The Emoticon Generation by Guy Hasson

Author:Guy Hasson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Short Stories, Anthologies & Short Stories, Anthologies & Literary Collections, General, Anthologies, Science Fiction, Anthologies & Literature Collections, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: infinity plus
Published: 2012-12-10T05:00:00+00:00

ALL-OF-ME™

I remember perfectly the moment it all started.

The moment was so innocent, so full of love and (somewhat) lust, that I couldn’t possibly have suspected anything.

But I think that even then I knew Melanie had an ulterior motive. Because when she sat on my knee, time skidded to a halt.

Maybe it was something in the way she carried herself or the way she spoke. In any case, I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. And I ignored it. And with a little nudge the ball began to roll...

~

We were at my house, Melanie and I. It was the last week of April, a week before my thirty-third birthday.

We had just finished dinner. I stretched on the couch and turned on the news. Melanie muted the TV, sat on my lap, smiled at me, and—And time suddenly stopped.

My nerves exploded. I felt each millimeter of her fingers on my neck; I felt the distribution of her weight on my leg; her smell overpowered me; I saw each crinkle, each freckle, each imperfection of her skin; and my libido skyrocketed.

“I have a birthday gift for you,” she purred, running her fingers through my hair.

“Really?”

“It’s amazing!”

“Isn’t it too early?”

“Oh, don’t you worry. You’re going to get it next week. But,” she ran her fingers through my hair, “I need your cooperation.”

“No problem. Tell me what it is, and I’ll help you.”

She smiled and kissed me. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on,” I put my hand on her knee and slowly worked my way up. “Tell me.”

“I’ll give you a hint,” and she bit her lip as I was getting warm.

“Fine,” I smiled.

“Ever wonder how you would have come out if you’d been raised by different parents, or if you’d made different choices in life?”

“Sure.”

“Well, you’re going to find out.”

“What? How?”

“Give me the morning before your birthday, and you’ll see,” and she kissed me to shut me up. It worked.

~

On Tuesday morning Melanie took me, of all places, to the hospital.

She rushed me through to some underground floor. I couldn’t get exactly which division it was; all I could see was a makeshift sign, saying: ‘All-Of-Me™’.

“What the hell is that?” I asked.

“Who knows,” she said, as she pushed me on past a few doors and into another corridor.

We arrived at some sort of reception. “Hi,” Melanie approached the receptionist, as her friendly business self, the personality that made her so good at her job. “We’re Jake Whitford. We have an appointment at ten.”

“Oh, yes. Doctor Majors can see you now. Second door to your right.”

“You’re taking me to see a doctor?” I asked.

“Second door,” Melanie grabbed my arm and hauled me into the doctor’s office, “to our right.”

The man inside was wearing a white doctor’s coat, but he couldn’t have been more than twenty-two.

“Ah,” he stood up as he saw us. “I’m Doctor Majors. You must be Jake Whitford,” he offered his hand.

“Yes,” I shook it, “but—”

“Good. Take your clothes off.”

“What?!”

“And wear this,” he gave me that green patient’s thing with the open back.

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