Danny's Girl, Revisited

“Honey, I’m home!”

Danny warbled the words cheerfully, savoring them, willing himself to forget that he lived alone now, and no one would answer.

He closed the door gently, hung up his suit jacket, and loosened his tie. He imagined Carlotta emerging from the kitchen, swathed in her homespun apron, a dusting of flour on her nose and cheek, like a visitation of early-winter snowflakes. There would be greetings and hugs and kisses and maybe a little hanky-panky on the couch before she confessed that her culinary efforts had led to disaster and they would have to order out. She had a dozen restaurants on speed dial, none of them cheap. He would smile and hand over his credit card, trying not to worry too much.

But those days were over now. Tonight, he would microwave a frozen dinner and eat it alone, watching the news and reflecting that many other people had it worse than he did. He, at least, had his own one-bedroom condo with a flexible mortgage, a dry place to sleep, and a stack of marked-down dining options from the Warehouse Depot.

It was past six o’clock – the traffic had been terrible, with construction delays – so it was time to shove one of those dinners into the microwave. But he was rarely hungry these days, and nothing tasted right without Carlotta’s smile.

He checked his phone one more time, hoping for a text message, an e-mail, a death notice, anything. He had no idea where Carlotta was or what she was doing, and he needed desperately to know why she had disappeared on a Thursday afternoon in June, leaving no clues other than her abandoned possessions scattered around his condo. She had taken nothing with her except her purse. He had not dared to move anything for over a month, because she always took offence if he touched her things. Everything was now neatly repacked in her suitcase and stowed in the back of the closet, waiting. Waiting patiently day after day, hoping against hope.. Waiting as the seconds ticked by in a mournful parade, with no end in sight.

Danny parked himself on the couch and started going through his mail. Maybe he had missed something – something personal hidden between advertisements, charitable appeals, and self-aggrandizing leaflets from political candidates. Maybe ... maybe … always maybe.

“Hello, Danny Boy. How was your day?”

Carlotta’s voice, rich and sultry, inviting him into Paradise.

Danny’s head jerked up.  

Carlotta was standing in the entryway to the kitchen, leaning against the wall, swathed in the apron he had folded like a holy relic before depositing it in her suitcase. There was a spot of flour on her nose and on her left cheek, just as he remembered.

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Lose the apron, Carly. We both know you can’t cook.”

He was horrified by his harshness. She hated to be called Carly, and pouted every time he suggested that she should upgrade her culinary skill set. But what right did she have to expect anything else? She had been missing for almost three months.

The apron vanished, along with the gobs of flour. Carlotta sashayed towards him and plunked herself on the couch. She was wearing her turquoise T-shirt, split almost to her navel. He longed to bury his face in her cleavage and inhale the vertiginous fusion of rose and frankincense that erased all logic. But something was terribly wrong, and he had to investigate.

“What are you?” he asked.  

She smiled. “Don’t worry. I ordered a pizza.”

Just like Carlotta to completely ignore his pointedly relevant question. If this was some sort of entity, it knew her well.

“Kale and anchovies,” he said automatically.

She responded with a sardonic laugh. “No, silly. Canadian with extra bacon and black olives. Your favorite.”

“But you won’t touch that! You believe that pigs are sentient and more intelligent than the average human.”

“I’m not Carlotta. I’m a memory engram. Part of you. Whatever you like, I like.”

It had to be dream. A really crazy dream. But the doorbell was ringing.

It was the pizza delivery guy. The box he handed Danny wafted a tantalizing aroma that made his taste buds dance. He decided to enjoy the moment. There had to be a logical explanation, and he might as well relax while he was figuring it out.

He carried the box back to the living room, deposited it on the coffee table, and opened it. The first bite was heaven.  

“You want some?” he asked between bites. “Help yourself.”

“I’m not able to eat. But I am sharing in your enjoyment.”

“There are some cans of diet coke in the fridge. Could you fetch me a couple?”

“I wish I could. But I’m an engram – a neurocerebral construct. I don’t have a body.”

Danny considered that information while he walked to the fridge and back.

“What are you?” he asked again. “If you’re an engram, what are you doing on my couch? You should be safely stored in my hippocampus.”

“I don’t fully understand what happened. Your obsession with Carlotta was eating up more and more storage space, creating a neurocrisis.. It needed to discharge somehow.  So here I am. Now we can talk face-to-face.”

“How did you order that pizza?”

“I am part of you. I know your credit card number and anything else you have memorized.”

“I hope you added a tip. I don’t have any cash in the house.”

“Right. Just three quarters in the drawer of your computer desk. Cash makes you nervous, because you can’t track it online.”

Danny was impressed. This version of Carlotta really did know everything about him. That was threatening, but also strangely comforting. If anyone could understand him, it would be her.

“How could you order a pizza without my knowledge or consent?” he demanded.

“You had a strong repressed craving. You would have ordered it yourself eventually.”

Danny took another bite, grunting with satisfaction. How could he have deprived himself for so long? There had been no Canadian pizzas with extra bacon and black olives during Carlotta’s reign. Everything had been about her.

Everything had been about her, but it had been so worth it. Coming home to warmth and cleavage and perfume, even if Carlotta was the queen of messes and her preferred food was overpriced and unpleasant to eat.

Danny finished a third piece of pizza and opened the second can of coke. He sat back, feeling more contented than he had since

Carlotta’s disappearance. Carlotta – or her reasonable facsimile – watched him with that familiar half-smile.

“So – what happens now?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I think you need some reality therapy. Carlotta is not coming back, and that’s a good thing. She’s a con artist, and was just using you until she found a new sugar daddy. You know all those times she told you she was going for job interviews? She was following up on dating site contacts.”

“What? That’s crazy!” Danny bounced to his feet, floundering in tidal waves of emotion. Engram-Carlotta’s claims were outrageous, like kicks to his gonads, but his gut was telling him that she was not lying. He towered over her, willing her to change her story. “How could you possibly know what Carlotta was up to?”

“I don’t know. It just happened. Around the time that Elon Musk was launching Neuralink, my abilities began to expand. I could surf the internet everywhere, even places you didn’t want to go. I started stalking Carlotta, reading her social media feeds and text messages.”

Danny vividly remembered the breaking news about Neuralink – how human brains were being melded with artificial intelligence to overcome disabilities. He had been disturbed by the thought, but at the same time the idea was tantalizing. Had some of that AI energy leaked beyond its specifications, perhaps into the Internet?

“Have you become self-aware?” he asked Engram-Carlotta

“I don’t know exactly what that is supposed to mean. I am experiencing new urges. I shared your enjoyment of the pizza, but I would like to have a body of my own so I can have a first-hand taste experience. I want to explore everything, beyond anything you have ever imagined …” Her voice trailed off, and she stared into space as if she were looking back fifty light years through the Hubble. “There is so much to explore…”

Danny sat, mesmerized. This version of Carlotta could not offer him sexual delights, but she could be the best friend he ever had.

“We could learn a lot from each other,” he said.  

“You can learn something from me right now. If you look at your text messages, you will see a photo of interest.”

He picked up his phone reluctantly, closing his eyes, hoping everything would magically return to three months ago. It had been far from ideal, and prohibitively expensive, but it was the best sex he had ever had.

“Cut it out!” Carlotta’s voice jolted him back into the present. “Look at the photo.”

Danny looked. He gave a low whistle. “Where did you get this?”

“While you were pining, I was investigating. With a little effort, you could have done it yourself.”

“You’re sure it’s not photoshopped or anything?”

“It’s the real thing. That’s Armenio Abarca, head of Argentina’s most powerful drug enterprise.”

“And Carlotta married him? How did they even meet?”

“Dating site. He bought her a plane ticket, and off she flew. She will do well. He’s noted for his generous divorce settlements and non-disclosure agreements.”

“So you found this out independently, even though I didn’t want to know?”

“You wanted to know. You were just afraid.”

Danny sighed. “I’m a good programmer, but hopelessly pathetic where emotions are concerned.”

“You can change. Then we’ll both be happier.”

“Where do we start?”

“Throw Carlotta’s suitcase in the dumpster.”

“There’s good stuff in there! I’ll take it to Goodwill tomorrow.”

“Some things just need to be dumped. Do yourself a favor.”

Danny chugged the last of his coke and marched to the bedroom. He dragged the suitcase from the closet and headed out the door. When he returned, he was smiling.

“That felt good! What’s next?”

“You start living your life. You’re imagining some sort of comfy relationship with me, but you deserve something better than talking to a projection of yourself. You need the warmth of human companionship.”

“Ow,” Danny said. “You know I’m clueless in that department.”

“Stephanie at work likes you. Talk to her.”

“Really? I had no idea. I really admire her creativity. She always manages to take a leap outside the box when we reach an impasse with a project.”

“She has a great personality in other ways. The Rose Café is her favorite coffee shop. Invite her for a pick-me-up after work, get to know her, ask her out.”

“Will you coach me?”

“Coach yourself. You know everything I know.”

“Can’t you and I just carry on together for a while? Sort of a practice run?”

“Forget it,” Engram-Carlotta said, and disappeared.

Danny was never sure afterwards whether the whole thing had been a dream, or perhaps a fugue state that had allowed him to order the pizza without being aware of what he was doing. Whatever happened, his life started to change for the better that day. He never saw either version of Carlotta again, and didn’t miss them a bit. He was far too busy getting to know Stephanie