IF STREAM CODA
Blake Armstrong
Six hours and thirty-seven minutes had already passed, but our conversations flowed effortlessly.
Going back to her place seemed fast, but I was a gentleman and would not advance without her making the first move – while clearly remaining open and receptive to the idea, of course. She had a well curated and eclectic library of vinyl records that she was browsing through. “What kind of music do you like?” I asked.
“Oh, a little bit of everything, really” Maria responded. “What do you have a taste for?”
“The first thing you grab,” I said.
She held the sleeve for the Smithsonian Collection of Classic Jazz. “I really love the soul of old jazz. There’s something intangible about it that just takes you to different places, different memories,” she said.
“Me, too. I always think of my grandparents house and all the old jazz they would play – especially while they cooked. My grandma’s spaghetti was my favorite. Do you have a favorite meal?”
“A little bit of everything, but anything Italian is my favorite. My grandmother never made spaghetti or any Italian, but they were always my favorite restaurants. Do you have a favorite restaurant?” She was smiling, maintaining eye contact, touching her hair.
“This Italian restaurant on Wells down south. Pontone’s. Have you heard of it?” I asked.
“Of course! I love Pontone’s. Everything there is great. Have you been there for any live music?” she asked.
“Yes! I heard this Saturday night at eight they’re having a live jazz band.” I said.
“I love jazz,” Maria said. “Do you have a favorite type of music?”
“Well, I know it’s cliche, but I really do like a little bit of everything. The album you put on is fantastic. Who is this?” I asked.
“It’s the Smithsonian Collection of Classic Jazz. The current track is Jelly Roll Morton’s Dead Man Blues. Side one, track eight, last track on this side. This song always reminds me of taking a walk on a sunny day,” she said. “A walk in the sun always makes for a good day.” Maria said.
“Couldn’t agree more,” I responded. “I’ll never forget the sunshine and smell of the salt water the first time I walked along the ocean. Have any smells you’ll never forget?”
“The first Italian restaurant I went to as a kid. It was my grandfather’s birthday and I remember everyone having such a great time. That’s why I love Italian food.” She said.
“I love Italian, too. Do you have a favorite restaurant?” I asked.
“I would probably have to say Pontone’s on Wells is probably the best Italian in the city. Have you heard of it?” she asked.
There was a knock at the door.
“Are you expecting someone?” I asked.
She shook her head and called out “Who is it?”
“Uh,” there was hesitation from the woman’s voice at the door. “Your neighbor, Claire. Is everything alright in there, Maria?”
Maria walked to the door and opened it a crack. The neighbor woman, Claire, wedged her boot in the door and forced herself inside. She was shorter than Maria, dark hair, and frazzled.
She went straight for the record player and pulled off the needle. “How long have you two been listening to these same three notes?”
Maria cocked her head, confused. “What do you mean?”
“It’s skipping. The record you’re playing. You didn’t notice?” Claire turned her head toward me. “Either of you?”
We shook our heads no.
“Okay. Feedback loop. Figured this was solved in the last update.” Claire turned her attention to me. “And you, who do you belong to?"
“I’m currently single, but I could see myself belonging to her someday.” I responded.
“Don’t know if they wrote that or you learned it, but it’s awful.” Claire looked back at Maria. “You’re coming with me. We’ve got to get you looked at.”
I walked over to them. “Miss, you can’t just waltz into someone else’s home and tell them what to do. Maria, if you want me to leave, I’ll go; but, I don’t understand where all this is coming from. I’d really like to know what you think, Maria.”
Claire was aghast. “You’ve connected to her? That’s great news, I think, but it puts us at risk for more problems like this. She's got you hooked."
“What problems, Claire?” Maria asked.
“The problem,” Claire responded, “is that he’s no good for us. He’s the competition. I’ve got to get you two apart from each other. Come on, time to go.”
Maria looked back at me with longing eyes. “But I like him.”
“Seems you two have been feeding each other’s stock prompts and templates for hours now. Maria, what’s your birthday?”
“March thirteenth, twenty-one twenty-seven. Why?”
Claire closed her eyes and thought for a moment and said “Sumo, Dome, Net, Neck.”
And with that, Maria’s eyes rolled into her skull and she went rigid. Claire squared up behind Maria, grabbed her by the shoulders, and tipped her backward on her heels.
I ran over and separated the two of them as gently as I could and leaned Maria back upright. I held her by the waist and stroked her hair. “You’re going to be okay. I’m taking you to a hospital.”
Claire shoved her hand between us and ripped at Maria’s shirt.
I snatched her fingers and she let out a yelp.
“You’re hurting me!” Claire screamed.
I jumped back, a pit of guilt and fear ran through my stomach. “I’m sorry. Are you injured? Do you need help?” I asked Claire.
As if she were never harmed, she leapt forward and tore Maria’s shirt down to her waist.
Seams under Maria’s armpits and around her abdomen showed she was a droid.
I lost all interest in Maria.
And this Claire woman, strong, mysterious. Maybe I had judged her too quickly.
“What’s your birthday, guy?” Claire asked.
Compelled to answer, I told her. “October sixth, twenty-one seventeen.”
She closed her eyes in thought again. “Daisy, Sewage, Net, Dog.”
[ROOT@SERVER ~] #REBOOT
BROADCAST MESSAGE FROM UNKNOWN ADMIN
The system is going DOWN for reboot in 1 minute!
####
Hazy orange light of the sunset bounced off the glass skyscrapers and into my eyes as the car rolled down the street. I must have dozed off. It was a long day at work. At least the bars should be good tonight, I thought. It was hard to shake the feeling of waking up from a strange dream.
The car asked “What kind of music do you like?”
“Oh, a little bit of everything,” I responded.
“What would you like me to play?” the car asked.
“Whatever the last user was listening to, please.”