The Mechanical Muse

Chapter 4 (Part 2)

"I was considering getting a doctorate and becoming a professor. I feel like I have so much love for literature, poetry, and critical analysis that it would be a waste to keep it all for myself, and I don't know, I've always thought professors were morally respectable."

"And do they make money?"

Carmen must have sensed I was perturbed, and lightly tapped my shoulder. "I'm just teasing. Anyone as smart as you will make millions."

"If not that, there's always my parents' couch—in that case, sucks to be me."

I went to get my food, Carmen grabbing the same things I did, and we sat down at the corner table away from prying eyes she had picked. Cassandra had rounded features I once thought of as elfin, but Carmen's were sharper—sculpted, hardened. I had to stop thinking of her, when there was someone else demanding my attention. It wasn't my fault their names were so similar. I needed to find someone with a softer name that glided off the tongue.

I stopped chewing and broke the silence:

"So tell me a bit about yourself," I said. "What's your story?"

"So formal—is this an interview? I'm kidding, I'm an open book."

"That's a good question. Read any interesting books lately?"

Carmen laughed, like birdsong. She did have a nice laugh, and a face that looked classical. She would make for a great portrait—if I weren't sore over the insult to my chosen career path, I'd have had Project Narcissus paint her.

"I don't read much. English class in high school really killed my interest. It was hard to, like, relate to the characters. Like The Great Gatsby: Nick talked too much, and Daisy, ugh, she was such a pick-me."

"I loved that book."

"Agree to disagree," she said firmly enough to assert confidence, but with just enough frivolity that I could have ignored her disagreement. It was hard to blame her for anything. My standards were high, and something about her demanded tolerance of her faults.

"I'm going to guess you're aren't a humanities major then," I chuckled.

"I'm an economics major, likely going into consulting—I'm hoping for McKinsey, but I'll settle for EY or KPMG. They hire humanities majors, too—it's not too late for you to switch paths."

No wonder she was soulless.

"Anyway," she continued, "I don't really like books. I like parties. Everyone likes parties though—ooh, what's your favorite alcohol? I like soju."

"I don't have a favorite," I said truthfully.

"You just like getting drunk? I feel that. That's a mood."

"Let me get some more water," I said, excusing myself. In the past I would take caffeine at all hours, but Prof. Rubinowitz's reminder of in aqua sanitas had stuck with me.

As I refilled my cup, I felt a familiar brush against my side, like a shark smelling blood.

"Look who's getting dinner with Carmen Szeto!" Lucy exclaimed. "She has bewitching eyes."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Of course you noticed, you and everyone else who wants her. Be careful: I heard that once she stabbed a girl with scissors. They were at a party, had too much to drink, someone made a pass at a guy Carmen had her eye on, and—"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Oh, I'm just helping a friend out," she said innocently. "But watch out... if you cross her, snip-snip," she laughed, looking at my groin. "So how did you meet her? Eros?"