Love Guaranteed by T.C. Powell

by


loveguaranetted-cover

LOVE GUARENTEED

T.C. Powell

Rannie finally reached the front of the customer service line. Behind the counter stood a tall gentleman wearing a video-tie that displayed Love Guaranteed ads in a loop. “Make virtual reality your reality,” they read. “Love guaranteed or your money back.”

“I’d like my money back,” Rannie told the clerk.

The clerk grinned and rubbed his hands. “Absolutely, sir, that’s our guarantee! Could I just see your transaction chit?”

Rannie retrieved the small metallic sliver and handed it to the clerk, who ran it under a scanner and promptly returned it.

“Let’s see,” the clerk said, gazing into a screen, “girlfriend special, paid through six months. You’ve only used two. Can I ask why you’d like a refund? Our data shows,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “that you and the lady have been getting on fine.”

Rannie adjusted his glasses and looked around, seeing nobody but the clerk. “That’s the problem,” he said, feeling his neck warm, “we’ve been getting along too well. She’s… it’s…”

“Too easy?”

That was it, exactly. Lisette was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman: gorgeous, intelligent, kind and (what really set her apart) willing. She never mentioned his weight or complexion, never argued, never disagreed, never got upset, never said “No.”

She wasn’t real.

The clerk nodded. “Some of our more discriminating clientele, such as yourself, have had difficulties relating to our standard model of Virtual Girlfriend because the model presents no challenge. We’ve designed it to cater to your every whim, of course, and, for some, this is less than satisfactory.”

“That might be it,” Rannie said. “It’s like, when I ask her to… do things, she just does them. That’s not how a real girlfriend would act. Not all the time. It always makes me think, this can’t be real.”

“As I suspected. I’d be more than happy to refund your money, per our guarantee, but before I do, allow me to suggest an alternative: our latest service, the Virtual Girlfriend 2.0! She has a TLF setting — that’s ‘True-Life Fidelity’ — which you can adjust depending on how many realistic quirks and idiosyncrasies you’d like. The higher the number, the more challenging. If you’re interested, in lieu of a refund, I can upgrade you at no additional charge.”

Rannie wasn’t sure. He’d saved all through his first year of college to try this out, but now he felt foolish. Maybe it would be best to just get his money back.

“Our guarantee still applies,” the clerk continued. “If, before your pre-paid service concludes, you consider yourself unsatisfied, we’ll refund the entire fee.” The clerk winked. “It’s a better deal than any real-life woman will give you.”

“All right,” Rannie said. “Sign me up.”

The clerk entered a few fast commands into his computer. “Excellent. Now then, the Girlfriend’s hair color is still to your liking, yes…?”

SciPhiSeperator

Rannie turned the TLF dial from 0 to 1. It ran to 10, with the final setting supposedly being “realer than real.” Craving a genuine experience, Rannie wanted immediately to set it to the maximum, but the clerk had insisted that it was best to make incremental adjustments, to try to find the “sweet spot.”

Rannie touched his chit to a panel alongside VR Pod 16 and a metal door slid open. He walked inside, his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness.

The door slid shut behind him. There was a soft popping sound, and then lights dawned all around, rose-pink then yellow, like an Easter sunrise. The metal floor underneath changed texture, became sand. And then came the sounds of crashing waves and cawing seagulls, and the smell of salt air.

He stood on a beach. How right it was, how spot-on perfect. If only Lisette had been as true-to-life.

Then he saw her, playing in the foam of the waves like Venus. She was a composite of the best features of every woman he’d ever wanted, with Maritha’s flowing blonde hair, Genevive’s dusting of freckles, and Iba’s dimpled smile.

Seeing her dancing in the surf, a gossamer bikini stretched tight across her front, should immediately have rekindled the fire he’d initially felt. But having spent the last two months with her, Rannie discovered that he hungered for… something more.

“Rannie!” She waved, laughing, and ran up the beach to greet him.

“Hi, Lisette,” he said. “How are you?”

“Great! I got back my lit essay on Dickens — Professor Carroll gave me an A!”

Lisette, like other Virtual Girlfriends, had a life that extended beyond the time Rannie spent with her. Of course, that “life” was nothing more than algorithms calculated within the metal walls, but it helped to maintain the illusion of Lisette’s reality. She even knew how long it had been since Rannie had last visited.

“That’s wonderful,” Rannie said. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t come by last night like I’d promised.”

Her eyes sparkled with sunlight. “That’s okay. I missed you, of course, but I’m so happy to see you right now that nothing else matters.”

“If you’d like, we could make it up, go out for dinner. Italian?”

“Italian sounds perfect.”

“I mean Chinese.”

“Yes. Now that you say it, Chinese sounds better. Let’s go.”

“I hate Chinese food,” he said. “It’s awful and anyone who likes it is awful, too.”

“You’re so smart, Rannie,” Lisette said, her smile never faltering. “I never thought of it that way, but I’m sure you’re right. Come to think of it, I hate Chinese food, and I’m sorry that I ever said differently. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

It was hopeless. She was the same as ever. Might as well have a little fun and then get back in line for the refund, he thought.

“Of course you can,” Rannie said. “Take off your bikini.”

“Here?” Lisette looked around. “I guess so, if you think it’s safe.” She reached around to untie her top.

Rannie held up his hand. “Wait.”

She’d questioned him. It wasn’t much, and she wound up giving in a second later, but for a moment she had expressed… doubt, hesitation, her own wishes, something other than blind obedience.

For a moment Lisette had come alive.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her eyes suddenly wide and worried.

“No. You did something exactly right. I’ll be back.”

Rannie held two fingers straight up, signaling the program to stop. Lisette, the beach, even the sun, died away to gray then black, and he slipped out the door.

At the panel, Rannie set the TLF dial to 4 then resumed the program.

“Where did you go?” Lisette asked as soon as she had re-formed, her brows drawn together for the first time. “You asked me to strip, then just took off. I don’t understand.”

Rannie was as excited as the night she’d taken his virginity. More.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t do that again. Let me take you out. Italian.”

“Not Italian,” Lisette said, pouting. “I want Chinese. I like Chinese.”

Rannie felt a grin break out. “Chinese it is.”

SciPhiSeperator

TLF 4 had limitations. Over the next month, Rannie discovered that Lisette could put up resistance to details about what to eat, where to go, when to make love, but all he had to do was assert himself and she would always, ultimately give in.

She never bore grudges or showed any real resentment for how she was treated, and her few objections were regular and predictable. Over time it amounted to monotony.

Finally, feeling like he’d reached the limits of what TLF 4 could provide, Rannie decided to increase the setting to 7.

That night, spooning in bed after a short but powerful session of lovemaking (Lisette, shockingly, had pulled Rannie into bed without so much as a “hello”), he found himself in an intimate conversation:

“I love you,” she said.

“I know.” He’d heard it before, and liked hearing it, but it never meant enough. It couldn’t from her.

“No, I mean really. I really love you.” She curled her arms around his chest, nuzzling her breasts against his shoulder blades.

How long had he wanted to be held like this? To be desired? Now, at long last, he had it… but only because it was paid for. It was artificial. No real woman had said those words. No real woman would.

Tears came stinging to Rannie’s eyes. “I don’t know why.”

She kissed the back of his neck. “You’re brilliant, gorgeous–”

“Gorgeous? I’m fifty pounds overweight, at least.” And the acne scarring. And the glasses.

“You’re a little heavy, sure. But you’re still beautiful in my eyes.”

Because you’re programmed that way.

“And,” she continued, “you are the best I’ve ever been with, if you know what I mean.”

She sounded sincere, but it raised a question that had bugged Rannie for a while. He’d never asked it, partly out of embarrassment, and partly because he couldn’t trust the answer. But maybe now things had changed.

“When we have sex,” he said, “and you… at the end… is it always real?”

She didn’t answer right away, but blew cool air onto the spot she’d been kissing. Eventually she stopped and pulled him tight. “Does it matter?”

It did.

He held still, waiting for her response.

Lisette sighed. “Not always, but usually. Almost always.”

Rannie pulled away. He buried his face in the pillow and felt Lisette move off of the bed.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said, her voice muffled through the pillow. “I don’t understand why it upsets you.”

Rannie pulled his face up, wet from tears. Lisette was dressing herself. “I want to be able to trust you. To believe you when you tell me you love me. That’s why it’s so important you never lie to me, not even about… that. Especially that.”

“So if things don’t work out some night for whatever reason, you’d want to know? You’d want me to tell you?” Her tone was changing. She was getting angry. “You want to know the things I don’t like, even if it hurts you?”

“Yes,” he said. “I want to know.”

She pulled up her jeans and started fishing in her closet for a shirt. “Okay, then. How about this? I don’t like how you always ask what I want to do. Just make a decision, sometimes. I don’t like how you analyze every little thing I do, like you’re looking for problems. And I don’t like having to constantly reassure you. When I say I love you, assume I mean it. I can’t keep apologizing for what other women have done.”

Rannie didn’t know what to say. “I–”

“Save it,” she said. She was dressed now, and heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Out. I need some time. We both do, I think. Anyways,” she said, picking up her backpack, “I need to study.”

Rannie remembered that she would have her literature midterm the next morning. The class was the final credit she needed before graduation.

As Lisette walked out of the bedroom, Rannie asked, “Can I… is it all right if I stay tonight?”

Lisette took in a deep breath and let it go, then smiled. “Of course.”

Rannie listened for the front door before moving. He slipped out of bed, exited the pod, and a minute later returned to bed, drawing the covers up to rest his head on their softness. Then he waited.

He had set the TLF to 9.

As he half-feared and half-expected, Lisette did not come home that night.

SciPhiSeperator

The next couple of months were volatile and full of constant bickering. Lisette insisted that Rannie start exercising and eating better. She became critical of him, echoing complaints that he’d long harbored about himself, but never put into words. Sex became infrequent — long droughts punctuated by brief, intense outbursts that never quite left him satisfied.

When he was away from the pod, droning through his normal, mundane existence, Rannie’s thoughts constantly turned back to Lisette, dreaming of ways he might better please her.

On the night of her graduation, Rannie returned to the pod early to prepare a surprise celebratory dinner. He’d just finished plating spring rolls when he heard her come through the front door.

“Rannie?” she called.

He picked up the two small plates. “Coming.”

“Oh, I hope you didn’t–” she said as he stepped into the dining room and set the plates on the table. “You did. I thought I made it clear. I want to go out tonight, to celebrate.”

Rannie lit candles. “We are celebrating. I’m making Chinese, your favorite.”

Lisette sighed and plopped into a chair. “I don’t know why you think it’s my favorite. Yes, I like it occasionally, that doesn’t mean I love it over everything else.”

Rannie sat down in front of his spring roll and looked up at Lisette. She was beautiful in the flickering light, her fair cheeks stark against her deep, crimson lips. Nearly perfect. Only missing a smile.

Lisette looked away.

“Did I do something wrong?” Rannie asked.

Lisette shuddered, “No, I…” Her voice trailed off.

“I think we need to talk,” Rannie said. “We’ve had a lot of problems, lately. Most of that is my fault–”

“No, Rannie, that’s not true–”

“Please, let me finish. I’ve been trying to improve. I’ve been exercising, and,”—smiling, he pointed to the roll— “eating better. And I’ve been trying to work on my baggage. Lisette, I’ve been doing all of this because of you. Because you inspire me. Because you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. And because I’ve realized something,” he said. “I love you.”

“Oh, god.” She was crying, black mascara tracks marring her perfect cheeks. “I cheated on you.”

The words hung in the air. Rannie stared at his plate, suddenly nauseous. He’d thought, for a small while, that maybe something like that… but no, it was all so absurd. Cheated on? In his fantasy? And, ridiculous on top of ridiculous, he found out over candlelight and homemade Chinese food.

I’m not the kind of guy who’s supposed to do this sort of thing, he thought, and now I’m paying for it.

“Rannie?” Lisette asked. He hadn’t noticed her stand, but she stood beside him now, her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, so, so sorry. It was just once, about a month ago. Professor Carroll. I thought it might help… oh, god, I don’t know what I thought, it was so stupid, but we’d just had a fight and…”

Rannie pulled his shoulder away. “Take it back,” he said, squealing his words despite himself. “Take it back.”

“I wish I could, you have no idea, but what’s done is done.”

“Take it back,” Rannie said, more strongly. He looked up at Lisette, her face blurred through tears and wavering candlelight. “Do as I say. Do as I command. You’re mine, do you hear me? Take it back!”

“You’re scaring me.” Lisette backed from the table.

Rannie stood up. “You’re going to take it back,” he said. “I’ll make you.”

“What are you going to do? Stay away from me.”

Rannie moved forward.

She backed away step for step, her eyes wide in fear. He cornered her against the wall.

Rannie raised his hand and extended two fingers. Lisette cringed. The room went dark.

Outside for a moment, Rannie readjusted the TLF and came back in.

Lisette stood there, smiling.

“Rannie,” she said, “I’m so glad you’re back. Our spring rolls are getting cold.”

“Never mind that. What you said before, about… your professor. Take it back.”

“Of course. I would never do such a thing, not in a thousand years. I love you far too much! I don’t know why I said those things, but I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“We’ll see,” Rannie said. “For now, clothes off and on the table.”

Lisette smiled happily and pulled her top over her head. “Face up or face down?” she asked.

SciPhiSeperator

Rannie couldn’t bring himself to go back for weeks. He tried distracting himself with school, with work, with friends, but Lisette never left his thoughts, or his dreams.

Always in the back of his mind was the end of his six-month subscription, and how he needed to collect his refund before then. Then she would be terminated, erased permanently from their databanks. It would be as though she had never existed, as in many ways she actually never had.

But Rannie also knew that in another and wholly real sense, she would always exist, and that future lovers, if he ever had any, would eternally be compared to her and found lacking.

Rannie stayed away until the last day remaining on his account. Knowing that Lisette would haunt him forever unless he found some small measure of closure, he returned for the last day of her artificial life.

He stood in front of the pod and looked at the TLF dial set at 0, just as he’d left it. He remembered that night and felt ashamed. It was supposed to be a victory over her of some kind, but there could be no victory, he realized, because there was no her. He’d exchanged Lisette for a puppet, an effigy, and his masturbatory act left him feeling hollow and small.

Afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself even to look at her — just walked out and never returned.

Rannie set the dial to 10.

He found Lisette in her bedroom, lying facedown atop the covers. She was quietly sobbing.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked up. “I’m glad you’ve come back. There’s something I’ve needed to say.”

He sat on the bed. “Please, say what you have to. I’m not going anywhere.”

Lisette chuckled through the last of her tears, wiping them on the back of her hand. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re leaving my house, and you’re never coming back. You raped me, Rannie.”

Rape? That was never–

She continued: “But before you go, I want you to know how happy I am that this is over. How relieved. I admit that for a time, I loved you. I don’t know why, but I did. No woman in her right mind should love you. Not because you’re fat. You are, but that’s not why. And not because you’re lousy in bed, even though that’s true, too. No, it’s crazy to love a guy like you because there’s no you to love, Rannie. Not really. All you are is an overstuffed bag of hurt feelings, puppy-dog expressions and impossible expectations. You think that because you exist — just because you exist — you deserve to be loved. As though love should just be given to you, no matter who you are. Well you don’t deserve my love. You never did. Now get out of my life.”

Rannie took his last look of Lisette, her eyes hard and cold, and stumbled his way out of her bedroom and down the stairs. He was outside the house before he remembered where he actually was and signaled the program to end.

Rannie took out his transaction chit and marched past the rows of pods, entering the sales floor of the Love Guaranteed facility. In the corner was the customer service line, currently empty, and behind the counter stood the same salesman who had convinced Rannie to upgrade.

Rannie headed for him.

“Hello, sir,” the clerk said, grinning. “How can I help you today?”

Rannie held up his chit and the clerk took it wordlessly, swiping it into his system.

“Ahh yes, I remember you,” the clerk said, studying the data. “Oh my, what timing. The last day of your service — the final possible moment for a refund on your introductory membership. I expect that’s why you’re here? You didn’t find love?” His flat tone suggested he’d seen this before.

Rannie looked at the clerk’s video tie, replaying their ads, guaranteeing love. It was absurd, he realized: love wasn’t something you could purchase, or even be given. It was something only truly experienced in the giving. And if that were true, then maybe the object of that love didn’t actually matter.

He thought of Lisette, angry on the bed, hurt by what he’d done, and… right about the kind of man he was. The kind of man he had been.

“No, I did. I found love,” he said.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, sir. The terms of our guarantee are–”

“I don’t want a refund,” Rannie said. “I don’t want to cancel. Actually, I want to renew. As much as I can afford.”

“Oh,” the clerk said, “that’s wonderful news! I’ll input the codes and get you started immediately. Would you care to design a new girlfriend? We’ve found that most of our clients prefer some variety in–”

“No. Memory, hair color, everything the same,” Rannie said, thinking of Lisette’s smile. He was determined to see it again. “I have some loving to do.”

Food for Thought

“Love Guaranteed” explores several philosophical themes about the possibilities of virtual reality, the nature of free will, and the ethics of dealing with “artificial” entities. Is Lisette ever a person? Is Rannie right to respond to her emotionally? Was his action truly “rape”? The story also deals explicitly with questions about the nature of love. Is Rannie correct in his epiphany, that it is not so much the object of our love which matters, or “being loved,” but the fact that we experience love for another? Is he right to want to change himself? Is that desire altruistic — “for her” — or is he more selfishly motivated? If so, is it moral?

About the Author

T.C. Powell starves full-time and is a freelance writer on the side. He has been published by Flash Fiction Online, New Myths, Big Pulp, Every Day Fiction, and others. Additionally, he has twice been selected as a Writers of the Future Semi-Finalist, and his short story “Natural Forces at Work” was selected as the June 2015 winner of the Penn Cove Literary Arts Award. His woeful web presence can be found at http://tcpowellfiction.blogspot.com.

Downloadable Copies



EPUB MOBI PDF

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*