Love Is... (29 page)

I sipped some more tea, trying again to find fault with his reasoning. ‘But these measures, they can't be that accurate. Love is more than just a bit of sweat and a few fast heartbeats.'

Professor Takahashi looked me in the eye. ‘The software can easily differentiate between sexual attraction and other emotions and drives.' He looked back at me and Dominic, then tapped on his phone. ‘If we further refine the findings to sexual attraction, here are your results.'

The number ten and a graph appeared on the screen. Professor Takahashi gestured to me. ‘Your sexual markers were sky-high, which indicate you have had intense sexual thoughts about a person you are with within the last twenty-four hours.'

My eyes widened. ‘But you can't tell who that person is?'

He nodded. ‘We can tell that it is a person in this room.' He raised his eyebrows. ‘And I doubt it's me.'

Dominic looked at me, barely able to contain his smile.

Professor Takahashi tapped his phone again. ‘And you,' he said turning to Dominic, ‘were having intense sexual thoughts at the time the measurements were taken.'

Dominic's neck vein twitched and he looked back down at the water fountain.

I took another sip of tea.

‘So what intervention would be appropriate for the high risk category?' I asked, quietly between sips.

Professor Takahashi pursed his lips. ‘It depends what anomalies the algorithms detected.'

I coughed to clear my throat, which seemed to be growing dryer by the second. ‘Um, how about one part of the couple having intense sexual thoughts about another person?'

Professor Takahashi scratched his nose. ‘If the urges have been untempered by our early warning system, then our studies have shown that suppression of such desires can lead to resentment and anger in the relationship. To prevent this, in extreme cases, we might look at controlled consent.'

‘Controlled?' Dominic asked.

Professor Takahashi nodded. ‘The potential damage of extra-marital sex can be limited if it is consensual and conducted in a controlled environment.' Then he tapped on his phone again. ‘We have developed a “safe sex” technology that allows users the opportunity to live out their sexual fantasies within the agreed boundaries of marriage.'

Dominic leaned in closer.

Professor Takahashi continued. ‘Users can select their preferred sexual activity and preferred sexual partner. The experience is virtual yet the technology is so advanced that to the brain it is real. To preserve a primary bond while indulging our fantasies, the headgear emits synthesised pheromones identical to those of our partner, so our brain is confused into thinking the sexual act is with them and our
bond is enhanced. Many users will model their sex-partner avatar on their life partner.'

Professor Takahashi jumped up. ‘Follow me,' he said.

He led us through a set of double doors and into a corridor. He pointed to the doors as we passed. ‘Chambers One and Two are in use,' he said. ‘Chambers Three and Four are vacant.' Then he turned to us. ‘Would you like to try?'

Dominic glanced at me as if to glean permission and then back at Professor Takahashi. ‘Sure,' he said, ‘why not?'

Professor Takahashi turned to me and raised his eyebrows.

I shook my head. ‘No thanks.'

He narrowed his eyes as though I'd just rejected his firstborn.

‘At least come and see how it works,' Professor Takahashi said, gesturing for me to follow him and Dominic into the room of Chamber Three.

Once inside, Professor Takahashi pulled open the door to the chamber. It looked like a high-tech tanning booth. He pressed a button and the booth lit up. Then he tapped a password onto the screen and explained how it all worked.

‘First,' he said tapping at the screen, ‘select your preferred avatar from these images. Then,' he continued, reaching for a strange rubber ensemble, which looked like a well-endowed alien had shed its skin, ‘put this on and the headgear too.'

Dominic's eyes widened.

Professor Takahashi continued. ‘If you don't like any of the suggested avatars, then imagine the person you would like in your mind and the headset will interpret it.'

Once the headset was in position, a face closely resembling mine appeared on the screen.

Dominic turned to me and grimaced. ‘Sorry,' he said, then he smiled. ‘Do you mind?'

‘I'd rather you didn't,' I said.

Professor Takahashi looked at me. ‘I'm afraid you can't censor fantasies, it's not healthy for the subject.'

‘Subject? He's a subject now is he?'

Professor Takahashi continued. ‘You can select location—' he tapped on the keyboard ‘—see here: shower, office, bed. And these,' he said, picking up a tangle of wires, ‘are electrodes. They simulate pressure and touch: all the normal sensations you'd experience throughout your body during sexual intercourse.' He pointed to the screen. ‘Remove all your clothes and place the electrodes on the bodysuit here, here, here and here. You see?'

Dominic nodded.

Professor Takahashi scratched his head. ‘One problem,' he said to Dominic, ‘we don't have your partner here to take a pheromone sample.'

Dominic laughed. ‘That's really not an issue,' he said.

Professor Takahashi stared at him for a moment and then continued. ‘The chamber will know when you're ready to start. You can have as many turns as you want. Just press this button when you're done.'

After Professor Takahashi had left the room, Dominic turned to me and winked.

‘Sure you don't want to join me?' he asked.

‘No thanks,' I said, ‘but knock yourself out.'

Outside in the corridor, I stood with Professor Takahashi and stared at the floor.

‘Are you certain you don't want a turn?' he asked.

I shook my head.

‘I think it could be highly beneficial for your dilemma.'

I looked up. ‘What do you mean “dilemma”?'

‘To re-bond with your primary partner.'

I sighed. ‘He's in New York. You won't be able to get his pheromones.'
He's too busy depositing them all over his twenty-five-year-old colleague,
I thought, continuing the sentence in my head.

Professor Takahashi looked to the ceiling. ‘We have something else we could use. It's a hormone called oxytocin, which is—'

‘I know what that is.'

Professor Takahashi continued, seemingly oblivious to my glare. ‘If we release it in the booth at the time of climax, your bond will be re-strengthened.'

I thought for a moment, then took a deep breath, realising that perhaps my marriage could do with some strengthening.

‘OK then,' I said. I walked into Chamber Four, feeling oddly like I was ending my time on death row.

Afterwards, I flung open the door to the booth, stepped out and then slammed it shut, before marching down the corridor searching for Professor Takahashi. I found him in his office, legs dangling over the side of his ridiculous floating bench. Dominic was sitting next to him.

Professor Takahashi removed the headphones he was wearing and looked up at me.

I glared at him, hands on hips. ‘You didn't tell me the avatar could change,' I said, feeling my jugular twitching. ‘At the last bloody minute!'

Dominic leaned back, resting on his arms. ‘So you had a go, did you? Good for you.'

‘No. Not good for me,' I said, temporarily redirecting my glare to Dominic, then back to Professor Takahashi. ‘Thanks to that bullshit booth, I got a dose of oxytocin for the wrong bloody person. Again.' My head throbbed. ‘How is that supposed to strengthen my primary bond, Professor Takahashi?'

Professor Takahashi jumped to his feet and tapped on his phone. ‘This is interesting,' he said, seemingly more focused on digitally documenting my experience than actually helping me. ‘In some resistant cases, the unconscious desires can override the conscious. I should have explained that was a risk. My apologies.'

I tutted loudly. ‘So what do I do now?'

Professor Takahashi glanced at the digital clock on the screen beside him. ‘The effect of the oxytocin will pass,' he said. ‘It needs to be topped up regularly to form a lasting bond, so—' he glanced at Dominic and then back at me ‘—I suggest you return to New York to spend time with your primary partner.'

I sighed. ‘Why do you keep saying “primary partner”? Like I have a secondary, or tertiary bonds all over the globe?'

Professor Takahashi raised his eyebrows. ‘It was your unconscious that sabotaged your treatment, Ellie, not my booth.'

‘Treatment?' My hands were back on my hips. ‘For what?'

Professor Takahashi looked me in the eye. ‘A marriage in crisis,' he said.

Every muscle in my body tensed. I wanted to leap across the hole in the floor and swipe my foot into Professor Takahashi's
face like a character from
The Matrix.
But instead I stood there scowling like a huffy child.

‘Come on, Dominic,' I eventually mustered, ‘we're going.'

Professor Takahashi nodded at our exit, then glanced back down at his phone.

Outside the centre, Dominic hailed a taxi.

‘Come on, grumps,' he said, opening the taxi door for me. ‘You need cheering up.'

‘I'm not grumpy,' I said, getting in. ‘I'm justifiably enraged for being duped by a hyper-sexed tanning booth.'

He climbed in after me, leaned across and dug me in the ribs. ‘It's not your time of the month, is it?' He started laughing loudly.

I glared at him until he stopped. ‘My primary relationship is in crisis. My husband is most likely shagging his Mensa-grade, knockout colleague, and now, nearly halfway through my research, I still have no bloody clue how to make love last. I think I have a very plausible and non-hormonal reason for my mood change.'

Dominic looked at me for a moment, then smiled again. ‘So you admit to being grumpy. A full confession. Excellent. Now we can commence your “treatment”.'

He looked out the window and pointed.

‘We're in Tokyo,' he said and started waving the expense card around. ‘Let's do what the Japanese do best. Let's buy stuff.' Then he turned to me and nodded at my fleece. ‘Besides,' he added, ‘you might need something less thermal to wear tonight.'

I zipped up my fleece defensively and shuffled away from Dominic. Professor Takahashi's words were still darting around in my head. Surely the feelings within us were
more than a collection of variables to be measured and monitored by technology? And was my marriage really in crisis? I wondered. I gazed out the window and thought about Clapham, about Rupert, about our romantic old house. What was it about that life that had made Nick want to escape? We'd been apart only for a few weeks, but he seemed such a distant figure in my mind. I needed to be reminded of him, reminded that we hadn't lost what we'd once had. I turned further away from Dominic, then reached for my phone and dialled Nick's number.

The international ringtone pulsed into my ear as I considered what I might say.

Nick: ‘Hi, sweetheart. How's Japan?'

Me: ‘Great, thanks. I just went into a booth to have virtual sex with you but instead I got another shot of oxytocin at the moment of orgasm when my subconscious flipped your face and body for Dominic's. Because really, I'd much rather have sex with him. So how are you? All OK there? How's Jenna? Still sleeping with her?'

Fortunately it went to voicemail. I left a garbled message asking him if he'd like me to pick up anything from the Japanese shops, as though international commerce were an unrealised notion.

When he saw my expression, Dominic snatched my phone and threw it into my bag.

‘Come on, fleecy,' he said. ‘Last one to Prada is a rotten
tamagoyaki.'

Inside Prada, we wandered around looking at the chicly dressed mannequins.

‘Remind me why we're here again?' I said, fondling a
pink fur scarf. ‘Not sure Prada holds the secret to lasting love.'

Dominic picked up a man's shirt and unfolded it. ‘Thoughts on navy?' he asked, holding it up under his chin.

I was about to say something scathing or sarcastic but when I looked at him, at the deep blue against his tanned skin and hazel eyes, I found myself smiling.

‘Looks good,' I said, quickly realising I was once again under the spell of oxytocin.

He smiled and then handed it to a sales assistant.

‘I'll take it,' he said. Then he walked over to me and linked arms. ‘Your turn now.'

I walked alongside the rails, eyeing the sheer fabrics draped over heavy wooden hangers. I stopped to look more closely at a tailored white shirt. Nick loved the classic look on women. I held it up. It was the kind of shirt Jenna probably wore to work, with just a hint of pert, tanned cleavage.

‘No,' said Dominic, removing it from my hand. ‘Try this on instead.' He handed me a bright orange silk garment. I held it up against me, trying to ascertain whether it was a dress or a top.

I snatched back the shirt. ‘I'll try on both,' I said.

Dominic looked at the shirt and then cocked his head. ‘OK,' he said, grabbing a grey leather miniskirt. He checked the size, then handed it to me, ‘but pair it with this.'

‘Yes, sir,' I said, attempting a salute.

The staff tried to block Dominic from entering the fitting room, but he barged past them claiming he was my stylist and his presence was vital.

I pulled the curtain shut and unzipped my fleece. I had a white vest on underneath and my chest seemed to burst right out.

‘Ooh, hello,' Dominic said, peering through the crack at the side.

‘Sod off,' I said, closing the curtain tighter and covering myself with my arms. I knew I'd been eating like a pig and drinking like a German but I hadn't realised just how much weight I must have gained without twice-weekly trips to my Virgin gym. I pulled off my vest and noticed that my stomach had that well-fed curve to it too.