The Proposition (An original short story)

Greta looked through the glass at the street. Outside the Starbucks' window, where she was sitting, cars slid in both directions and, at times, people passed. Shadows of trees lay on the pavement around the parking lot. She tried to force out the boring emptiness that filled her in the morning, with the smell of coffee and sweets.

In front of her, there was a laptop and a cup of black coffee. She preferred this type of brewing when she worked. Still, it was difficult to concentrate. The plethora of unpaid invoices, accumulated e-mails from clients and current work obligations filled her head. These thoughts appeared on the upper layer of consciousness as spots of a dull marshy shade. In general, her life did not indulge her with brightly colored thoughts, which are nice to rely on.

Her husband's sniffing and snoring at night and throwing socks around the apartment irritated her. He was neither a leader nor an irreplaceable expert, and his chances for a brilliant career were shaky. Yet, he was a kind person, loved her and she ought to appreciate that. Greta met him after a violent affair, the abrupt end of which and the subsequent sticky loneliness plunged her into depression. At that time, Paul's appearance was welcoming. This relaxed her and restored the lost faith in herself. Oh, and by the way, her age was catching up. It was about the time to settle down. What can a gal do, if a knight in a shining armor is nowhere to be found …? Her own work in copywriting did not bring a sizable income, and, honestly, the work on sales ads was quite boring. Greta sighed, took a sip from the cup and looked toward the opening door. It was odd, how imperceptibly life has put her in brackets, from which it was simply no escape.

The door flapped and a man entered. He was trim, stout and rather tall. Although with Greta's miniature built, many men seemed tall. He wore a light sweater, jeans, and new athletic shoes. He looked around. For a moment, their eyes met. "A pleasant face," she noted, and putting her head down, began looking inside her laptop. When she lifted them again, the stranger sat at the next table across the aisle and looked at her, quite definitively, as if waiting for her to pay attention to him. As soon as their glances met, he smiled; not playfully, but businesslike and slightly bowed. "The client must have tracked me down?" Flashed through her mind.

"Sam Connors. I need to talk to you. I will not take much time. I do not have it myself. May I sit in front of you?"

Greta nodded and Sam moved across the table in front of her. He spoke with seeming calmness, although his eyes were tense.

" What I'll tell you may seem weird. Under different circumstances, I would have prepared you better, but in this case, the time corridor is very short, and I'll have to tell everything at once."

" The corridor of what?"

Sam raised his hand in a warning gesture. His jaw muscles twitched.

"Now, everything will become clear. Tell me, Greta, what do you know about the compatibility matrix?

"How do you know my name?"

Sam smiled and there was a trace of restrained impatience in that smile.

"I know a lot about you, Greta. However, please, do not let it bother you. All this is in your own interest, as well as …ahem… in mine. So, what do you know about the compatibility matrix?

"Is that about the compatibility of partners?

"Yes."

"I heard it is something like a questionnaire ... and then, according to the answers, they select compatible partners."

"Well, in general, that's right. Although in your time, this knowledge was still in its infancy."

"In my time?"

"I mean "now", a time-period you live in, in terms of time torrent. By the way, do you know, what is an average partner compatibility in a marriage?"

Greta thought for a second.

"I'd say about fifty to sixty percent."

"Forty-two and three-tenths." For a moment, Sam lowered his head down and a vertical wrinkle formed on his forehead. "Do you know what compatibility you have with your husband?"

A shiver ran down her spine, and her mood quickly changed to anger.

"What? - What do you care? Whoever you are! How dare you! How obnoxious!

"Thirty-three."

"That's it! We will stop this conversation right now!" Greta said these words too loud and several people in the cafe turned their heads.

"Excuse me. I beg you. I understand that I must tell you unpleasant things, but ... "

He again lowered his head down and took a deep breath, "give me two more minutes. Then I'll be gone forever."

"Well…?"

"You are unhappy in this marriage of Greta. You'd never marry Paul if it weren't for your mom. Am I making sense so far?

"Why are you sticking your nose into this?"

"…what if tell you that there is a person with whom your compatibility is 93%?"

"Ninety-three?" - Grate cringed incredulously.

"Ninety-three and fifty-six hundredths, if you round the mantissa to two positions."

"And. Let me guess… this person is you. Greta rolled her eyes. – "What are you pulling, buddy!"

"Where I came from, I have an access to viewing the metadata of your time layer. By "your" I mean your time, what happens to you at the present moment. Believe me, I've come a long way to find you. ... Are you familiar with NASA research in connection with sending a satellite to Mars?

"I heard something."

"So, in 14 years, the side effects of this study will be gaining access, to viewing the past."

Greta thought, "Is he a nut case? Looks kinda normal."

"Will this not affect historical events?"

"No, if the phantom cell method is applied."

"Yet, you're not a phantom cell?"

"No! I arrived from 75 years in the future."

"Why did not you come here as phantom cells?"

"They cannot be heard or seen. They can only watch. Observe the events in time and space."

Suddenly their discussion was interrupted by beeps coming from Sam's pocket.

"Is this your beeper?"

Sam pooled a device out of his pocket. It reminded a phone. He looked at the dial.

"This is a transmitter. Sends me warning signals every so often. If we both click on these buttons." - He stretched his hand to let Greta see. - "We'll travel seventy-five years ahead."

"And if I do not press?"

"And if you don't, I'll have to go back alone and it will be awfully a bitter. Because this is my only chance. Rather, our only chance."

"Did you really think that I would agree or are you so confident in your charisma?"- she grinned – " you are not exactly a prince charming, you know."

"I'm hardly a prince."

"So why then?"

"I had a chance and I went for it. I live by the principle: ‘It is better to try and fail than not to try and then reproach yourself.'"

"We heard that. But, you were mistaken. You really didn't have any chance."

Sam smiled silently.

"What are you smiling about?" - Sam smiled even wider, but when the smile came down, his eyes were sad. He did not answer.

"Can't you travel here again?"

"It is expensive. I was able to rent a channel only for half an hour. Now there are fifteen minutes left."

"How expensive is this kind of pleasure in this ‘future' of yours?"

"Approximately as expensive as the first installment for the house." Greta whistled.

"But this's not even the point. By the time I accumulate enough money to re-travel, you will already have a child, and everything will be much more complicated."

Greta was silent for a moment. She sipped more from the cup, noting that coffee was already cold.

"I'm assuming you are not drowning in luxury over there."

"According to your local standards, I live well; a roomy house in the mountains, a full set of home services: cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc., a wonderful communication portal, and if you want to go to town, I have a flyer. I can travel wherever I want; it could be a virtual travel with a complete neural immersion or even real. Here take a look."

He handed Greta a device. On a small screen, she saw a video, confirming Sam's words.

"Well, you know, anyone can make a video. This is not a reason to believe you."

"Then let's both of us click on these buttons right now and see what will happen."

Greta withdrew her hand.

"Well, why do you need me in such a paradise?"

"It sounds trite," Sam blushed slightly, "but you know, I want to be understood, loved, you had someone to share, travel with, and raise children."

"Still why me? Do you have a shortage of female over there?"

"Not exactly. It's just that people, call it spoiled or whatever you'd like, do not want to settle anymore, don't want to compromise. They want an ideal relationship, a perfect fit; but this almost never happens. I have already given you figures. Well, instead they resort to companionship."

"What the hell is this?"

"This is when a person builds a relationship with an android. When it comes to androids, one has a great control over their character and appearance. Many people of both sexes manage to squeeze out of them a very high compatibility factor."

"And what… do they sleep with these dolls?"

"Well, they're not dolls. These are self-learning androids, with the highest coefficient of emotional emulation. They are extremely difficult to distinguish from people, both in appearance, behavior or in a conversation.

"This is so nasty! What do you think about this?"

"I don't judge them. What people do behind closed doors is their business. But the percentage of such sexual minorities is growing and many people in the society, and me in particular start to worry. Although I do not blame anyone, I'm still a supporter of traditional family values. That's why you are such a find for me. When I received the scan results, I was amazed. There were many other candidates, but nothing more than 72 percent. Then, suddenly, 93! And now, when I see you ... I realize that you are a woman to me."

"Just like this, eh?" There was a mockery in her voice.

"You're laughing, and I'll tell you something. What keeps you here? Your marriage is a failure. It will be a torment for you. You will ruin yourself. All of you assets will wither your beauty, your charisma. And your talent, it will never be blossom here!"

Greta pondered. Time seemed to stop. All except her and Sam: the cafe, people, cars and noise outside the window lost their resolution.

"Come on!" the beeping started again. Sam pulled the beeper out of his pocket and looked at the time.
"Let's say I'll go, fly, flow (I do not know what to call it) to your beautiful far away land. What will I do there? Sit like a dummy in your house and look at the mountains? I'll die from boredom."

"On the contrary. Your life will be full, interesting, creative. I really want this and you can't even imagine how possible this is. There's a great work opportunity for your type of intellect."

"Really, for my type of intelligence ...huh?"

"We have a technology that allows transport human thought to the visual environment. Then this visual stream can be edited: filtered, changed into real works of art. The final product is used for programming androids, gives uniqueness and humanity to their characters. I'm sure you'll like it. This is yours."
Greta raised her eyebrows. She imagined the world inhabited by alternative loners who prefer an artificially created fantasy to a company of a real human being.

"You advise me to facilitate the development of the very gender alternative paradigm, which expansion you are concerned about. How so?

" Well, first of all, human-like androids are used not only for companionship. Your processed information goes to huge data stores and is used in a variety of applications. Androids teach children, care for the sick, work on especially dangerous jobs on earth and in space.

"And secondly?"

"And secondly ..." Sam lowered his eyes for a second and the vertical fold already familiar to Greta lay between his eyebrows. Then he raised his eyes and again began to look at Greta without blinking – "yes, I'm not perfect, and not devoid of contradictions and weaknesses. And yes, I took this journey in my personal, "self-serving" - he singled out this word with a smile – "goals. But, no matter how trite it sounds, I will be the right person for you. I feel it and now, seeing you firsthand, I am even more sure."

Beeping started again. Sam stood up and stretched out his hand to Greta.

"It's time. We must do this now. Give me your hand!"

"No. I'm not going anywhere."

"I can't force you. But if you not going to do it now, you will regret this your entire life and make me extremely unhappy too. Your hand! Greta got up, involuntarily submitted to his demand. "Now click on this button! Well, together!"

"No. I'm scared. And what about Paul? And how about ..." Greta cast a bewildered glance around her.

Outside the window, all the cars were sliding in both directions, people were walking, trees were blossoming, and she saw this "today" as a narrow time cut, from the far away possible tomorrow.

"Why do you need Paul?" He is a stranger to you, a casual stranger.

Then quickly and somewhat nervously, he looked at the device panel.

"I'm sorry. There is no more time. Click the button with me! Click now!"