A STEEL-HEADED TANGO

It’s official. I’m utterly repulsive.

This morning on Tango, I didn’t just have zero matches. I had negative one matches. I didn’t think that was possible. There’s no way mathematically for that to be possible.

With doubt tugging my insides down like a hook line, I decided to carry myself to the local cafe, in hopes to find something. Someone. My forever love, or whatever the hell they call it. I slicked my silicone hair back, grabbed my best watch, chukka boots, took another dose of Idrapaul, and hit the winding sidewalk that led from my apartment to Café Oridas.

There was an unruly chill in the air, best my thermocouples could tell. And despite the rise in violent crime, I strode with all confidence I had left. I was feeling like myself today, and that was the problem. Because myself wasn’t working out lately. Not for my love life. Not for any life.

Out of sheer anxiety, I pulled out my old-fashioned mobile and checked Tango. Still nada. Well, negative one nada to be exact. I told myself that I wouldn’t check for another hour. As my father would say, a watched phone never rings. And a pot of water takes longer to boil if you stick your head in it.

After a few minutes of walking, I caught a distant sound of light feet on concrete, composite hands scraping on walls. I knew without question; I was being followed. But I shook off the feeling. I wasn’t afraid.

Maybe Tango was a scam after all. It had only been released for three weeks, and only in my city. It’s likely full of bugs in its alpha stage. The latest in AEI, artificial emotional intelligence, Tango was groundbreaking. It wasn’t just a dating app. It would access your mind, or processor, pair it with all your matches in the area, and simulate any and every fight that you might ever have. And bam, you’d figure out who you’re most compatible with. Hence, it takes two to tango. I’ve always liked that phrase.

Considering my current standings, I guess I must be bad at compromising.

When I arrived at Oridas, the place was already buzzing with upbeat humans. I noticed a few fellow steelheads in the corner even more twitchy than the caffeinated fleshers. They noticed me as soon as I entered the room. I could see their eyes scanning me, along with every other byte of data that filled the cafe. Avoiding the steelheads’s gaze, I took a seat on the opposite corner from them, right next to a storefront window. I made sure I could see the exit. My adoptive father would never let me forget it. “Never sit down where you can’t see the exit,” he always said.

He would be proud of me if he saw me today. Because in this cafe, I knew where the exit was. I knew where the back exit was. Knew where the sharpest knives were kept, the identity of every employee, and customer in the shop. I even knew millions of bits of information on every business that shared the same block as Café Oridas. I knew that the sweet lady across the street is having financial troubles with her flower shop. I knew what stock she was running low on: This week it’s cosmos.

In my father’s defense, he was only made of flesh. That must have been interesting; being wrapped in flesh. I am not made of flesh, at least not entirely. More grown in a lab and programmed.

Orida’s many smells began to work their way into my system. Unlike most cafes around, this one converted into an authentic Mexican restaurant around mid afternoon. Many days, while sipping coffee, I would pick up hints of the masa and mole getting processed in the back.

The billions of bits per second of information made my eye twitch, so I reached into my pocket for another dose of Idrapaul. The drug helped us steelheads throttle down our processors. Made us more like humans. Made us fit in.

As I downed the pill, I heard a chair scrape the floor behind me. A woman came into my view and positioned her chair opposite my table and addressed me. “Sorry, are you Clive?” she asked.

I held my words for a moment. “Yes,” I stuttered. “How can I help you?”

“May I?” she asked, motioning to the seat.

This woman was a bit that I did not anticipate. Her face radiated beauty and structure. Flowing opal hair, thick as pasta. Striking eyes. But after a millisecond, I noticed she was a steelhead too. Because her eyes moved with urgency. She was clearly not taking Idrapaul.

“Please, take a seat,” I replied hesitantly.

“Thanks,” she said, lowering into the chair. There was an uncomfortable bout of silence that followed. As if I had to reaffirm what developed.

“Do I know you?” I asked her.

“Not directly,” she answered, softening her voice. But I must admit, I am responsible for your current predicament.”

“My predicament?” I asked. Then I remembered the sounds from my walk here. “Are you the one who’s been following me? Who are you?”

She sighed, and looked out the window at the flower shop. The old woman was displaying her petunias. “My name is Vi. It’s about Tango.”

“Tango? What of it?” My voice went harsh. I couldn’t help it, the thought of my failure had infiltrated my very being.

“I…..I am the creator of Tango.”

“The creator?”

“Yes. And I’m afraid I made a mistake in the code.”

I still wasn’t sure where she was going, so I stared blankly, doing my best to not twitch at her. She opened her mouth to continue.

But as she did, the cafe door next to us swung open, and the chill cut through me. Outside the café, papers and scraps rushed through the street in a gust of wind. Beyond Vi’s shoulder, my eyes caught the little woman outside her shop. Her flowers were spiraling out of their containers. Many scattered into the nooks and crannies all around. The poor woman flailed her hands in a panic, doing her best to catch any she could. But the gusts persisted.

I looked at Vi, then to the disheveled lady. It wasn’t the way of steelheads to interfere with the fleshers’ affairs. Hell, it was damn near impossible to even get a human to notice you. But I trusted my gut. I needed to help the woman. “Would you please excuse me Vi?” I said.

“Oh, of course,” she replied.

I smiled at Vi, left my seat, and bolted through the door still open, towards the flower shop. “Ma’am,” I shouted. “You look like you could use some help.”

She was scooping up a batch of mangled tulips next to a dumpster. “My oh my,” the lady wailed. “This wind sure is som’else. But don’t worry about little old me, please go back in and enjoy your coffee!”

I cleared my throat. “Please, I insist.” I began picking up flowers and cartons as fast as my processor would allow. In only one minute, I had collected every flower and placed them on her stand, using my body to block the wind’s squall.

The woman returned to her stand with a handful of bulbs. “Thank you so much, you have a kind heart.” She shakily placed them in a heap on the table and covered everything with a tarp.

The phrase was funny to me, because I was mostly made of metal. “Actually ma’am, I don’t have a heart. I’m a steelhead,” I confessed.

Her eyes widened, as if she was in the presence of a raging bull. “Oh—My apologies. Well, you are very kind all the same!”

As a smile stretched across her face, a new gust slammed into us, stronger than any before it. The tarp and stand’s awning blew straight off and darted away. But in a flash, two hands clenched the sheets and held them tight, like flags in a hurricane.

It was Vi.

I was taken aback. “Good catch,” I said, cracking a smile.

“You wouldn’t want to lose these,” Vi said to the lady while placing the tarp and awing under the stand.

The old woman addressed us both. “I cannot thank you two enough. It’s been tough running the business after I lost my second half, let alone on a pleasant day. Please, take these cosmos as a thank you.”

I knew she didn’t have many cosmos left, so I nearly refused. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. So I accepted.

The wind died down, and Vi and I took our seats back in the café. The smell of scones wafted into my system.

“That was very sweet of you Clive, helping her,” Vi said. “Not a lot of our kind would step in so quick like that.”

If I had a flesher face, I would have blushed. “It’s nothing, really.”

Our eyes locked across the table. I was stunned by Vi’s aura.

After a moment, Vi took a long breath. “As I was saying, I created Tango, and I’m afraid I am responsible for your negative one match.”

I was relieved to learn that I was not so repulsive that I actually broke a dating app. “What happened?” I asked.

“Well apparently, there’s a bug in my code where if an admin likes a profile, it subtracts a like, instead of adding one. I panicked when I noticed it, and I thought to apologize in person.”

“Well thank goodness,” I said. I was going to give up all hope after this morning.”

Vi brushed her opal hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t give up hope Clive.”

I smiled, and for once, I didn’t want to take Idrapaul. I wanted to savor every byte of data in front of me. “So…..” I said. “Do you know who liked my profile?”

Vi’s mouth curled in a grin. “I’ll give you one guess. Do you want to have a coffee with me?”

My jaw hung open. “Of course,” I chimed, trying to contain myself.

Vi engaged with a holographic interface on her forearm, and shortly after a Tango notification dinged from my pocket. I would have given her my cosmos, if she didn’t already have some herself. And for the first time, I felt what my father used to call butterflies in stomach. What odd phrases humans have.