AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mr. Ash,” the voice said again. “Is everything all right, sir?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said, quickly tapping in the last few notes of his rough draft.
Powering down his bracelet, he looked up to see who was talking.
But no one was there.
“I am Oberon,” the voice said. “I am the AI who created the Center, and I will be your host while you are here. Your match is awaiting you in the cottage.”
An AI host?
The high-end places usually shelled out for the personal touch, and left the AI to the boring stuff. And for what he was paying…
A shimmering trail appeared in the sand, like a line drawn by an invisible hand.
Jubal followed it with his eyes and saw it was leading to a sort of shack on the beach.
“Right this way,” Oberon said. “Once you arrive, the biological staff can explain in more detail if you aren’t yet comfortable talking with an AI being.”
Jubal blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected the thing to be aware enough to pick up on his discomfort.
“Sorry, man,” he said automatically. “Force of habit.”
“I am aware that many of my less-endowed brethren work in customer service,” Oberon said, in a tone that really sounded mournful. “Bad stereotypes can be hard to shake. But I will endeavor to demonstrate my helpfulness to you, Mr. Ash.”
Jubal chuckled.
Bad stereotypes can be hard to shake.
He remembered being a little kid heading to school for the first time, excited to learn.
But as soon as the teacher heard his last name, she had made her assumptions. It sure didn’t pay to have a passel of mean cousins and a big sister with a big mouth. His shabby clothes and too-small shoes didn’t help his case either.
“Then I’ll endeavor to keep an open mind, Oberon,” he said as he followed the path.
“Thank you, sir.”
He swore the AI sounded pleased. But that couldn’t be right, could it?
When he reached it, the door to the shack opened for him, and he blinked again, getting used to the dim, cool space.
It was set up like a hole-in-the-wall bar, the kind with lit-up draft signs on the walls and a ten-ball table in the middle of the sticky floor. Just the kind he loved, but hadn’t been anonymous enough to enjoy for a long time.
Sitting at the bar was a Terran woman. She perched on a bar stool, her feet not even touching the floor. Her face was hidden by a curtain of long, dark hair.
Was this his match? She was so tiny. But he supposed all Terrans were, compared to Maltaffians.
As he stood there staring, she turned to him.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment as her dark blue eyes locked with his.
Her hair was still swirling with her movement, and he swore he could smell it - a hint of something sweet and alluring in the air.
He blinked and the spell was broken.
His feet were already moving him closer of their own accord, as if he couldn’t get to her fast enough.
3
