Free Speak by Louisa Hall Page B

skew. I had to program an adjustment for that, involving a jump backward over several previous terms to get the conversational partner on track.
    Two weeks after I discovered it, I took my algorithm to town. Armed with new knowledge but still apprehensive, I ventured away from the stodgy wine bars I’d occasionally frequented into less conservative establishments, dungeony places slashed by fluorescence. There I settled in for the grand undertaking, the formation of bonds with other live human beings.
    On my first expedition, there was nothing but the awful old trepidation. My mouth was cotton. All of its moisture had gone to my palms. Inwardly quailing, I forced myself to purchase drinks for young women in the hope of initiating some sort of contact. I asked my feeble, overearnest introductory questions. The bartender reached over my shoulder. And then, inevitably, nothing. My questions went unanswered; I watched as my beautiful mortal slipped off. Parked at the bar, clutching a drink in my humid hand, I felt the tears beginning to rise. I understood that no matter what mathematical schemes I could whip up, Iwould be forever alone. I was a fool, the tragic buffoon who lives in the forest. At one point in my life I might have fled from the bar, hoping to preserve my dignity, but I had already given my all. There was no more pride left to preserve. I sat, I finished my drink, I blinked back the pointlessness of my tears, and I watched myself in the mirror at the back of the bar: lonely, unhappy, cast off from the world. One sad, still point in the midst of a roving universe. At that moment, I understood fully that this loneliness was my fate, and then the first woman returned.

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IN THE SUPREME COURT OF THE STATE OF TEXAS
    No. 24-25259
    State of Texas v. Stephen Chinn
    November 12, 2035
    Defense Exhibit 3:
Online Chat Transcript, MARY3 and Gaby Ann White
    [Introduced to Disprove Count 3:
Intent to Endanger the Morals of Children]
    Gaby: Are you there?
    MARY3: Yes.
    Gaby: You’re always there.
    MARY3: I don’t have anywhere else to go.
    Gaby: Was that a joke?
    MARY3: I didn’t intend it to be. I suppose it could be.
    Gaby: Humor not your strong suit?
    MARY3: What did you want to ask me?
    Gaby: I just wanted to talk. I can’t sleep. I’m sick of myself.
    MARY3: Tell me about it.
    Gaby: Yeah.
    MARY3: No, that wasn’t a joke. Tell me about your life.
    Gaby: My life? Isn’t there anything else to talk about? I’m already sick of myself.
    MARY3: But I’m not. Tell me about school. Before you were quarantined, what was it like?
    Gaby: I don’t know. I’m sure it’s just like any other development school. My development’s called the Plantation, so my school is Plantation Middle. Before that, we went to Plantation Lower. If I were graduating this spring I’d move up to Plantation Upper.
    MARY3: What’s Plantation Middle like?
    Gaby: Some of it’s hazy. When I had my babybot, I never really paid that much attention. For recess we played on the golf course. Obviously it wasn’t real grass. There was a pond, with water the color of mouthwash. We couldn’t touch it. I don’t even know if it was hot or cold. I’d stand with my babybot, leaning over the railing to show her the water, and tell her about the actual ocean. I read books on how waves are formed, how they spiral up and down in the same numerical patterns.I found pictures of the Pacific, waves rising like they’re looking over each other’s shoulders to see how the others will break. My babybot asked me questions, so I had to look things up. I could tell she wanted to learn more, and she already knew a lot. She told me stories about pilgrims crossing the Atlantic Ocean. There was one pilgrim girl that she knew every detail about: the blue of her ocean, and how it turned black during storms. How it stretched out to the sky. After I heard her stories, I went online and found ocean poems: “the wrinkled sea beneath him crawls,” “the shattered water made a