The Day I Wore Purple

9.1 Second Lifetimes

Jonathon told Storm his plan to end their marriage.

"Why wait?" she asked. "Just push the button and finish it."

He shook his head. "We're not like them."

"Them" referred to the kids of the zero-boomer generation, the romantic elite of the late 2040s, the founders of the brave new world of love and lust evolving in rapid motion around Jon and Storm, a prehistoric couple who once considered a ten-year commitment to be sacrilege.

Most of their knowledge of modern dating came from their son as they followed—hopelessly—the lightning pace at which he found and discarded love.

Most disturbing to Jon's conservative persuasion was the updated ranking system; a five-star scale featuring cutthroat reviews and a complete breakdown of every aspect of a person's personality; their sense of humor, perceived IQ, sexual performance, commitment potential, recommended modifications, and more.

(Jon was ashamed of the two reviews he had accumulated during his sanctioned affairs. One wrote, "Handsome. Unmodified. Prudish. If you're a girl with daddy issues, this is your man!" The second simply said, "Weak in bed. Refuses to party." The reviews would follow him for the rest of his life.)

Outside the digital realm, there were even more methods and hacks to modern romance: mood tattoos, genital enhancement, extreme body augmentation, flawless birth control, lie-detector scramblers, lie-detector scrambler scramblers, PEC meet-ups, and a dark rainbow of new shades including Snap Dragon, Disco Lemonade, China White, Four Leaf Clover, Poppy Petal, and on and on and on...

Despite the hoopla, week-long commitments, and baboonish genitalia, the biological basis for these rituals was long gone. Sex had finally detached itself completely from propagation. In 2049, the simple morality of George and Susan wasn't just out of fashion, it was impossible.

Jon and Storm stayed clear of the mayhem. They agreed to make their relationship work until the end of their contract, not as a moralistic obligation, but out of genuine respect for one another. How else could they distinguish themselves from the rest?

To their surprise, the countdown spurred the best chapter of their relationship. For three years, the cuddles were warm, the banter was sincere, and their eyes remained unclouded.

2051 / Year 38

August

Today is the day...

The thought woke Hannah at 5:30 AM and followed her through her morning routine.

Today is the day...

Her tiny house had become a catalyst for "one step at a time," smoothing her transition from her past life (culminating with her father's hibernation) to a path of sobriety, celibacy, and peace.

Today is the day Jon's commitment ends.

Never a Red since leaving Masdar; never a Blue, Purple or Yellow. The only shade Hannah ever touched was Alabaster, and only for moments like these.

She sat cross-legged in the soft center of her living room floor, inhaled a solitary burst of White, then waited for her eyes to close.

Anxiety vanished the moment her eyelashes touched. Her heart slowed, not due to a chemical side effect, but because she was in control.

She and Jon rarely communicated in the three years since their banquet hall conversation. Thankfully, she had spent her celibacy re-learning the value of patience. If he needed to wait a few days before calling, it wouldn't be the end of the world. If he had forgotten about her completely, she would learn to accept that too.