Chapter 9

Gentle electronic music emanating from Emily’s phone, sounding like the composition Gary played us woke us up.

“It’s like we’re giving up responsibility,” I commented.

“How’s that?” Emily asked, shutting off the alarm and reading her message.

“Very minor, but adults are supposed to set their own alarms.”

“Do you think that’s symbolic?”

“We are being led like ducklings to a vague destination.”

“Vague but intriguing.”

“True.”

“You want to get high before we go to class?”

“Sure,” I laughed.

She lit up first and I followed, each of us having a second toke which, as strong as the pot was, was plenty.

A most sensuous shared shower, Rice Krispies with bananas and strawberries, coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice, towels discarded after and dressed casually, we headed to class.

When they arrived, Amy looked cheerful while Gary appeared uncomfortable. Emily approached him, talking softly, “We’re friends, Gary, and sometime lovers, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiled.

Elegant solution.

Tex and Amira approached us upon their arrival. “Could we hang out after class?” Tex asked.

“Unfortunately we have plans tonight,” Emily told him. “And poor Joe here will need his nap. But we have all weekend. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he smiled.

“Sounds good,” said Amira.

“By any chance do you have...,” Tex started.

Emily chuckled and went into her purse, bringing out a small paper bag and giving it to Tex.

“Thanks,” he smiled, seeing the pot and one hitter inside and handing it to Amira, who, after her own inspection, shoved it into her purse.

“What have you been up to?” I asked.

“Museum hopping with some of the others,” Amira told us. “Actually had a tour of this place.”

“It’s what geniuses do,” Tex shrugged.

“Instead of getting stoned?” Emily asked.

“Bunch of stick in the muds,” Tex complained.

“We enjoyed being with them,” Amira disagreed. “No lack of intelligent conversations amongst geniuses.”

“There is that,” Emily chuckled. “Excuse me.”

Marie had arrived with Heinrich, the German, and she looked particularly pale and vulnerable. I noticed a slight smile when Emily approached her, most likely speaking French since Emily spoke it fluently. I spoke it as well, getting by when I stayed in Paris for a month, but read it better. Emily guided the woman to one of the farther back desks whose occupants wouldn’t arrive for a few minutes, and away from Heinrich.

“Me working alongside Thad with Amanda was Amanda’s idea, right?” Tex asked me.

“She was concerned...”

“I understand,” Tex muttered.

“But it makes sense, so...”

“Your wife is brilliant, you know that?”

“Of course,” I chuckled.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Tex smiled.

“Any idea what she will be strategizing about?” I asked.

“Thad and I have worked separately but I’m pretty sure it’s the same programming and possibly a competition which the old man is overseeing, though he’s never given us a report. Everything from the threat of an astral object, a small meteor sized thing to a large asteroid to attacks both foreign and domesticate on our bases or in space, with missiles shot at us in space or on earth or more larger scale attacks, usually on earth, to encountering aliens and attempting dialogue and, almost always, having to defend ourselves.”

“First, what do you mean bases?” I asked.

“There are other places besides the Colorado base which appear to be more adjuncts, the Outback for instance which is probably remnants of the old man’s original base, except for a small atoll in the South Pacific shown to be in full construction of a huge platform of some kind along with an operations center.”

“Interesting. Second, how vivid and imaginative are the aliens depicted? And are they a diverse lot or does there seem to be a single version of them?”

“They are diverse, and some remind me of past science fiction or speculation, like those grays with the big eyes and skinny bodies, while others are completely unique. One of the more unique ones make their appearance more often, and ... well ... they’re the stuff of nightmares. Everything from their spiky space ships to their spiky heads, like gorgons the way the spikes move about, but not in the least bit humanoid. More insectoid with tentacles and like a centipede body but more compact and a proboscis for a mouth, pointy on top with like a suction cup beneath it, and it vibrates when they talk. Fucking scary shit.”

“They’re the ones you encounter most?”

“And always beat us. Others are as tough, but like I said, those ugly motherfuckers tend to appear the most frequently.”

“Interesting.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity and understanding what Amanda will face.”

“Sure.”

Marie and Emily remained chatting until everyone arrived, and we did too, with me getting Amira to talk about her work, which nearly went over my head, but she communicated well and her excitement about it was visceral.

“She okay?” I asked Emily when she returned.

“Later,” Emily smiled complicatedly while Pat demanded focus.

“Today you will combine your houses,” Pat said. “Please put your earpieces in.”

“I’d like to say something,” Emily interrupted.

“Please do,” Pat nodded at her.

“Some of us, like Joe and me and like the twins most likely won’t have a problem compromising when necessary and being insistent when it’s something we feel is important. But others have less equitable relationships, one demands and the other accepts passively. Considering the uniqueness in dynamics in every relationship, in the levels of dominance and submission, situational sometimes and omnipresent in others, it should be clear that at times, and even in general in the sense of the arc of the relationship, its sustaining, the goal should be equitable, an equal partnership. Ultimately for a relationship to work each has to care for the other, listen to them and respect them. Again considering the uniqueness, that can look different, case by case. For instance there’s a cliché about dominant and submissive relationships that the submissive is really in charge because the dominant has to gauge his or her dominance according to the needs of the submissive in order to know not to go too far or not to go far enough. That can only happen via communication, the great equal sign.

“I’m sure it’s obvious why I bring this up now, especially with you geniuses, but nevertheless I’ll be explicit. What we are creating is a shared home, to be shared for a long time. It can’t all be dark paneled with game hanging from the wall or all pink and frilly unless of course you both share such aesthetics. Think neutral shared spaces with an occasional flourish pleasing to both of you but perhaps more preferred by one. The bedroom for instance could be a place for more feminine flourishes but only up to a point. Limitation makes squeezing in a private space problematic, an office furnished specifically for each of you with maybe a convertible couch or futon when you want to extend your alone time, but I think it would be best for both of your peace of minds to attempt it. Bottom line, you both need to communicate equitably, to respect the other’s vision and to synthesize it with your own as much as possible.”

“Exactly,” said Pat which made the majority of us laugh. “The reason for the ear piece is to manage the synthesis, to remind the more aggressive of you that you both have to live in this space together, and to encourage the passive to be heard.”

“Isn’t this presumptuous?” I asked. “Assuming that we’ll be mated for life, literally and from such a small sampling, when so many couples end up estranged from each other, divorced or just miserable?”

“Is it?” Pat asked.

“Isn’t it? It seems pretty arbitrary almost like arranged marriages.”

“Exactly.”

“You mean...”

“Algorithms,” said one of the twins.

“Including what you call the second generation?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Gary.

“First generation too,” said a twin. “More at the beta stage, but mostly successful.”

“We ironed things out,” the other twin added.

“So me and Amanda?”

“Algorithms,” said a twin.

“Like it was arranged?”

“Approved,” said a twin.

“Approved,” the other repeated.

“Encouraged,” said Emily.

“True,” I said. “But what about you two, John and Jim, you’re not mated.”

“Problems with our social matrix,” said one.

“Or lack thereof,” Tex smirked.

“Exactly,” said a twin.

“Fortunately we will be available to diversify the gene pool.”

“Part of the algorithm having us okay with that,” I guessed.

“Exactly,” said a twin, Pat’s programmers becoming obvious.

“Except for the nuances of the human brain,” I argued, “the complexities of emotion, unexpected triggers from unseen sources or a multiplicity of events, the reactivity of perception. Like attempting to digitize the analog mind, there can’t help being an absence of depth.”

“Are you insulting me?” Pat asked, tongue in cheek.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I laughed.

“That’s what you’re here for, professor,” said Amy. “Head shrinking.”

“I suppose I am,” I shrugged. “I just hope you geniuses are willing to accept my help when it’s needed.”

I heard a snort and figured who it was, the person who had me worried how predictive these algorithms actually were, the German.

“Anything else?” Pat asked. “Remember you have all day today and tomorrow to work on this, and since this is for keeps, please take it seriously.”

“Uhm,” I heard Emily say.

“Amanda?”

“First, would this be like a test where if we finish early...?”

“I would like you to be available to possibly assist others. Your second question?”

“Will our designs be permanent?”

“The walls yes, because of their need to be secure. Furnishings are limited because of resources. Smaller things like wall hangings or knickknacks can of course be changed, but you should expect permanence in furniture since the priority for renewable growth would be foodstuffs.”

“What about fabric?”

“It’s vulnerability to time requires us to stock a substantial supply. Wool will be renewable as will leather, but a much more limited amount. And one can be creative with plant fiber.”

“True,” Emily chuckled.

“Anything else? Please begin.”

The noise around us made me wonder why this wasn’t done privately somehow until things got louder between two of them, the African and the Persian, and Pat called us, both Emily and me, to go help, Emily as strategist and me as psychologist. It happened several times, these eruptions, with Marie and Heinrich not surprisingly taking the longest time to fix and the fix didn’t take and we visited with them twice more.

Meanwhile maybe an hour in the twins announced that they had finished and Pat let them go.

Truth be told Emily and I probably wouldn’t have needed much longer, but we decided to play with it, essentially taking our time to complete it. Our outsides were different, only similar in their modesty. Hers was basically a modest summer cabin sitting beside a lake, something her family actually had living in Minnesota. She liked the ancient look of my home and I liked her setting. It would be an incongruous juxtaposition, but that didn’t matter. She liked the trees and we decided to make them a mix of maples and conifers. But she wanted a lawn, “Something our kids can play in,” she insisted, for which I agreed. The garden, including the statue/fountain and reflecting pool she loved, adding more varieties of flowers to it.

The interior became mostly her purview, reducing my desire for larger spaces in the living room and master bedroom out of necessity. The bed for instance became a queen size out of necessity. Placement was the same, the master bedroom, closet space, bathroom, kids’ room and one study. The second study, and a third because it would eventually become a play room, then a kids study combined with a separate room for one of the kids became added along the back wall.

I insisted on the salon or music room and we managed to coax it into the back corner. “Do you even play an instrument?” she smirked.

“A few but not well,” I chuckled. “But we’ll have plenty of time to practice.”

“True,” she laughed.

She liked the idea of having the back wall be a giant monitor showing space beyond it, visible in the rooms along that wall instead of just being the back of the living room.

She also preferred my kitchen over hers, probably because I had kept it minimal to give the living room the most room. She liked the window in the kitchen over the sink, something which I hadn’t changed from the Bauhaus version, even keeping it red and unadorned, explaining, “We could use the touch of futurism to be honest with our situation,” and, “No need to filter it out: it won’t be where we’re sleeping and red is always an enhancing color.”