The Boy Who Wasn't And The Girl Who Couldn't Be

1 “You coming down the pub tonight?” It was a pretty stupid question really. Jerome went to the pub every night, as did his friends. But, without fail, Eddie always asked the same question at exactly the same time, 6.15 pm. And Jerome’s response would always be the same. “I think I may be able to force myself to partake of a beverage or two. Are Martin and Terry going? And the girls?” Followed by Eddie’s scripted reply. “I haven’t asked them yet, but I’m sure they will. They usually do.” Indeed they did. You could set your watch by the ritualistic activity of this small group of friends. They would ‘arrive’ at the pub at 7 pm and be drinking by 7:05 pm. Eddie would have a pint of Guinness, Martin and Terry would have a Heineken and Jerome would have a bottle of Foster’s Ice. The girls, Emily and Katrice, would both have a large glass of Chardonnay. Jerome turned away from the computer monitor, strolled into the kitchen, and tapped a couple of icons on the food dispenser. Thirty seconds later he was greeted with a generous portion of beans on toast with an equally generous portion of grated cheddar cheese spread on top, steam rising from the succulent snack. He took the plate from the dispenser and went back to the living room where he placed it on the occasional table whilst making sure that none of the sauce slopped off the plate. There were plenty of other snacks he could have chosen from, but beans-on-toast-with-cheese-on-top was his favourite. Besides, it was Tuesday, and Tuesday was beans on toast day. After eating his snack (he didn’t bother with a drink as he’d be drinking soon enough) he took his empty plate over to the dish receptor and placed it inside. There was no need to wash up; the kitchen appliance would take care of everything for him. He still had thirty minutes before his friends would be expecting him. Thirty minutes was plenty of time to shower and get ready. He went into his bedroom and pressed two icons on the clothes dispenser. A freshly ironed shirt and a pair of stone-washed denim jeans slid out of the adjoining wardrobe, along with a clean pair of underpants – boxer shorts, of course – and a pair of clean socks. Jerome stripped off, not bothering to fold them, and placed them into the clothes receptor. He hadn’t needed to request a towel as the shower unit was totally integrated, providing water, liquid soap and shampoo, and warm air to dry him when he’d finished showering. He didn’t bother to put a towel around his waist in an unnecessary act of modesty since nobody else could see him. He lived alone. Everybody lived alone. It’s how things were. After a brief but efficient shower, Jerome dried himself off underneath the warm jets of air and returned to the bedroom. He confirmed the time with his home management system. It was 18:53; just enough time to get dressed and get to the pub. Once dressed, he went into the living room and the 144-inch television monitor automatically switched itself on. The LED above a small ultra-high-resolution webcam glistened red and a perfect image of him was displayed onscreen. He looked himself up and down, checking that he looked presentable. Actually, he wanted to look more than presentable; this time he particularly wanted to impress Katrice. He’d fancied her for quite a while and felt that tonight was going to be the night to finally do something about it. “The time is now eighteen hundred hours and fifty-seven minutes, Jerome. Time to go to the pub.” “Thank you, Chrono.” Some people called their chronometers by a real name, according to the gender of the voice that was selected. For example, Eddie’s chronometer was called Zoe. He said that he liked the idea of being woken up every day by a woman’s voice. But Jerome had chosen the neutral setting, which meant that his chronometer’s voice was more robotic than anything else. And the name Chrono was of sufficient gender neutrality to remove any traces of anthropomorphism. “The time is now eighteen hundred hours and fifty-nine minutes, Jerome. You should be at the pub” Jerome finally settled himself on his black synthetic leather sofa in front of his oversized computer monitor. Sixty seconds later Jerome was facing six split-screen images, five of which contained a live video feed of his friends. The sixth showed his own image. He smiled at them and selected emojis from his touchscreen remote control, handshakes for the men and kisses for the girls. His friends did the same; it was another nightly ritual that never changed. Once the greetings were over, Eddie made a suggestion. “I know we always have the same drink, night after night, but let’s go crazy for once. Let’s be kinda spontaneous. Let’s have a cocktail.” Jerome could see the confused looks on the faces of his friends, all except Eddie’s that is; Eddie was positively excited. Jerome was a little anxious. “I don’t know, Ed. What if we don’t like it?” “Have you ever eaten or drank anything you didn’t like?” Jerome had to admit that he hadn’t. There were things that he preferred over other things but he’d never actually tried anything to eat or drink and not liked it. He looked at his friends’ faces and noticed a slight change in Katrice’s expression. “Katrice? What do you think?” Katrice leaned back, allowing her black synthetic leather sofa to embrace her. “I think...I think it could be fun.” That sealed it for Jerome. She wasn’t going to be impressed with him if he poured cold water on Ed’s suggestion. He nodded his head. “Okay. I’m in. What’s a cocktail?” Eddie was prepared. “I’ve googled it. A cocktail is a mixed drink, consisting typically of gin, whiskey, rum, vodka, or brandy, with different admixtures such as vermouth, fruit juices, or flavouring, usually chilled or frequently sweetened.” Terry looked uncertain at the explanation. “Not sure I’m going to like that, Ed. Sounds complicated. Just make one and we’ll try it.” Eddie was prepared for that response too. “We’ll have something called a Tequila Sunrise. I tried one earlier. Shall I do the honours?” Martin was becoming impatient. “Well, do something Ed. I’m b****y thirsty. We’re wasting valuable drinking time.” Eddie went into his kitchen and pressed a few icons on his food dispenser’s control panel. Within seconds each of the friends heard a chime from their own dispensers, meaning that something was ready to be removed. The six segments of the monitor screen showed empty chairs for about thirty seconds until the previous occupants returned, each holding a tall glass containing a fresh tequila sunrise. Emily took a sip and squealed. “Mmmm! This is delicious. I could get addicted to this.” Katrice nodded furiously. “Me too. Sod the wine.” Jerome wasn’t convinced. It was a little too sweet for his palate. To be honest, he would have preferred his Fosters Ice but he didn’t want to appear a party-pooper and so he gushed about it too. “I like the sunrise effect. It’s just like some I’ve seen on TV. And a few sunsets too. I wonder why they call it a tequila sunrise and not a tequila sunset?” Martin was definitely unconvinced. “I don’t think I’ll be having any more of these tonight. Way too sweet for me. I’ll stick to my Heineken.” Terry nodded in agreement. He and Martin were free to decline further cocktails, they had each other, but Jerome didn’t want anything to get in the way of a chance with Katrice. The evening went pretty much as any other evening; drinks were drunk, video games were played, and conversations were had. Soon it was 10 pm and each of the friends’ chronometers warned them that the evening’s entertainment was about to draw to a close. Goodbyes were said and, one by one, Jerome’s friends’ images disappeared. There was a strict order to the sign-offs; first Martin and Terry would say goodbye and disappear, then Emily would do the same. Eddie would be the fourth to leave, followed by Katrice. Then Jerome would switch off his monitor and go to bed. Jerome had to get his timing correct so that Katrice didn’t disappear and he wouldn’t miss his opportunity to talk to her alone. Just before Katrice was about to sign off, he forced himself to break the unofficial protocol that the group followed. “Katrice, don’t go just yet. I need to ask you something.” Katrice smoothed her long auburn hair and looked intently into her webcam. “You want to ask me something? What could that be, I wonder?” Jerome suddenly felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach, like a hundred butterfly wings beating randomly. Did she know what he was going to say to her? How could she? He’d been careful to hide his feelings. It must have been last week when he’d complimented her on her dress. He hadn’t said anything to Emily about her dress. Katrice must have guessed that he was attracted to her. His behaviour had been totally out of character for him. He suddenly realised that he’d spent the last thirty seconds or so just looking at her. She was a very attractive, her brown eyes glistening and the few freckles on her cheeks appearing to dance in the subdued lighting of her apartment. He had to say something before she got tired of waiting for him to speak. “Katrice. I was wondering, that is, I was hoping, if you like – I’d really like – I mean, oh crap, I’m rubbish at this.” Katrice took pity on the babbling fool that was struggling to construct a cohesive sentence. “Jez, just say it. Don’t think about it – just say it.” Jerome took the plunge. “Katrice, I want to ask you if you’d do me the honour of coupling with me.” He hoped that he hadn’t been too forward. Terry and Martin were coupled, and he’d a strong suspicion that Eddie and Emily were coupled – or very close to being so. That left just the two of them uncoupled. And it wasn’t as if Katrice was Hobson’s choice. He really did like her. He just hoped that she felt the same way about him. Katrice pretended to be weighing her options for a minute, but she was only teasing Jerome. She’d grown fond of him in the months that they had known each other, and saw no reason not to accept his invitation. “Ok, Jerome. Despite the formality of your invitation, we’ll couple. I know it was just nerves. But I have one condition. You have to call me Kat.” She blew him a kiss. “I’ll see you at midnight.” And with that, her image disappeared from Jerome’s monitor screen.