by M Arbon
Programming
M. Arbon
Thirteen Flowers Press
Programming
Lewis picked Cam up in the Personal Services annex of The Mercantile.
"Hey," he said. "I'm Lewis."
The young man stood and smiled. "Cam." Their screens, Lewis knew, were running an interchange right now. He was about to thumb his on to check, but Cam put out his hand as though this were a social meeting, and Lewis shook it out of uncomfortable reflex.
He'd had some difficulty with the specs. The number and exoticism of the choices had been discomfiting, and so he'd settled on the comfortable middle range for most of them. Medium tan skin, dark hair, brown eyes; jaw and cheekbones moulded to give a plausible hint of all kinds of mixed ancestry. Reasonably good-looking, but not stunning. Haircut fashionable but not outré, a soft angle falling to a point over one eye. Clothing mutedly stylish. Smile welcoming but not forceful. A name that could have been short for something in a dozen languages. Confident, but non-intimidating.
"So," Lewis said, "I thought we could pick up some dinner." It wasn't as if he didn't know these things.
"Yeah, that sounds good."
Lewis took him to a ramen place he enjoyed but didn't go to often because they didn't deliver and he hated going into restaurants to pick up. As they ate, Cam talked to him as though they were old friends reuniting, asking questions about Lewis's job and his experiences in the city, salting in references to serial releases and odd events in the news. Lewis had been wondering if conversation with a hybrid might be a little uncanny, the illusion of an independent personality wavering under too close an observation. But the only strange thing he noticed was that Cam quoted two paragraphs more or less verbatim from a Glass Shelf review of the most recent Long Galaxy's Journey (season sixteen, episode eight, and in Lewis's opinion, that had been ridiculously out of character for Shoshanna, and the serial had been showing its age since Temperance Jasmine had been brought on as showrunner). That wasn't really that weird. Lewis had probably done something similar himself.
Out on the sidewalk, with the crisp breeze smacking the backs of their necks and neon sputtering above their heads, Lewis said, "So, do you want to see my place?"
Cam smiled. "Yes, I would very much like to see your place."
They took the bullet three stops out to Lewis's neighbourhood. It wasn't really that far, and it would have been a romantic walk if that was what they'd actually been into, but he was getting anxious about the whole thing and he was kind of ready to get on with it.
It was only the second bunk Lewis had lived in since the end of his senior training. He could have afforded bigger now, but he liked the gentle shabbiness of the area and the proximity to the bullet, and the super was a hardcore serials fan and kept the net hardware better up to date than some businesses Lewis had worked for. He didn't own a lot of things, and with all the built-ins, when the solar shutters were open the room looked deceptively spacious.
"Please make yourself comfortable," he told Cam, waving a hand towards the couch that faced the white wall he used as a viewscreen. "I'll be right back."
In the tiny bathroom, he stood in front of the sink and pulled his screen from his pocket.
He'd set the priming in motion before dinner, and now the module was ready to go, almost quivering with tension, like a slingshot pulled back to its furthest extent and held there. He set the screen on the strip of counter space beside the sink and triggered the three-space projection--it was mostly about aim now, and he needed all the real estate he could get.
There it was, the pink cube. Lewis put his finger over the golden lozenge of the module, lined them up, sighted one last time, and rammed them together.
Pink flared and sparked. Molten gold flowed over it. They swirled together, flashing. An asterisk the colour of sunset skittered away towards the corner of the projection. A golden arm swung out like a roundhouse punch, embraced it, reeled it in.
"Lewis?" said Cam from the other side of the door.
The pink cube twisted and reformed, now with a sequin of gold decorating one side, pulsing. Lewis locked it down hard, and pulled away.
He realized that he was short of breath, and sweating. He shut the projection down and put his screen back into his pocket. He washed his hands and splashed cold water over his face.
When he opened the door, Cam was standing, arms folded, against the opposite wall.
"Did you just hack me?" Cam asked.
"Yes. Sorry."
"Hmm. Thought so." His expression was mild. "Successfully, too. It's been a long time since that's happened. Just out of curiosity, what did you use?"
There was no reason not to tell him. "Stage Three Becker module with a modified grappling hook."
"There's no such thing as a Stage Three Becker."
"There is now."
"Huh." Cam's expression went inward. "And a Gordian lock too. Nice. Very elegant."
Unaccountably flattered, Lewis said, "Not many people would recognize that."
"I have a professional interest."
There was an awkward silence.
"I really am sorry," Lewis said.
"I've noticed that people like to say that after they've already decided to do whatever it is. You know this is totally unnecessary," Cam said. "I myself am not rated for all activities, but whatever you are looking for, The Mercantile can supply it. There's no need to be embarrassed. Trust me, we've heard it all. Positions, body modifications, fetishes, fantasies--"
"You should probably look closer," Lewis said.
Cam focussed inward again.
"I might be a little offended," he announced.
"It's nothing personal."
"You know, people who want to not have sex generally manage that all by themselves."
Lewis sighed. "I guess I owe you an explanation. You're not going to tell anyone about it, anyway."
"I'm not going to tell anyone about it, anyway," Cam agreed, and then frowned and shook his head as if trying to get water out of his ears.
"They're hiring an analyst at Air Lily. I want that job. I was born for that job. But after all that drama in the writers' room in season thirty-two, they're demanding a Social score of at least sixty, and my Social score averages forty on a good week. A steady Boyfriend Experience record will bring me up to sixty-five."
Cam was nodding. "The problem being...?"
"I'm not interested in the full...experience."
"Have you considered applying for an Asexual Exemption?"
"I'm not asexual. And if I do that and end up sexually coupled someday without withdrawing it beforehand, there's a risk they'll flag me as inconsistent, and have you ever tried filing an appeal at Grimes & Landry? I do not need that kind of hassle."
Cam whistled. "Your ratings agency is Grimes & Landry? No offense, but you don't seem to be in that pay grade."
"Graduation present from my grandma. She was a traditionalist."
"Nice. Anyway, you'd get a higher score dating an actual human, maybe even without sex."
"Sure, but then I'd have to date an actual human." Lewis sighed. "Look, I'm profoundly introverted, and I'm shy, and and I'm kind of antisocial. And you know what? In a work environment, I'm fine. The ratings system is a deeply flawed model that is biased towards extroverts with monogamous but adventurous sex lives who remember people's birthdays and keep in touch with their best friends from high school and teared up when Mee-Kyong gave up her baby in the third season of I Am Sunset. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. All they want is a specific number, and I'm giving it to them. Don't you think it's ridiculous that I have to have a prescribed social and sex life to qualify for a job?"
Cam titled his head. "I understand what you mean, intellectually, but it's a little hard fo
r me to wrap my head around the problem. Having a social and sex life is my job."
"Oh. Right." Lewis considered him. "Are you really okay with that?"
"Of course. It's literally what I was made for. I'm programmed to enjoy it. I'm actually considerably disappointed that I'm not getting laid right now."
Lewis bit back another apology. He perched on the far end of the couch, and checked his screen for the time. There were still another few hours left on the appointment. He'd wanted to not have to rush things, but he hadn't considered what it would be like to have another person in his bunk all evening. "Do you, uh, do you follow any serials?"
"Oh, sure. All of them."
"All of them?" Lewis could only keep track of about twenty, and it was only that many because he'd finally unsubscribed from all the Lemon Street side stories. "That's not possible."
"It is when you can suck down fifty at once through a direct feed."
Lewis felt a pang of envy. "I have some to catch up on."
Cam curled himself up on the other end of the couch. "Fire away."
Lewis called up the next Air Lily in his queue and projected it onto the wall. They watched the Previously On segment in silence. As Lewis fast-forwarded through the floral fireworks of the credits, Cam said, "So I can't initiate sex with you, and when asked explicitly or implicitly I have to state that our relationship has a sexual component, and I can't tell anyone I've been hacked. Does it do anything else, this thing you've stuck into me?"
"That's about it."
"Hmm." Cam scratched the top of his head. "It really is fine work. I can't get purchase at all."
"Thanks," Lewis said, and then wondered whether that was tactless.
Da'quan and Beth were sheltering behind a bulkhead, out of breath, while the disembodied consciousness of Third Scientist Quinn Dala glided down the corridor towards them, when Cam said, "So what would you like me to put in my report?"
"This is the client session report mentioned in the contract, right?" It was the reason he had had to build the module in the first place.
"I like a man who reads things before he signs them. That's the one."
"Do you have to do it?"
"It is part of my programming."
Lewis paused the screen. "We went to dinner. Then we came back to my place and, you know." He started the show again.
"Engaged in the sexual component of our relationship. Of course. But what kind of sex?"
"The usual, I guess."
"What's your usual?"
Lewis paused the screen again. "Do they really need the details?"
"As an industry leader, The Mercantile is committed to continuous improvement by way of algorithms based on customer experience and feedback. Reports may also be requested by your ratings agency under conditions laid out under the Personal Services Act, Revised Statutes, 2103, Chapter 34, Sections 69-73 (Third Supplement). I can quote the relevant regulations in full if you wish."
"No, that's fine. Can't you just make something up?"
"I'm going to have to, obviously. But I need something to work with," Cam said.
Lewis scrubbed at his forehead. "Okay, what do you need to know?"
"What do we do, exactly? Do I suck you off? Do you suck me? Or is it necking and handjobs on the couch? Do we fuck? If so, do I f--"
"Um, okay, the first one, I guess?" Lewis scrunched his legs up onto the couch and focussed on the motionless screen.
"Blowjob it is. A classic choice. Do you reciprocate?"
"I guess I should."
"Well done. The desire to satisfy a partner ups your score," Cam informed him. "How do we do it?"
Lewis waved his hand vaguely. "Didn't we just decide that?"
"Do we stumble towards your bed, sliding our hands under each other's clothing, me licking a hot line down your neck until you're naked beneath me in your bed and you dig your hands into my hair and make me moan? Do I slide off this couch and kneel between your legs, you canting your hips forward helplessly as I slide my thumbs up the inside of your thighs and along the--"
"Either of those is fine," Lewis said grimly.
He could feel Cam looking at him. "I think you'd like me on my knees," Cam said.
Lewis wrapped his arms around his bent legs and started up the episode again. Getting the Becker module right had taken most of his spare time these last few weeks, and he was under deadline at his current job and had worked most of the weekend, and he was eight hours behind on Air Lily alone, not to mention that at the job interview he'd be expected to display a thorough knowledge of the industry. He didn't have the time or the energy for this kind of distraction.
During the credits at the end of the next episode, Cam announced, "I've finished my report. Would you like me to read it to you?"
"No," Lewis said.
"It's up to you. Reports can be accessed at any time by using your customer ID and password at The Mercantile's net node, where you will find a wide variety of quality enhancements for your chosen lifestyle." He pushed off from the couch. "You have seven minutes left in our session to usher me to the door. I suppose you won't reconsider this whole hacking thing?"
"Sorry," Lewis said, for possibly the tenth time that evening.
"Ah, well. If anything changes before our next appointment, let me know. Same time, same place?"
"I'll pick you up," Lewis said, and out of courtesy waited in his doorway until Cam was at the end of the hallway before he slid his door closed.
On their next meeting they had conveyor belt sushi, something that Lewis had always found secretly fascinating. He always chose the same thing, of course, but there was something deeply satisfying about knowing that if he ever wanted spicy mock tuna or onion tempura, it was right there within reach.
When they got back to his bunk, he pulled out his screen and studied the Air Lily wiki while Cam sat on the couch with his legs folded and stared into space.
"Would you like to hear this week's report?" Cam asked after a time.
"No."
"We made it to the bed this time."
"Really, no."
"You make a beautiful sound in the back of your throat when you come."
Lewis frowned at him. "You shouldn't be able to do that."
"Make you come?"
Lewis flushed. "Say things like that."
Cam raised an eyebrow. "I can't touch you. There's nothing in your little golden stickpin that prevents me from talking."
"That was an oversight," Lewis muttered.
"We all make mistakes." Cam stretched his legs out. "Would you like me to quiz you?"
"Would you mind?" asked Lewis, surprised.
Cam shrugged. "You're paying for my time. I'd rather be doing something else with you, but such is life."
Lewis extended his screen over the empty space between them.
"That's fine, I've got it."
Lewis wrinkled his forehead at the absence of a screen in Cam's hands.
"Lewis," Cam said patiently, "my brain is actually a part of the net."
"Oh. Right."
Cam crossed his right ankle over his left thigh and slouched down against the back of the couch. "What are the class and designation of the Air Lily?"
Lewis rattled them off.
"What is the current captain's full legal name and preferred forms of address?"
"John Sarah McGillivray El Amin Watkins, Captain Watkins when on duty, John Sarah to their friends. Could you please go past the introductory page?"
"What is the chemical formulation of the antidote to the subcutaneous worm plague suffered by the away team in season four, episode eleven?"
Lewis glared at him.
"All right, I'll be serious. Name, in order, all the ways Third Scientist Quinn Dala has died and been brought back to life or reasonable facsimile thereof."
They worked for half an hour or so, Lewis swinging between relief and panic at how much he knew and how much he had still to memorize.
"Do you think Chief Petty Offi
cer Da'quan likes to take it in the ass?"
Lewis choked.
"I mean, there's got to be some plausible reason that that torch he's carrying for Second Lieutenant Cooper hasn't gotten heavy after all this time," Cam said. "I'm betting she's got a sparkly turquoise strap-on hidden under her mattress's military corners."
The job, Lewis reminded himself. I'm doing this for the job.
A few weeks later, they went to see a special screening of the tenth anniversary episode of Here Be the Mountain at the Imperial. Lewis had seen it when it had been released, of course, but there was something about watching it on the large screen with a group of like-minded people that he found surprisingly engaging. It had never seemed worth the effort to go by himself. He might even do it again sometime.
In the impromptu party outside the theatre afterwards, a melee of fans sipping food truck cocktails and taking pictures of one another in costume, someone called Lewis's name. It was Thurian, one of the programmers he worked with, wearing a T-shirt with Here Be the Mountain's logo and the words Hands off, Bihai's mine.
"Lewis! If I'd known you were going, we could have all come together. Randy and Charlene are here too," she said. "Oh, but are you on a date?"
"This is Cam," Lewis said, surrendering to the inevitable.
Cam held out his hand to shake hers. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I totally share your opinion about Bihai, by the way. Also, there is a sexual component to Lewis's and my relationship."
Thurian blinked, and laughed. "Right on, Lewis. I wish I had someone to say that about."
"See you tomorrow, we're really on our way home," Lewis said, scarlet, and pushed Cam in the direction of the bullet station.
"What the hell?" he demanded when they were away from the crowd.
"I didn't say that."
"You just did!"
"It was your programming," Cam said, looking rattled.
"You weren't supposed to just blurt it out like that!"
"Then maybe you should have written a bit of flexibility into that spec. I have access to the entire literary history of the human race, classic romances and love letters and erotic poetry and slash, and that's what comes out of my mouth?"