands below its polished surface. She scratched at the skin on her thumbs, as though to reassure herself that she could feel it.

I’ll go and order. Theo stood up and moved to the back of a crowd of people.

Eleanor closed her eyes and her chest expanded in a slow and controlled way. She seemed to hold the air in her lungs for longer than normal. She took a phone out of her purse and held the screen up in front of her face. The fluorescent neon light made her eyes appear an unnatural blue, like the eyes of a demonic spirit in a horror film. The face reflected in the little black rectangle was expressionless. She tried to smile. It shivered on her lips for an instant and then disintegrated.

A few minutes later Theo returned with two Collins glasses containing a stratified liquid and several cubes of ice.

What do you do? he asked. Eleanor started. She had been gazing at a couple nearby. They were laughing together.

You know what I do, you’ve read my profile, Eleanor answered. She looked at the glass, reached for it, brought it her mouth, swallowed.

Theo blinked, then said: yeah, yeah, you’re right. It’s software development, right? Like for a finance company?

She gave a sharp little exhale and her face assumed a superior sort of half-amused expression.

I’m a data analyst for a consulting company that specializes in market analytics and trends. I have a Ph.D. in statistical modeling. But yes, writing code and developing the models we use in the software package is part of what I do.

Oh, okay, very cool, Theo said. They fell into a silence.

Eleanor looked at his face, scrutinizing it like a vision test chart filled with meaningless characters that descended into smaller and smaller fonts.

Why did you match with me? she asked brusquely.

Theo’s eyebrows raised and he gave an astonished kind of laugh. Um, do you want my whole thought process, or-?

She gave one curt nod and blinked as she did.

Well, at first I thought you were- attractive- physically. I guess.

Eleanor made no response to this with her body or voice.

And, yeah I dunno, as I read your profile I thought you seemed very smart and- unusual.

Unusual how? Eleanor demanded.

Theo laughed uncomfortably. This is really what you want to talk about?

Another curt nod.

He let out a breath and began.

Your answers to the prompts were extremely deep and intellectually rigorous, he said. So much so that I thought you might be kind of joking, like you were making fun of the ridiculous idea that answers to those questions could reveal anything meaningful about the person.

Eleanor didn’t laugh. She seemed to absorb the information and catalog it somewhere in her mind for later dissection.

The conversation between them dissolved like organic matter in a bog. Theo attempted to engage Eleanor several times. She came across to him as insensitive and indifferent, and his patience waned. She seemed to sneer at things he said about himself, like how he was a grad student in ecology and enjoyed hiking and camping in the Appalachians. She didn’t offer much in response beyond the cursory answer when he asked her questions. He began to allow the silences between speaking to elapse longer. After a strained half hour, both had finished their drinks. Eleanor was staring, bored-looking, into hers, swirling the ice around with her finger.

Okay, well, Theo said. I have to get up early tomorrow. So. I think I’ll get going. He looked down at the table like he didn’t want to meet her eyes.

Eleanor looked up. She appeared shocked, as though this turn in the trajectory of their evening had not been obvious to her. Her pale lips were parted and her eyebrows knitted together.

Oh, she said.

There was a long beat of silence. It lay between them, growing larger and less wanted, like a deformed child. Neither of them looked at the other, not wanting to acknowledge the failed experiment or perhaps questioning who was at fault for the failure.

Finally, Theo glanced up, and with a pained sort of falseness said: thanks for doing this with me.

He could see misery sliding off Eleanor’s face like egg. He shifted towards the opening of the booth a few inches. Then he paused. I had a good time, he said.

You don’t have to say that, Eleanor responded in a glum voice. I know you didn’t.

They were silent again.

Well, I mean. You’ve been fairly hostile towards me over the course of the evening, he ventured.

Eleanor looked up at him, frowning. I wasn’t trying to be.

You weren’t?

She shook her head.

He continued to look at her uncertainly for a moment. His body was tense, hovering.

You didn’t seem very engaged in the conversation, he said.

I was concentrating on what you said. To remember it.

Actually?

She nodded, still staring at the table. Her white shoulders were hunched forward, protectively.

Well, okay. I guess if you want we could get another drink, Theo offered.

I don’t want to inflict any more suffering upon you, Eleanor said with a resigned flat voice.

Each in turn, the muscles of Theo’s body softened and he moved back to his place in front of her.

I don’t think it really reached the level of suffering, he said.

She avoided looking at him.

Uncomfortable, sure, he continued. I guess I just got the impression you didn’t like me very much.

Well I do. I like you a lot actually, Eleanor responded, again in the glum voice. She lifted a hand to her mouth and tore at a hangnail. 

But- he ventured, hesitant. It seems like you think I’m dumb.

I’m sorry. I don’t.

They sat.

I’m going to get another drink, Theo said. Do you want one?

Okay.

Same or something new?

Maybe you could get me a Corpse Reviver.

He gave a breathy laugh and she smiled in response.

***

And yeah, I dunno, he was saying. I thought your photos were interesting, like you almost never smile. And I kind of wondered why.

Oh, because I don’t like my face when I smile, Eleanor responded openly. They were leaning towards each other, resting parts of their bodies on the table, fresh drinks in hand.

Really?

Yes. It doesn’t look like other people’s faces look when they smile. If I’m smiling for a picture I look like a maniac.

He laughed.

I think you have an okay smile, he said. Although the two times I’ve seen it, it seems to be in response to a joke at my expense.

Eleanor smiled when he said this, a shy, closed-lip smile. She looked different then, soft and unsure. I’m sorry, she said. I’m very bad at stuff like this.

He tilted his head and looked curiously at her.

Stuff like what?

Eleanor gestured to the surroundings with a sweep of her arm. This. Meeting strangers. Making small talk. Dating in general.

Why do you think you’re bad at it? he asked. He picked up his glass and drank some of the alcohol serenely.

 As in what evidence do I have to support my conclusion that I’m bad at it? Or what were the ingredients that fused to produce a creature who repulses all humankind, like a white, blonde Frankenstein’s monster?

Theo laughed. It seemed genuine.

Wow, okay. You’re not a monster.

She smiled, barely, as though she were trying not to.

I was likening my abject loneliness and isolation to the monster’s failed quest for love and acceptance. I feel like there aren’t many people out there like me.

Theo paused and folded his arms over his chest. Sorry that you feel so lonely, he said. His gaze moved over her face.

Why do you think there’s no one else like you? he asked.

Because I’ve never had a relationship and I’ve been on thirty-four dates with thirty-four people in the last eight months.

Oh. His eyebrows rose.

Eleanor looked around at the table and swallowed. She picked up the glass which was cold and wet with condensation. Ice shifted towards her mouth all at once as she tipped the liquid down her throat.

Theo watched her with a sort of unsure fascination.

That seems like a lot of dates, he said.

 Well I need a lot of samples. I’m gathering data.

Seriously?

She nodded her head with her mouth pressed into a grimace that could have been ashamed or perhaps resigned.

I’m studying myself to try and figure out what I can do- better.

 That’s a noble endeavor. A scientific approach to dating. What’s your method?

 She gazed pensively at her drink. I’ve actually developed a regression model of my performance on dates, she said.

He gave a short, open laugh and smiled at her intentionally.

That sounds unbelievable but for some reason I believe you.

A black-clad server approached their table then and exchanged the unlit votive with a bright, flaming one. Theo thanked him with natural grace.

So what does the model say about you? Theo asked.

Well right now I’ve only gathered enough data to support three parameters: likability, thoughtfulness, and humor.

Where are you doing well?

Humor. I don’t know why though, I never try to be funny.

Okay, and where are you the worst?

Likability.

What goes into likability, per se? he asked while taking an absentminded drink of the cocktail. He was looking at Eleanor curiously.

When I offend someone, when I can tell at least, I record that as a negative, weighted by the severity of their reaction. I include how many times the person smiles, whether my date offers to get another drink. Uncomfortable lulls in the conversation, things like that.

Hm, okay, interesting. And what score would you give yourself for this date? he asked with a friendly expression.

Oh, I’ve done abominably. Negative… 17 with an uncertainty of two points.

Theo tossed back his head and laughed.

 Eleanor smiled.

I like how candid you are, he said to her. It’s like- weirdly impressive, even though you’re saying all these negative things about yourself.

Eleanor seemed to appreciate this compliment even as she tried to seem unaffected.

They were quiet for a moment and Eleanor sat straighter and smoothed her hands over her stomach.

So has your score improved since you created the model? Theo asked.

 Eleanor finished her drink slowly, took a cube of ice in her mouth and crunched it.

Um, not with any significance, no.

Hm.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t work, or won’t work, she said quickly. It’s likely to follow a log scale of improvement after an initial transient.

Theo nodded, picked up his glass and swirled the liquid around.

Have you ever considered that human interaction is outside the capability of mathematics to describe?

Eleanor blanched. No, not at all. Science can and will explain everything in the universe, including human behavior. It might take time for technology to develop to the level of complexity required for an accurate prediction and replication of human behavior, but it will.

Theo leaned back against the booth, his face alight with the challenge of discussion. Wasn’t that kind of the point of Frankenstein? That science couldn’t actually produce true humanity? That the soul was in the divine purview?

Yes, Eleanor said dismissively, but Mary Shelley was operating under a worldview that was still heavily constrained by religion.

Okay, but ignoring that, Theo continued. Let’s say that religion is really a means of defining the innate quality of humanity as something outside the laws of nature, something not shared by any other animals.

Ridiculous premise, but okay, Eleanor said.

So in that respect you could liken Shelley’s message to the idea that modern technology, robots or AI or whatever, can never truly recreate human nature.

Well, Eleanor responded archly, luckily I’m not trying to make myself a special someone to love, as such. I’m trying to make myself into someone worth loving.

Theo looked at her face like he trying to discern how much of her statement was sincere. She was impassive, touching the sharp point of the toothpick in her glass.

They spoke for a few minutes about the state of contemporary relationships and Theo shared a story of an exceptionally bad date he had been on two weeks prior. Eleanor laughed to the table and said: worse than this one? and Theo laughed too and said: yeah, this one has actually turned out quite nicely. Eleanor seemed uncomfortable but pleased.

So, he said after a moment of watching her shift around in her seat and pick at the skin on her thumbs. Do you want to get another drink here?

As opposed to what? Eleanor teased. Getting another drink ‘there’?

Sure, if you have alcohol at your place.

She swallowed and the smooth front of her throat convulsed slightly when she did.

Um. Are you inviting yourself over?

Yes.

To have sex?

Well, if you want, but we could also do other things.

Eleanor’s chest rose and fell shallowly.

O-okay, she said. She blinked twice in succession, and her face expressed excitement rather than apprehension. She started to shift out of the booth, then stopped and frowned at him.

You’re not just- feeling sorry for me- are you? She cast her gaze over his face.

No.

Okay.

In her apartment Eleanor stood uncertainly for a while, watching Theo stroll around the darkened living room. He turned, his hands were in his pockets. So, he said, do you want to open that bottle of wine? He gestured with his head towards a wine rack with a single bottle.

Or- we could just go to my bedroom, she said. She watched apprehensively for his reaction. 

Sure, Theo said. They went into bedroom and drew close together in the dark. Eleanor breathed in once and then kissed him. Theo moved his mouth with hers. He was warm; his skin, his mouth, his hands on her waist. When they stopped kissing Eleanor said: just so you know, I like sex.

Theo laughed a little. Okay. That’s good.

I’ve been told that sleeping with me is like sleeping with an animatronic doll without batteries. I guess because I don’t make noise or move that much. But I’ll say if I’m not enjoying it.

Okay, thanks for the heads up.

They undressed. They lay on the bed together and Eleanor’s hair glowed, cold and angelic. Theo stroked his hand over her stomach. He paused briefly when his fingertips encountered a new texture of skin. Eleanor spoke.

Those are scars from a surgery I had for my uterus. It was causing me pain.

Theo was breathing near to her face, holding himself on one elbow.

Oh, okay, he said politely. Is it gone?

The pain or my uterus? The answer is yes to both.

Oh. He paused, seemed to search unsuccessfully for words. Then without speaking, he resumed kissing and touching Eleanor’s body.

I don’t know if you’ll find this horribly rude, he said softly, stroking her bare arm. But I find you very attractive. I don’t want you to think that I’m saying that to reassure you or anything, I just wanted to say it.

Eleanor said thank you. They kissed.

I find you attractive too, she said, but that was probably obvious. He laughed. That’s okay, he said. I like compliments.

When he was inside her, Eleanor’s limbs seemed to act on their own desire, wrapping themselves around Theo’s back, holding him. Two breaths mingled, two hearts shuddered beneath two chests, two bodies met.