For Nothing

“Cal. Listen to me. I have to give it to you.” I furrowed my brow, “The locket Cal.”

“Oh.” I nodded.

“Give me something, Cal, anything before I have to give it up. Please Cal. I love you so much. Looking at you drives me insane because I know there’s someone in there that I can love. The memories of our childhood, before the logic pilot. I remember Cal. We were best friends!”

“Friends?” She grabbed me head in between both hands and stared up into my eyes. A deep glow resonated from somewhere behind them. I could almost hear her mind working within her skull.

“Cal. Love me back before I have to give it up. I know you can Cal.”

“Gemma, this hardly seems appropriate.” She got on her tiptoes and put her lips to mine, only lasting a second before I peeled her away. I stared, head tilted. She raised her eyebrows. “Hardly appropriate, Gemma.”

***

‘Tis my day to receive emotion. The pedagogy had educated us of the experience, its horrid nature, a sort of ceremonious tradition. The passing of the heart locket was meant to act in conjunction with our logic pilot. The wise had found, long ago, that the heretical endeavor for emotion cannot be curbed by simple implants. But the logic pilot and a dose of true emotion will deter even the most resilient.

I’ve no desire for the locket, for no curiosity of emotion ever struck me. As an animal of habit, I wish no interruption, but no individual avoids this one. I learned of my reception the day before last. A childhood acquaintance, Gemma, has the locket now and told me I’d be her recipient. The behavior of those in possession of the locket I cannot describe. They act...randomly, illogically. Gemma proved no exception, although I thought she would’ve. For even in society devoid of emotion, all considered Gemma a serious one.

As her week with the locket wound down, her behavior grew more erratic. It began with coy smiles, glances, things clearly intended to gain my attention.

“What?” I’d ask her, looking away from my work. But her attention shifted quickly away, face burning. She started giggling at things I’d say, touching my shoulders, hands, chest without excuse or permission, these changes all in the first day of her possession. I inquired with a grand pedagogue that night.

“Worry not,” he spoke. “‘Tis all normal reaction.”

As the days progressed, somatosensation urges faded and she began staring intently at me. I avoided the gaze but when I occasionally met it she’d upcurl the edges of her mouth slowly, her eyes taking on that of a child’s before their logic pilot implant. And then came the pleading.

I stood at the counter sipping my caffeinated milk, thinking out a solution to the structural deterioration of an apartment building. She shook me around to face her, agitated.

“Gemma?” I dipped my head.

Her eyebrows dropped slowly as her bottom lip began to vibrate and then shake. Her breathing became irregular, labored almost, and liquid flowed from her eyes. “Goddammit, Cal.” She started pounding on my chest. “Goddammit! I love you. Please understand. Please understand.”

***

I now wait for the transition. She enters the room holding the small heart locket in her hand.

“Your eyes, Gemma. Are you sick?” Her eyes resemble red bouncy balls in their sockets and the face surrounding them like it had been exposed to an allergen. She sniffs.

“No, Cal.” Her lip quivers. “I have to explain the rules to you.”

I nod once.

“When I transfer this locket to you, you will experience all emotion. The locket will be in your possession for one week. Within that week you will fall in love, that is guaranteed. The individual with which you fall in love is the individual who you will pass the locket on to. In the event that that individual has had the locket already, they may refuse and choose a random who’s not had it yet.”

“I understand.”

She puts her hand to my face, “I love you so much, Cal. I don’t want to give this up. I want to share it with you. But as soon as I give it up, it’s yours.” She fought sobs. “Bend down, Cal”.

I bend to her level. She quickly embraces me and plants her lips on mine yet again, transferring the locket over our heads. Without thinking I wrap my arms around her body, my fingers running up the coarse cotton that hid the firm body underneath. She peels me away.

“Cal. That was hardly appropriate.”

“What?” I feel my breath leave my body.

I grab her shoulders, thin, fragile, like a noble of old. The command she holds over her body and the room brings back memories of the exploring we did as children. She furrows her brow as I get lost in her sapphire irises, the pale freckles dotting her nose, and the silky fire that cascades over her shoulders to her breast. I stand dumbfounded.

She stares back, empty. “Do you feel alright, Cal?”

As she turns and exits the room, I look down to the locket. I’d seen it before, but not. I’d been blind. Like a pianist, holding his hands above the keys before the opening note, I’d been in a state of permanent suspense without even knowing it. But now those notes play. The golden charm dances around my corneas to the rhythm of the music of life, its cold metal singeing my neurons for the first time, the electrical stimulation too much to handle.

I put my hand to my own heart, understanding the humble thump I’d seen end in so many others. My fingers go to my lips, the wet of the kiss just given remains. I raise my head to the door she’d just exited. I understand. I only have a week. I’ll be all alone. And after, nothing, yet again. My knees shake and I fall to my hands. I weep.