Key

by Michele deBes

“It should fit.” she said, leaning even closer to the holo display. “Just ease it round a notch.”

Jarod obeyed. His fingers manipulated the joystick so the flouro pink shape rotated before them. A careful nudge and it docked with the receptor sight. A key in a lock, simple, elegant, a stroke of genius.

“We’ve done it.” She breathed.

Cheered by her gesture of camaraderie, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. They had become lovers of late and he felt daring. The rigid muscle and bone locked him out and he withdrew. She was alone in her moment of triumph but he was used to that. He had been her research assistant for years as they worked through every emotion methodically, finding the chemical key to artificially stimulate the experience. Love had been the hardest.

“I’ll try it tonight.” She said suddenly, pushing his hands from the controls and he watched her send the design to the chemlab to be made up.

“I love you.” She said, but her eyes slid away, and he could see her bestow the same loving looks on every object she gazed at.

He sighed and returned to his notes. She insisted he record his impressions of the session to augment the audio visual and medical data.

He wrote ... ‘Although obviously affected by the drug, the subject ... retains the blockage that prevents her from achieving real intimacy with those close to her ...

Goodbye Professor. I can’t help you anymore.

Love

Jarod.’