Love Is... (28 page)

Dominic glanced down and shrugged his shoulders. ‘It's been twenty minutes since we last saw a suitcase. Maybe we should just leave your details and head off.'

I sighed and then checked the time on my phone. There were three text messages from Professor Takahashi's secretary,
asking us to confirm our whereabouts and also a missed call from Victoria.

‘OK then,' I said, shoving my phone into my pocket. ‘I'll guess Japan will have to learn to love my skanky old fleece.'

Dominic laughed. ‘It's Nick I feel sorry for, marrying a hottie and ending up with a hiker.'

I slapped him on the arm, then sent him off to register my lost suitcase with the relevant personnel.

While he was gone, I called Victoria to quiz her about the upgrade.

‘Darling!' she said. ‘So lovely of you to finally call me back.'

‘Sorry,' I said. ‘I've just been so busy with this research.'

‘I know,' she said. ‘Nick told me you were in Iceland, of all places.'

‘Nick?' I asked.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I spoke to him last night.'

‘Last night?'

‘Are you going to repeat everything I say?'

‘Only if it doesn't make any sense. Why are you speaking to Nick? And why did you upgrade my flight?'

She let out a sharp sigh. ‘I've been speaking to Nick because you weren't answering my calls. Which is beyond rude, given the predicament you've left me in. As for the upgrade, I thought you might need some time away from your travelling companion to reflect.'

‘What are you on about?' I shook my head. ‘And what predicament have I left you in?'

She let out a sharp sigh. ‘Renting out your house to that trollop.'

‘Who?' I asked, briefly distracted by the sight of Dominic waving his arms around at a staff member.

‘Can't remember her name: short, big boobs.'

‘Kerry?' I asked, one eye on the staff member, who was now nodding at Dominic.

‘Yes. Her.' She let out another sigh. ‘It appears Mike has fallen for her pathetic “my husband died I'm lost and all alone” bullshit act.'

‘It's not an act. Her husband did die.'

‘Yes, well, she can't have been too devastated.' Victoria then put on a little girl voice. ‘“I'm all sad and grieving but still, I have big breasts and I like to fuck.”'

‘No. She wouldn't do that.'

Victoria swallowed, then cleared her throat. ‘She came around asking to borrow a screwdriver. Such a cliché.' She huffed. ‘Anyway, now Mike's under the impression he's some sort of DIY superhero, saving a damsel from the distress of unaligned shelves. Every night he's over there with his spirit level, claiming he's building a kennel for the hound or a tree house for her son, but I'm not an idiot.' She paused. ‘You have no choice but to evict her.'

I rolled my eyes. ‘Maybe you should have a chat with Mike first,' I said, ‘and find out what's really going on?'

She laughed. ‘Well, maybe you should have a chat with Nick, find out what's really going on there,' she said, ‘unless you're planning on leaving him for this guy, Donald.'

‘Dominic,' I said. ‘And no, I'm not leaving Nick for him. He's my colleague and we're conducting research.'

I noticed Dominic walking back towards me.

‘Oh.' Victoria sniffed. ‘I was starting to think you and Nick must be on a break. Research on what?'

‘What makes love last.'

‘Ah,' she said. ‘Now it all makes sense. You're both sleeping
with other people to test the concept of an open marriage, I see.'

‘I'm not sleeping with Dominic.'

Dominic, who was now beside me, raised his eyebrows.

Then my stomach tightened. ‘What makes you think Nick is sleeping with someone else?'

Dominic leaned in closer.

‘Oh, nothing,' she said. ‘I must be mistaken.'

‘Who?' I asked. ‘Tell me.'

She let out a high-pitched laugh but it tailed off quickly. ‘Oh, it's just that girl he works with, the pretty one, Jenna something? Haven't you seen them both on Facebook? She's been tagging them together all over Manhattan. And all over your house in Park Slope too, it would seem. Looks as though she stayed over last night.' She paused. ‘Anyway, must go. Mike's home.'

I went to speak but before I could form the next question in my mind, she'd hung up the phone.

I stood motionless while my mind tried to process Victoria's words: ‘Jenna'; ‘the pretty one'; ‘stayed over last night'. Then I looked down at my phone. My fingers twitched, previously indifferent, now desperate to dial Nick's number. I wondered what he would he say. It was unlikely he'd confess infidelity over the phone. Then my thumb hovered over the Facebook app, envisaging photos of Jenna with her shiny hair and her perky bottom, undoubtedly dressed in gym gear while stretching out her glutes.

Adrenaline shot through my veins and my hands began to tremor. I slid my phone back in my pocket. I didn't need Facebook. Images were already racing through my mind, merging together to create my own movie of Nick and Jenna's romance. Them, chinking wine glasses at some
glamorous client party, running side by side in Central Park, buying fancy cheese at a farmers' market, snuggled up on our sofa watching a documentary. Then arm in arm outside a jeweller's, debating the kindest way to break the news to Nick's neglectful wife. I imagined Jenna's voice to be brimming with cheerleader wholesomeness as she reassured Nick that with her it would be different.

Tears began to well. Dominic put his arm around my shoulder and wiped them from my eyes. I looked up and he pulled me to his chest. The instinct to push away was gone. It felt warm and safe. I leaned into him and he kissed me on the forehead.

‘I'm sure it'll all be fine,' he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. ‘He's an idiot to risk losing you.'

He pulled me in for another hug, then cracked a huge smile. ‘Even with this skanky old fleece.'

Then he took my hand and led me out of the airport.

Chapter 23

W
hen we arrived at Professor Takahashi's Centre for Behavioural-Technological Advancement, his secretary smiled politely, although her eyes betrayed her deep dissatisfaction at our two-minute-late arrival.

‘We are honoured to have you,' she said. ‘Fortunately, he is still able to see you now.' She pointed to a digital clock which counted in seconds.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting when we walked into his office—I suppose a small middle-aged man, wearing a suit and glasses, and sitting at a desk. Instead, Dominic and I were greeted by a man almost as tall as Dominic, with broad shoulders and a young, kind face. He was wearing a white T-shirt and light grey trousers.

‘Good afternoon,' he said.

I offered my hand to shake but he dismissed it. ‘No formalities here,' he said. ‘Now please take a seat.'

I glanced around the room for a chair. There weren't any. I turned to Dominic for assistance. He also looked baffled.
The office looked nothing like an office at all. It was stark white with a square hole the size of a large table in the middle. The walls were smothered in digital screens and there was no furniture.

Professor Takahashi sat down at the edge of the hole, dangling his feet in it.

‘Come,' he said, ‘please sit down.'

I tentatively stepped towards the edge to see that the room was suspended above another floor which had been intricately landscaped and looked to be entirely uninhabited. There were small polished pebbles, beautiful trees with teardrop leaves and tiny twisting branches. In the centre was a water fountain bubbling away like a doll's house Icelandic spring.

Dominic looked up and around. ‘Wow,' he said, ‘this is one serious office.'

Professor Takahashi nodded. ‘For our minds to be inspired,' he said, ‘our environments must enrich.'

Professor Takahashi's secretary came in and handed us each a glass of green tea. She left as efficiently as she had arrived.

‘So where do you keep all your stuff?' Dominic asked.

Professor Takahashi took a sip and then picked up his phone. ‘This,' he said holding it aloft, ‘is my calculator, my filing cabinet, my pen, my brain, my business partner, my confidant, my personal shopper, my friend, and,' he said, tapping on the screen, ‘my lover.'

Dominic sniggered.

Professor Takahashi pointed to the screens on the walls around us. ‘Technology,' he said, ‘can be all things to all men.'

I put my tea down. Some sloshed over the side and onto the white floor. ‘I disagree,' I said.

He turned to me. ‘Of course you do. Because your brain is limited.'

Dominic scowled at him. ‘Ellie is highly intelligent actually.'

Professor Takahashi smirked. ‘And you would say that because your brain is limited too.' He looked around and then down at the garden. ‘Our brains are all limited. We cannot redesign them. However, technology, we can redesign over and over until it is capable of delivering what we want.'

I put my hand up. Professor Takahashi waved dismissively. ‘No formalities,' he said.

‘OK,' I said. ‘I still don't agree. How can a limited brain build technology that is superior to it? That doesn't make sense.'

He smirked again. ‘We cannot run faster than a Ferrari. The designer is always the master,' he said.

I took a breath, still unconvinced. ‘So how does your research equate to love? Do you really believe that love can be technologically enhanced?'

Professor Takahashi nodded. ‘Of course.'

Dominic swung his legs back and forth over the ledge. ‘Or do you mean sex can be enhanced?'

‘No,' Professor Takahashi said, tapping on his phone again. ‘I mean love.' He pointed to a screen on the wall adjacent to us, then to a row of sci-fi like headphones that were hanging next to it.

‘Put them on,' he said.

Dominic grabbed me a set of headphones along with his, and helped me pull down the visor over my eyes. A 3D image of Professor Takahashi's head suddenly appeared in front of us, and began explaining his most recent experiment. The video demonstrated that he and his team had
monitored a thousand couples in love, measuring neurochemical, behavioural and physiological changes, over a five-year period. For the duration, half the groups received Professor Takahashi's technological interventions and the other half received nothing. The results shot onto the screen in 3D glory. The group with the interventions had only a five per cent divorce rate five years later. The placebo group had a thirty per cent divorce rate.

I pulled off the headgear and turned to Professor Takahashi, desperately trying to find fault with his research, to prove that there was more to love than its component parts, but as I let all the information sink in, I knew I would struggle to dispute the evidence.

I nodded my head. ‘This is groundbreaking stuff,' I said.

Then I turned to Dominic, who was removing his headgear.

‘Did you see that?' I asked him. ‘A five per cent divorce rate?'

Dominic ruffled his hair and smirked. ‘I was looking for the naked woman.'

I rolled my eyes and then quickly turned back to Professor Takahashi. My heart was racing. ‘Tell me about the interventions. How do they work? Can I do them? Am I qualified?'

Professor Takahashi tapped on his phone and then looked up at me. ‘They are still in development.'

‘But what are they? Can you explain them? How does the technology work? Can we license it?'

He took in a slow deep breath. ‘Before you ask a question, you must understand why you want the answers.'

‘I do understand,' I said.

He clasped his hands together. ‘You already have love.'

I frowned. ‘Yes, but I want the answers for my clients. That's why I'm here.' I glanced at Dominic, then back at Professor Takahashi. ‘How do you know I have love?'

He smiled and held his arms open. ‘The headsets measure everything. The screen was watching you closer than you were watching it.'

Dominic stopped swinging his legs.

Professor Takahashi continued. ‘Digital communication is a two-way process. The software learns about you as you use it. It's intuitive.'

I shot a sideways glance at the screen. ‘So what did it learn from me?'

Professor Takahashi looked at Dominic and then at me. He tapped on his phone and the screen lit up.

‘Measurements were taken from your eyes, skin, heart, sweat glands and brain waves. Then a series of algorithms can use this information to provide an early warning system for waning love. The technology can then prompt the subject to undertake a specific activity which will trigger vital neurochemicals and physiological processes to maintain the relationship, such as sustained physical contact, therapeutic intervention or even something as simple as a date night.'

He tapped on his phone again and then smiled. ‘The early warning system kicks in at around a number five on the scale.'

I stared at the screen.

Professor Takahashi turned to me. ‘You are very safely at a number nine.'

He pointed to Dominic. ‘Your reading was virtually identical, although you were closer to a ten.'

Dominic glanced at me and his eyes darted down to the water fountain.

Professor Takahashi continued. ‘These are common readings for the early stages of love.'

I sat back. ‘Is ten years early stages?'

Professor Takahashi's eyes dropped down. Suddenly, he seemed as fascinated by the water fountain as Dominic was. Then he looked up. ‘Of course, if these measures are taken in the absence of your partner then you would be in the high-risk category. Naturally, for the subjects of Takahashi technology, the early warning systems would have been triggered in advance, as a preventative measure. Therefore in our study such a situation would have never occurred.'