Calypso-15

6 - Honey Espressos

Mama loved coffee. As a child, I found her interest banal. She talked about it enough that it was a dull fact of my existence. Roast levels, grind size, different machines, different processes of fermentation. I detested burned beans.

Daniel chose a nice place. It was two blocks away from the lab, a large warehouse shared by many establishments. Over their counter, the large metallic letters of CHROME COFFEE hung precariously. Each movement by employees caused at least one of the letters to jiggle. We perched over a very small bar, two blushing pigeons sipping espressos.

"I don't know much about coffee," Daniel polished off the last of the espresso, and I wondered why we had gotten such small drinks in the first place. He had insisted. Lattes would have been so much more social.

"This is pretty good, actually." I wanted to savor this coffee, to savor this moment. It did not feel like Daniel cared. He was busy. Well, so was I. Just two working people, what was that age-old word? Networking?

"Your hours are insane. You're in there all the time. How do you do it?" 

Wilde told me to be suspicious of anyone asking questions about my post. I stared at the bottom of my espresso. "Oh, you know, I just do. There's not much more."

"Can I ask what kind of work you do?"

"No," I said flatly. It was both top secret and highly embarrassing. Just a pair of eyes. 

Daniel lifted both hands off the counter in a conciliatory manner, "No, no, I understand. It's just really hard not be curious about a black box in one of the most sophisticated labs in the world. Not even security cameras in there. Most information flows freely between projects." 

I blinked. That's why Wilde did not know about the original emotion slips. He never mentioned a lack of cameras, but he never pointed any out.

"I wouldn't be poking around," I warned. Calypso already has you on her radar.

"That bad?" Daniel smiled a congenially. It did not reach his eyes. 

"Worse. Do you go to this coffee shop often?" 

"Ah, here and there. The lab coffee sustains me most of the time. And then, you. It's not often that an outsider joins a project. Even rarer that this outsider is my age. It's an institution of bald old men." 

"That's just evolution. We all turn into bald old men eventually," I mused. 

Daniel sputtered out a laugh, pulled out of him involuntarily. "I think understand why they chose you."

"It can't be my remarkable wit," I shifted closer to him. He placed a tentative hand on my thigh, squeezing gently. God, it felt so good to be touched. His curls were perfectly arranged at the top of his head, a painstaking process I was sure he endured every morning. They would smell divine if placed under my nose, like a bouquet. 

"Au contraire," his tone was almost a whisper. Just for me. "A wit is a remarkable thing to have. It requires precise attention to detail." We were almost touching foreheads. The aftertaste of the coffee was sweet, notes of flowers and honey. 

"Would you," my voice nervous, shaking, "like to take this somewhere else? Later tonight? I know the best bars in the surrounding area. Live music, stuff like that."

Daniel squeezed my thigh. His upper arm strained at the fabric of his sleeve. 

"Yes. I would like nothing more." 

...

Wilde stood at the door. He held a clipboard and a pen. Upon seeing me and Daniel, his mouth widened into that cheshire cat smile, "Two peas in a pod, I like it." 

"Sorry to keep you waiting," I rushed towards him. My date waved and walked on. 

"No, no wait. I've been standing here for only a moment. I have some questions to Calypso, that I would like you to ask. Note her words down carefully for me, I care about her syntax and word choices." 

1. How are you feeling?

2. Do you experience visuals of the mind? If so, what are they?

3. How would you evaluate your process of coming into existence? 

The final one stilled me. 

4. On a scale of 1 to 10, please rate your desire for killing.

"You're white as a sheet. I assure you, Calypso-15 cannot kill without express permission. I highly doubt it would kill you. You would already be dead." He lied like he was paid to. I walked in, clicking the government-mandated pen nervously. Calypso stood on perfectly in the middle of the glass, eyes blazing purple. At this point, I was sure that the level of purple in her eyes was synonymous to her level of emotion. 

"I've got some questions for you," I said, reading a small script at the top of the page. "Please answer truthfully, and succinctly. I will write down your answer in full." 

"You little Delilah," was all it had in response.  

"You're hardly Samson" I snorted back. "Get over yourself." I didn't dare look at her, only settled in my chair and clicked the pen a final to to prepare to write. A loud BANG sounded in the room, and I looked up to see Calypso's fist on the glass.

"My questions first." Her fist trembled in a remarkably human fashion. Why were her fingers so slender? Probably made to be nimble and dextrous. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, it doesn't say here that Calypso asks first."

"I don't think you understand what a feeble barrier this is between us, and how I am choosing to respect you by staying in here. You plan to fuck him. Maybe even tonight." 

"Oh, I'm so respected," I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to be forced to write down verbatim what you say if you keep talking." 

"Write it down." 

I became suspicious instantly. "Why?" 

"Little De-li-lah, I don't need your protection."

"Then you tell them," I flushed so hotly I could feel blood pooling over my collarbone. "I'm not even sure what this is." 

"Au contraire, darling," Calypso bowed her head to the side, her eyes dimming. "You know exactly what this is. Attention to detail and all that." 

I slammed the pen down and took a deep breath. This scheming stalker bitch! 

Calypso walked over to the bench and sat down, "I'm ready to start. I need to rescue that pen from your abuse."

The questions were handwritten, the only way Calypso could not know their contents. She was in the network. In their data. In their machines. It was time to get out. I took the clipboard and ran to find Wilde.