They accepted me! I’m on the force. I quit the drycleaners. They gave me a fairmaker and I’ve been using it on inanimate objects: spinning pop cans, melting bags of potato chips, singeing my hanging shirts in the closet. But it only works on people. It sends this jolt through your wrist because the Digisphere has to use you as a connection point in order to shock the person you’re fixing. Even when you’re using it on inanimate objects the jolt it sends up through your wrist and forearm feels good, like cool vengeance. I’m hungry to make a connection with someone.
“After I found out I was accepted, it seemed I had to arrange a meeting with Marian and share the news.
“I still had her phone number. We met up at a Chez Mouvant on High Street for a late lunch with the hot city air blowing through open windows. It was busy and crowded with yuppies yammering away, getting lost in the French ambiance and the jazz and the fancy presentation of their tiny meals but that’s the way I like it. You can really talk to your dining partner when everyone else is distracted, enjoying themselves.
“She’s so beautiful, Diary. It hurts to be near her and think of how she ended it over what she called my insecurity, but somehow I had to let her know they had accepted me.
“She wore a black floral silk dress of Asian styling which seemed to meld effortlessly into her gently waving red hair and fair complexion. It was nice to watch her full red lips move as she talked about Engineering, chemical processing stuff, all the little details just flooding back to me.
“I got my Cruising Pass,” she said, “I’ve seen all the old colonies of the solar system.” Her blue eyes flashed, “It’s amazing.”
“‘That’s nice,’ I told her.’
“‘Why don’t you get your Pass? Check out what’s all out there. The Cruising Test is so easy, Frankie. It’s just a bunch of math stuff. And the colonies are amazing, you know, the detail they retained from the real world.’
“‘People put to much emphasis on breadth,’” I said. “‘Marian, the Talent Police accepted me. I’m on the Force.’
“She kept eating.
“‘Did you hear me?’”
“She stopped in the middle of chewing before swallowing and taking a big gulp of water. ‘Yah, that’s great. I always had you pegged for the Talent Police.’
“‘What’s that mean?’
“‘You know: always talking about other people. It’s your thing. It’s good.’ She looked over my shoulder, ‘It’s cool. I’m happy for you.’
“She was so gorgeous. Even when she was ripping me apart and I knew this was her thing. Taking something that meant the most to me and not letting me have any enjoyment out of it. That’s when it clicked for me, she was a hacker. Sure, I had had suspicions when we were dating. Always cheerful, floating through life, beautiful, without a snag or a lapse in the six months we spent together. And she was smart. She was so smart, Diary, it was scary. She could look at a person and tell you what their major of study was, tell you what their favorite drink was, everything. Honestly, I think, deep down, part of the reason I arranged the meeting was to give her one last look to decide for certain and at that instant I knew. She was a hacker. I hadn’t checked yet, but I’m sure she was on the Talent Police’s list and if she wasn’t, that could be fixed.”