MILLY

The gym locker room smelled strongly of lemons, now a nauseating reminder to Adam of the beginning of his workday, and the hallways of the server rooms, and nearly every surface found on the interior of any building. Surely, the odor was selected by Mother (“Mother-in-law,” MIL or Milly as his fellow architects jokingly referred to it), based upon some enormous compilation of user preferences, with lemon scoring the least offensive to the most people. Adam made a mental note to ask Priya if she knew, then immediately dismissed the thought. He stood up from the hard, blue plastic bench and the familiar but always irritating sensation of sudden soreness rolled through his legs. Generally, he opted for a simulated recreation of some of his memories of Priya or a VR lecture while the workout was going on, but the prices had skyrocketed as of late, so he had to choose blackout if he and Priya were to put together enough money for their honeymoon, an event delayed a full two years at this point.

To his right, he could make out who he thought was Matthew in the shower, now in the final stage of the scrubbing cycle. New suds sprung only from the tops of his feet and ankles. His excessively hairy backside winked at Adam through the steam. He cringed softly and walked through mouth of the locker room, into the gym where the impassive faces of his peers beaded with sweat. He imagined his hands gripping the handles of the machine with the swingy arms that met in front of one’s chest and the bars of the seated machine whose pedals whirred beneath you going nowhere. The digital clock above the approaching exit snapped to 8:55 and everyone stopped exercising, stretched briefly, inhaled through their nose and exhaled through their mouth five times and rotated to the next machine in the routine. On cue, the last person on the conveyor belt of exertion hit the showers and someone fresh and dry emerged from the locker room to take their place at the beginning, an attractive woman this time, someone Adam did not recognize. He continued walking toward the exit, his neck craning to a severe angle, squinting in the low light to make out her features before he collided with the smoked glass door. He cursed and swung the door open angrily. The dazzlingly bright fluorescents in the hall momentarily blinded him, as usual, and he tried to sear the silhouette of the woman into his memory as he headed down the endless corridor of white tile toward the new wing of server rooms.

Upon arrival, Adam smiled weakly at Jim, Gwen and Marshall who were enjoying their allotted coffee and leisure time in the tiny breakroom abutting the empty shelving of the new wing. As Adam poured himself a mug, the groan of a steel chair on tile, Marshall’s chair, sounded behind, and he took his seat as Marshall went off to work. The steel was still a touch warm. A few dying chuckles escaped Jim, a remnant of some amusing remark of Marshall’s and he said something unintelligible to Gwen. The threesome at the table now was always the worst part of the day for Adam. Gwen was too quiet, and he hated Jim, a balding, smug twenty-something who reeked of lemon- even his breath- and who always asked the same questions.

“How’s Priya?” Jim asked.

He should never have shared that he was engaged.

“Still in blackout,” Adam said.

Jim nodded solemnly, “You know when she’s getting out?” Jim asked.

“Nope,” Adam said. Adam hoped his frigid reply would cow Jim into silence. He was tired of thinking about her, and tired of seeing her walk into their apartment silently at six, eating silently, and sleeping silently, except for the occasional unconscious murmur, for exactly 7.5 hours before rising for work and repeating. He did not bother trying to speak to her anymore; Mother could replicate the pleasantries of small talk, but her vacant eyes held his for too long when he spoke and darted away too quickly when the “conversation” ended. Jim turned to Gwen.

“Anyway, the new chick, give her my room code if you ever bump into her, eh?”

Gwen was unmoved. Jim gulped down the rest of his coffee. A few veins of brown seeped from the corners of his mouth, he exhaled loudly, with excessive satisfaction, and he patted Adam on the back as he walked off toward the empty shelves. Matthew entered and sat, foregoing coffee for water, as always, and nodded to the two. It was quiet for a few minutes and Adam bounced his knee while he sipped the weak brew, his eyes scanning Matthew every so often. He then leaned in to begin where they had left off yesterday.

“So, you really don’t remember anything from your blackout?” Adam asked. Matthew was a slightly older man who had done an impressive ten-year blackout. He and his wife had done it simultaneously to ensure the other was not lonely and now had a sizable chunk of change saved for their retirement. Adam noticed how calloused Matthew’s hands were, and a plain, but clearly expensive gold locket around his neck. He thought he could make out two mounds forming the top of a heart tenting through Matthew’s tee.

“I really don’t,” Matthew said.

“Not even the tiniest memory?” Adam asked.

“No,” Matthew said.

Adam felt a little relieved and recalled the many times he had antagonized or spoken sweetly to Priya, trying to goad a response from her that felt familiar. He knew what a blackout felt like, almost everyone took one or two a day; that slight warmth near the back of one’s head before almost instant nothingness, followed by an equally instant waking up, having completed what was being blacked out. Despite having done it thousands of times, he was unsure.

“So, what did you do?” Adam asked.

Matthew looked bored, “Whatever Milly said, I guess,” Matthew said.

“I thought you said you did some wire running contract,” Adam said.

Matthew turned his palms upward and frowned, “Then why are you asking, Adam? That’s what I signed up for, so I guess that’s what I did,” Matthew said.

“You didn’t get anything more detailed than that?” Adam asked.

Matthew leaned back in his seat, the corners of his lips pulled down and his eyebrows raised. 9:10 blinked on the clock over the coffee maker and Gwen got up. She walked in the direction Jim went. Julie, Matthew’s wife, replaced her. Priya was also on a wire running contract. She had started over a year ago and still had at least a year and a half left.

“And it was over just like that?” Adam asked.

“Just like that,” Julie replied, smiling. She sat down and took Matthew’s hand. It made sense to him; better to just give up the time and have it be instant than fill it all with media. The cost of all the entertainment would almost outweigh the bonus wages you would earn from accepting a blackout contract and if you had someone waiting… Adam remembered the night Priya accepted the contract. She was to start the next day, and they had argued about why he declined to go with her. They needed the money, but he was uneasy about going under that long. He pulled out last second. They went to bed angry and woke up angry. Over breakfast she had started to say something but 8:00 A.M. hit and she went quiet. He wondered if she would come out of it finishing her sentence.

They sat in silence until his 9:15 shift began. He tossed the plastic mug into the sink and entered the newest wing of Mother’s newest building, yet another server cluster, another lobe to expand Mother’s computing power or maximum data storage. Unlike his previous job of hot-swapping faulty modules and secondary power supplies amidst the rush of circulated air, everything was quiet and still. They were only setting up server racks. He waited for instructions to be fed into his visual cortex through his neural implant. A short ad played in upper left corner of his vision, a limited time offer: 25% off a trip to Iceland, housing and plane tickets included for free. When the ad concluded, an augmented reality arrow leapt from between his legs and extended out toward his destination, which he followed as he purchased the day’s podcast binge to ease the monotony.

•

Adam got up from bed. He slid into the kitchen and allowed himself a light pour of gin and soda. He stewed on the couch in the living room. If he turned toward the bedroom, he could see Priya’s foot lit by the blade of light let in by the door left ajar. He turned back toward the window and lifted the drink. His nose wrinkled; he had bought lemon seltzer by mistake. The purchase of an olfactory desensitizing sim was tempting. He placed the drink on the coffee table. He considered buying a customized adult sim of the woman from earlier. Every new purchase depleted their joint account, keeping Priya under longer.

•

Adam sat on the hard, blue plastic bench and selected a comedy. The laugh track cut out and the comedian sipping water vanished. He felt his hamstrings pulled taut and was staring at the ground. Gobs of sweat pulled at his eyelashes and ran to the tip of his nose. He raised his head. The comedy resumed.

•

The credits of the comedy special and cheering crowd evaporated again and Adam stood in front of his locker. He realized he had never seen the interior of the matte aluminum space before. He looked around him. Matthew was entering the shower. A dull ache ran in waves from the back of his head. A delicate draft caught his thighs and he realized he had not finished dressing. He snatched his belongings from the locker and dressed hurriedly. When he exited the locker room, he glimpsed Gwen disappearing behind the door leading to the main hall. The clock above the door read 8:51. Adam slowed his pace. The ache had softened, revealing a constant but not uncomfortable warmth where the pain had been. Behind the tinted glass he could make out a dark blob. He had not properly dried himself and could not distinguish whether moisture from the shower or new perspiration dribbled from his armpit. He held the cool metal of the door handle for a moment, then swung it open as casually as he could muster. In front of him was a mousy man wearing a soft looking, navy sweater whose age had resulted in an accumulation of small pearls of rolled fabric at the sleeves. The creases that sandwiched his eyes deepened into ravines as he smiled and waved Adam to follow him.