The Simulation

Taylor was sure the Young Emily Mark lll would not sup her glass of Merlot like a bowl of hot soup. Her lips would not be moustachioed with berries or her improbable teeth ever stained.

A little blackbird chirped outside giving Taylor something to soothe her as she read through the reviews. The adrenaline hadn’t left her body making it hard to focus, hard to read. Hours after the encounter Taylor sat cross- legged on her bed, memory foam molding around her glutes and thighs. She pressed her thumb between her brows trying to relieve the thudding. Her whole being couldn’t stop replaying the awkward shock she felt when her crush, a pilot called Fraser, a farmer of strawberry dreams, had crushed her in return. But with a bad dream.

She wasn't shy, the pressure behind her eyeballs came from the frustration of knowing how much she had been shaking before she asked him if he was seeing anyone. She wasn't even a jealous person. No, she could have been coolish with him going out with the funny, chubby lassie from the office. or a sexy cabin crew girl. Her head had swirled and her eyes swam as he had shown her a photo of his new love, his latest acquisition: A datebot.

Taylor took another glug of wine and looked through the online catalogue. The reviews were mostly five stars. While the Mark ll had impressed with its ability for daily exercise, The Young Emily Mark lll was a clean eater and had long chestnut hair like a horse. Underneath her name was the tagline ‘living her best life.' She also had been programmed to make three jokes a year about people called Karen. Taylor printed out the page.

The catalogue had a range including ‘Milf Emily’ but Fraser had chosen Young Emily. The dullness and obviousness. Why on earth had she thought he was different? Why did she think she was different? Taylor scowled. A date bot. He chose automata but he seemed so humane. All the volunteering he did, his freckely skin and his bald spot. His flirty eyes too, even the bots could see the way they glistened.

Hadn’t he been overheard saying he liked older women? That day in the volunteer cafe:

“Do you like Charlotte?” said the chubby admin girl.

Fraser smiled a yes but said “I like older women” Yes he definitely said it. The office ladies teased him and all the nurses piqued any time he came over and chatted.

“How old is the oldest you would go out with?”

He had paused for a second like he was counting or running a film in his head.

“Forty-seven,” he said with a meaning that she thought could have been directed to her.

Taylor bravely read on. After clinical trials updates were made to the Mark lll’s hybrid offspring. Earlier Emilys had popped out children soon after being switched on which had offended the middle classes. Now the datebot only reproduced between the human approximation years of twenty-nine and a half and thirty-four and three-quarters and never posted photos of their human mate on social media.

All the Emily series had a first date chip that could be topped up with credits so a first date could be done over should it have been unsatisfactory. The first date feature also wiped the humans' social media public posts. Taylor topped up her wine glass. The ring mark it left circled Young Emily’s head with a deep ruby bullseye.

Taylor remembered an Aussie, Daniel Crawfield from an office cleaning job she had before wielding her mop at the hospital. He had left to turn his hobby of computer hacking into a career in cyber security. She messaged him back and forth, then video called him a couple of weeks later, trying to ignore the knife she could see next to the stapler on his desk.

“So you can help me then?” Taylor asked.

“It’ll cost you,” said Daniel.

“Two walnut whips and a bottle of this red?”

“ Aren’t there three whips in a packet?”

“I will eat one but I will drink responsibly.” Taylor smiled and clicked ‘Leave Meeting.’

Fraser took a few more bites of his salad sandwich. He took photos of the 24th wave cake and made a quick Hologram video to celebrate twelve years of supporting the staff at the Amazon-Musk Healthcare Alliance. The other volunteers helped him empty the porter's trolley so he could get more supplies for the vaccine centre asking him questions as they handed him tubs and containers.

“St Ives, nice eh? Long way for a first date. How long does it take to get there?”

“Have you experienced Fraser’s driving? Tell them how long it takes you to get home.” They all turned to hear the answer.

“Fourteen minutes,” said Fraser grinning with a mixture of pride and sheepishness.

He reckoned it would take about an hour and a half on his new Bahn speed bike. He already bought a FastPass for roads for the first day the restrictions were due to be lifted.

Fraser told the Young Emily she looked good on his bike. Well, he told her she looked like a sexy woman sitting on his bike, but he meant wee lassie. He felt new again. The last woman he took out had been eleven years older than him. Forty-seven at the time. She aged startlingly. She had become ill and spent the last years either hospitalised or bedridden. He just wanted a love that stayed picture perfect and a love who didn’t spend any of his money to stay that way.

Taylor laughed when she clicked the St Ives tourist webcam. She could watch herself being a datebot. Live footage of the beautiful harbour, a path dotted with benches. Perfect. It was the same cam she got her old college mate Astra to wave in front of when she was down the beach with her kids. Adorable.

Fraser sidled next to Young Emily as she leaned against the beach wall. Taylor twitched in her seat at home. She wanted to count every freckle on his forehead. He leaned in and looked at Young Emily’s food in the cardboard tray.

“Mmmm, looks goo…” He jumped back and almost gagged when he saw she got mushy peas with her lunch.

“There is a scene on my screen.” Daniel face-palmed and yell-whispered into the mic connected to Taylor’s earpiece. “Tay, you were supposed to get avo” He gave up with the earpiece. “Strewth, do I look like an antacid to you? He said, perspiring as he hacked Young Emily’s stomach container to reconfigure for all the crap Taylor was going to make her eat.

“Hey!” It was Astra and her kids walking toward Young Emily’s back. Taylor jumped up and down. She hadn’t seen those guys since wave 22.

“Frankie, Riley” Taylor yelled into the Young Emily’s mic. Oh Shit.

“Taylor,” Daniel stood up and wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt. “Has Emily Mark lll got eyes in the back of her..?” Too late. Daniel shook his head beneath his palmed hands.

Fraser couldn’t understand it. Mark lll’s only brought up the subject of children after six dates. Young Emily had complained he drove too fast too. The blonde child, Riley sat between them and explained he was allowed to go Jelbert's because he ate all his trees. Frankie climbed on Emily’s lap and opened and shut the gold heart on Emily’s necklace, saying “wow” each time.

Astra rushed over and retrieved her kids, delayed by trying to get baby Scarlett in the pushchair. Taylor could see she didn’t know whether to be suspicious or sorry.

“Bloody hell Tay, You're gonna have to rescue this quicker than a shithouse rat,” said Daniel.

Taylor took note and resisted the urge to chat to Astra, She stripped off her outerwear to reveal a stylish but not too revealing bikini. She ran to the water, swimming and splashing prettily as Young Emily was programmed to do. Fraser couldn’t follow quickly enough.

They walked back up the beach. “Let me rub you dry.” said the Emily bot batting her eyelashes.”

Fraser looked thrilled. Taylor picked up an immaculately laundered towel. Underneath the towel, there were the plastic rings from a four-pack of beer and a used bandage.

“UGHH,” Taylor was fuming down the Young Emily’s mic. “I hate litter louts…”

Daniel closed his eyes. He knew what was coming.

Taylor’s rant lasted a full five minutes complete with accurate statistics of how many animals die each year from ingesting litter and the damage to the environment.

“Taylor, Young Emily is light and happy…” Daniel hissed down his earpiece “...at all times. Tay! Fraser is glazing over…”

Taylor looked at Fraser’s back. It was glowing red from its angry rub down.

“Strewth, Shelia.” Daniel whacked an instruction manual against his earpiece until Taylor got the message.

“What else needs drying?” she said through Young Emily’s perfect mouth. Before Fraser had a chance to answer she ran off with the towel.

“Approved,” said Daniel.

Fraser filled up the coffee urns at the cafe. A fellow pilot laid the cakes out on trays.

“So how’s it going with Young Emily?” asked the pilot.

“Auch, I finished with her.” Fraser put the water jug down, ready for the next question.

“Oooh, why?”

“She was too real.”

Giuseppe was lost to the sound of the wind through the Pennsylvania trees when his phone woke him up with a chirping blackbird sound effect. Thrown off by the real bird’s song in the branches he fumbled around in all directions before he managed to answer.

Giuseppe crossed his expansive property, twigs snapped ferociously under him. He had to get back to Zoom his senior analyst. His work was his flock of sheep and the Mark lll Emily Bot’s were his wounded ewe. So some Brit had been hacking into their systems. The weekend could kiss him goodbye.

His forester was arranging the incinerator with some kindling protected by the cold nip and almost raining sky. Giuseppe had typed and made two video calls by the time he realised he was still in his blue flannel shacket. He threw it on the back of another chair, reached for an unprepared bottle of Merlot from amongst some old files and poured some into a mug.

It was only about half an hour before his screen bubbled up with messages. Damn, that guy was good.

“Pino…” The substantial frame of his colleague filled Whatsapp, pixelated and froze. A raspy voice message pinged up right after:

“Pino, we got her.”

He attached some video files that Giuseppe opened on his laptop. He looked through them for a few minutes and then stopped.

“Woa.. Giuseppe almost said. He opened and closed his mouth.

“So you must be Taylor.” He spoke quietly even though he was alone. A photo taken from ground level through some long grasses and meadow flowers framing a pair of long legs one bent the other crossed over it with toes in the air. Another photo, ash blonde hair, red lips and eyes shaded with a hand against the light, then wearing shades. He opened the rest of the files feeling warm; from the Merlot he reasoned. Outside the flames started up licking over the edge of the incinerator.