Perfect Mate 7.5

(Author's note: Ok, I feel bad that I've skipped out on the prologue to the novel so I feel a need to provide some original fiction content after all. Plus, Erik essentially referenced the following short story in one of his comments. I wrote this one a few years back as more of a comedy sketch than a story. Like everything I write that I classify as fiction, 75% of it is actually true. And anything that happens to a character named Brian is 90% based on my own life. Hope you enjoy it.

Oh, and the fact that my blog has a link to the framework makes the nine months of effort worthwhile. That is priceless.)

Setting: A cramped one bedroom apartment on the outskirts of a college campus. The apartment appears to be decorated in retro slacker grunge or may not be decorated at all, it is difficult to tell at first glance. Upon entering, one is startled by the sheer amount of paper that is held within the apartment. Page after page of computer printout is scattered around the floor, each page covered with program code and penciled comments like “Junk”, “Meaningless Drivel”, “Immense Breakthrough!!!” and “FUBAR” written over and over again. Intermixed with this is a seemingly endless pile of magazines: Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issues, Maxim, FHM, Victoria’s Secret Catalogs, a couple of issues of Cosmo for variety’s sake, and the odd issue of Swank. In short, the types of magazines that tend to show celebrities in lingerie and discuss how to have more sex, while never really explaining that while you may somehow obtain the latter you will never have it with the former. Given what is on top of the pile, the prudent person does not attempt to determine what might lie below.

If one could find their footing amongst this mess, the room begins to take on a more standard shape. Compact discs scattered around, a pile of dirty dishes sitting in the sink, clothes lying on the couch. In essence, something that screams either college or someone who could really use a cleaning service.

The focus seems to be centered on the computer desk, which is obviously the centerpiece of the room. A mélange of dark black and industrial beige computer components are combined through a maddening mess of interconnected cables. The desk itself is filled with a monitor bigger than the television set found covered by a Guinness t-shirt in a neglected corner of the room. On top of the monitor sits a rather morose stuffed Dilbert doll, covered with beads as if anticipating the Mardi Gras Barbie to come walking through the door any minute now.

Two men are at the computer desk. Typing away at the computer is Brian, a tall, lanky, bespectled gentleman. In short, the type of guy you always hear described by neighbors as, “A quiet guy, really nice. I didn’t even know he owned a chainsaw.” Standing above him, looking around the place in a sense of disbelief is Richard, another lanky gentleman but one who seems to hold himself with confidence even though he finds himself in a world that is not of his making.

R: “This better be good, Brian. We’re missing dollar pitcher night for this.”
B: “Look, after I show you this we will never have to worry about dollar pitchers. We’ll, actually, I mean I’ll, be rich enough that drink specials will no longer hold interest. Anyway, there’s Guinness in the fridge.”
Richard looks towards the kitchen and has a sinking feeling that the wallpaper is apparently moving combined with a realization that he has never seen wallpaper in any of these apartments before.
R: “I’ll take your word on it. So, what is this exactly?”
B: “This my friend, is my masterpiece. I’ve put years of work into this and the program is finally done. I’ve always wondered, who is the right woman for me. I’ve tried talking to people, I’ve tried going to bars. Hell, on the rare occasion I’ve even tried dating. But, it dawned on me that if I put together a database with all of the possible criteria I would be able to model my perfect mate based solely on my inputs. Once I made that breakthrough it was just a matter of gathering all of the data. Not that difficult really, don’t know why anyone else hasn’t thought of it before.
R: “Wait. Instead of going out and meeting women you built an in depth model to determine your perfect mate based solely on the user’s inputs?”
B: “Yes, isn’t it brilliant?”
R: “It’s bloody demented. Christ, in the amount of time you spent on this you would have found somebody. Hell, with the amount of money you spent on this you could of bought somebody. You know, brides do come by mail order now.”
B: “Yeah, but I talked to American Express and they really balked at my plan of exchanging one if I found out I didn’t like it. Plus, have you ever seen the shipping costs on one of those. And, they never seem to poke enough holes in the box.”
R: “Seems like you have put a lot of thought into that option.”
B: “Yes, but that is besides the point. Look, I wrote this program so that any guy could use this. Imagine what I could charge for a program that will tell you exactly what you are looking for. You’ll be your own matchmaking service. You could go up to someone and say that we are made for each other and it would actually be true!”
R: “Ok, let’s just see if this works.”

A flurry of keys are pressed until a screen with “Perfect Mate 7.5” comes up on screen.

B: “Ok, it is really pretty simple. First, it asks for a couple of simple physical characteristics.”
R: “Wait a minute, I’ve seen this before.”
B: “No, you couldn’t have. I didn’t show you any of the prototypes.”
R: “Not the screen you moron, this. This is the same thing as in Weird Science.”
B: “Yeah, but that was with mid-80’s technology. We have the next generation of computer power sitting here.”
R: “I don’t want any part of this. I can guarantee you that Kelly LeBrock is going to appear in that bathroom doorway and the rest of my life is going to mirror Anthony Michael Hall’s.”
B: “Trust me, it won’t happen. Anyway, if it did then I would be stuck as the guy who wasn’t Anthony Michael Hall and at least that would leave me worse off than you. I don’t see them making an E True Hollywood Story about him anytime soon.”
R: “Ok, punch in the characteristics.”
B: “Hair color: red. I have a weakness for redheads.”
R: “I thought you had a weakness for blondes from Minnesota.”
B: “No, I just tend to fall in love with them for much longer than one would expect. Redheads make heart go all fluttery without saying a word.”
R: “Please never say the word fluttery again in my presence.”
B: “Ok, the other things are simple: eye color, body type, height, weight, standard physical characteristics, bra size, you know, all the usual stuff. Then all you have to do is put in personality types.”
R: “You don’t talk to women but you have classified their personalities. How in the world did you do that?”
B: “Well, you know how they tag birds for study.”
R: “I really should not have asked this question.”
B: “Instead of tranquilizer darts I just went to the Backer late at night. It’s amazing what type of data you can collect. So, I am looking for an outgoing, funny, witty, life of the party type, but one with an artistic bent. A performer type. You know, someone who is smart and artistic who will be able to bring me out of my shell. Someone who goes out drinking and dances and will just be fun to hang out with”
R: “And you can enter all of that.”
B: “Yep, and now I can hit execute and I will finally see my perfect mate.”
R: “You mean you haven’t tried it before now.”
B: “Sure, I’ve run tests but that was on standard males. You know, put in what the average guy wants and you get a picture of Pamela Anderson or Brittney Spears. Raise the IQ a little and you get Gwenyth Paltrow. Lower the IQ and you get a bevy of interchangeable porn stars. Here it goes.”

The computers churn as the screen goes black. Slowly, an image begins to appear on the screen. Richard and Brian are first taken aback and then are slowly drawn to the screen.

R: “That’s amazing.”
B: “There has to be something wrong in the program.”
R: “I mean, I am shocked.”
Brian grabbing a pile of computer code: “I must have missed a decimal somewhere.”
R: “You know, I had some reservations about seeing this but I have to admit, that is something I have never seen before.”
B: “Shut up.”
R: “I mean, I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a female Bozo the Clown.”
B: “Shut up.”
R: “Big red nose and everything.”
B: “I told you, there’s an error in the program.”
R: “I know what big feet means for a guy, I shudder to think what it means in this case.”
B: “Ok, I get your point. It doesn’t matter; I’ve already sold the software. Plus, my backup plan is still operational.”
R: “What backup plan.”
B: “Here, restart the program and search for perfect mate: male.”
R: “Uh Brian, I think you’ve known me long enough….”
B: “Just do it.”
R: “Ok.” Punches a few keys. “Brian it came up with a picture of you.”
B: “That’s funny. Try it again, just change the parameters.”
R: “Look, I asked for a muscular, chain smoking biker and it gave me a picture of you.”
B: “I told you, the backup plan is fully operational. I might not know what I am looking for, but if I can get all the women to look for me I’ll find her eventually. Let’s get out of here. I’d buy but Donna’s working tonight so I doubt we’ll have to pay anyway.”