Microserfs

"Here." She greedily snatched the group picture taken at a barbecue at Mom and Dad's earlier on in the year. Nine of us were in the photo, but she spotted Michael right away. I think I had just transacted the most bizarre matchmaking transaction in the history of love.

"That's him. . . there."

"Yup."

"Dan, you're gonna think I'm an asshole, but I had a dream, and I knew that's what he looked like. I put a diskette under my pillow for weeks waiting for a sign, and it came to me, and here he is. I'm taking the photo."

"It's yours."

She looked at Michael's image. She was tentative and girly. "How old is he?" Her voice up-inflected at the end.

I was slightly drunk, and I laughed and I said, "He's in love with you, if that's what you want to know."

She got all cocky again.

She grabbed my right hand and shouted, "Arm wrestle!" and after a two-minute tussle (thank heavens for the gym), broken up only because a group of drunk engineers lollygagged up to our table and one of them barfed one table over, cutting the moment short, did we speak again. "It's a draw," she told me, "but remember, I'm younger than you and I'm only getting stronger. So tell me about . . . Michael." She paused to think this over - the name. "Yes. Tell me about Michael."

The waiter brought us both beers. She clinked mine so hard I thought it would shatter and she said, "Tell me again, what does Michael feel? You know - about. . . me?"

"He's in love."

"Say it again."

"He's in love. Love. L-O-V-E. Love, he loves you. He's going to go insane if he doesn't meet you."

She was as happy as I've ever seen another human being. It made me feel good to be able to say this with a clear heart.

"Go on," she said.

"He doesn't care who you are. He only knew your insides. He's smart.

He's kind and he's always been a good friend to me. There is nobody like him on earth, and he says that you're the only reason he stays tethered here to the planet." And then I told her the diaper-and-spaghetti-straps scenario.

She leaped backward into her seat.

"I'm gonna fuckin' explode! Dan! I'm gonna tell you, I'm in love, and I'm in love like an atomic bomb detonating over industrialized Ontario, so watch out world!"

I realized that Michael was BarCode's first love, and I realized that I was seeing something special here, as if all of the flowers in the world had agreed to bloom just for me, and just for once, and I said, "Well, I think it's mutual. Now could you relax just a bit more, Amy, because you're frankly scaring the daylights out of me, and I don't think my right arm can deal with another wrestle."

She gushed a bit, flush with happiness. She sat and smiled at the under-grads who, it seemed, regarded her with a no small tinge of fear. She surely must be some sort of campus legend.

"You're the bearer of hot news, and I'll always remember you for that, Dan," and she kissed me on the cheek and I thought of Karla, and my heart felt so happy yet faraway from her.

"Man, I'm so happy I could crap," she said, "Hey - over there-that table of engineers - let's go trash 'em!"

SATURDAY

(one week later)

Michael and BarCode - excuse me - Amy - are now engaged. Amy and Michael have been having a John-and-Yoko lovefest at the Residence Inn Suites down in Mountain View. Karla and I went to visit them, and their suite was all a-rummage with pizza boxes, diet Coke cans, dirty laundry, unread newspapers and gum wrappers. Michael has transformed from a lonely machine into a love machine.

People!

Amy, 20, is going to finish her degree in computer engineering, and is going to come work for us starting in May. We're all in love and awe and terror of her. She and Michael together are like the next inevitable progression of humanity. And the two of them are so happy together - seeing them together is like seeing the future.

* * *

Oh - here's something I forgot to write last week. At the bar, I asked Amy what it was - or rather, how it was that two people could not know each other and fall in love and all of that. She told me that all her life people had only ever treated her like a body or a girl - or both. And interfacing with Michael over the Net was the only way she could ever really know that he was talking to her, not with his concept of her. "Reveal your gender on the Net, and you're toast." She considered her situation: "It's an update of the rich man who poses as a pauper and finds the princess. But fuck that princess shit - we're both kings."

We both got drunker and she said to me, "This is it, Dan. This is the way I wanted to always feel. This is it."

"What?"

"Love. Heaven is being in love, and the love never stops. And the feeling of intimacy never stops. Heaven means feeling intimate forever." And I can't really say I disagree.

* * *

Later on tonight, Michael stomped into the office in a way he never has before, clapped his hands, and shouted, "Troops, let's make these machines do something they've never done before. Let's make them sing."

* * *

Melrose

Voyager

Melrose

Voyager

"Press pound now..."