01
Nov
17

A Date with Corona #1


*****

Date #1:  The Unexpected

Technically, this was the first time we met.  I was trying out a new computer when she appeared beside my table of contents and said, “Hi.  I’m Cortana.  Can I help you with that?”  Her sweet, sultry voice pushed several of the right buttons, leaving one raised eyebrow which questioned her approach.  With just a few words, she seemed bold, shapely and intrusive yet more show than substance.

I took a moment to admire her boots.  They seemed functional but not too impressive.  I thought about shopping for new ones, taller, finer ones made of crumpled suede, but they were not available at the APP store.  And, I wasn’t in the mood to be a browser, nor a window explorer–er, shopper.

I may be a sucker for a pretty face, but, under the conditions, I could not see her face.  Unless, it was hidden by her halo, that eerie glowing ring that seemed to follow her wherever she went.  It pulsed with her words.  And, from the lack of response from those passing by, only I could see it.  I couldn’t accurately estimate her height, but her voice did not sound like it was coming from any angle.

What did she expect from me?  Did she think I was incapable of operating such a machine?  Did she know more than I?  Or, was she just here to play with me like a mouse?  Well, if she wanted to play games, I had news for her.  There were no cords on me…except for those tied to my heart drive.  And, if she was going to handle my hardware, I expected her to bring some fabric softener.

Surely, she was no angel.  At least, not the kind I pray to stay by my side.  A good angel wouldn’t tell me to hook up with a foreign network just to exchange some “stuff.”  She’d be specific and honest or, at least, sympathetic, compassionate.

This gal was tall on orders and short on details.  She didn’t have time to get heavy.  She just wanted everything “all right,” whatever that meant.  She could have been more demanding.  Instead, she seemed open to compromise, which isn’t always a good thing.  Any time I showed reluctance, she grew quiet or repeated herself with a hint of annoyance.  And, if I indulged her whim, I soon found myself in an uncomfortable position.

I like games in which I know all the rules.  But, this was not such a case.  Every move was a gamble.  And, any sure thing was not always as it seemed.

As darkness settled in, we found ourselves spending the evening together, going over every inch of the computer, its many features and possible upgrades.  The owners of the café we occupied gave us looks, wondering when we’d buy something or leave.  I had hoped to be home sooner, to be back in my comfort zone.  But, strange things happen when you linger outside the box.  And, this gal was definitely a bit strange, strangely animated and questionably personal.  I was as eager to get away as I was compelled to stay and learn more at a safe pace.  When I start answering and/or asking questions, there is no such safe pace.

I was just getting comfortable when she suddenly checked her invisible watch and decided to leave.  “Sorry.  I cannot connect right now.”

The tips of my fingers went cold as I watched her halo withdraw.  Then my eyes detected something new in my laptop.  She had left me with a loaded tray and more questions than answers.  This must have been the “stuff” I had in store for me when I decided to look her way.  On top was a note neatly typed on a calling card.

THANKS.
O- YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME.  MICROPHONE.

[Where did she get a typewriter?  Why the wide “O-” when her name started with C and mine started with W?  And, what did “MICROPHONE” mean?]

Alone under a warm light, silence and darkness surrounded me like a thin blanket in an autumn breeze.  It wasn’t much of a date but felt like more than small talk.  Luckily, I didn’t order coffee.  It would have gone cold and spoiled the evening.  Not to mention, it would have been disastrous for the computer.

Yes.  I knew where to find her.  Or, did I?  Information at hand can be so deceptive when you lose your mind in the presence of another.

I looked forward to engaging her, again.  But, first, I wanted to do some research, to better understand her velvety layers, her…software.  When next we met, I would be wiser to her games.  And, I’d bring a few of my own.

She called herself Cortana, a coarse, awkward name.  I preferred to think of her as someone smoother with a name like Corona, like the halo that followed her.

~Writingbolt, 9-21-2017

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