Waltraut says, “Ben, we’d really love it if you’d get on board with Serafina’s dating app. Our ratings would go through the roof if you did.”
“Your ratings really aren’t my top priority.” I hear the door click shut and Waltraut turns to me. “He’s a total delight, isn’t he?”
“Not the description that came to my mind,” I tell her.
“Whatever he is, the viewers love him, and you, too,” she says. “You’re a real natural at this stuff, you know. Keep it up and you could end up with your own show.” Before I can thank her, Waltraut grabs a woman passing by. “You were told not to cook with cilantro today, right? Hal is severely allergic to it.”
With that, she disappears, leaving me to contemplate the possibilities of my future. I knew when the sun aligned with Neptune, opportunities were going to become abundant, but this is a whole new level of amazing. When my phone pings, I look down to see it’s another message from Ben.
DrBananaPants: I can only spare about 45 minutes on Wednesday. As I’ve previously mentioned, I have an actual job I’m expected to perform.
* * *
LibraGrl: So you said. If you want this to go fast, make sure to clean up your office so we can do a quick switch.
* * *
Dr.BananaPants: Fine.
* * *
Dr.BananaPants: Oh, and I hate chartreuse so don’t bring anything in that color.
* * *
LibraGrl: What was that you said about how open-minded you are?
* * *
Dr.BananaPants: One can be open-minded and aware of his likes and dislikes at the same time.
* * *
LibraGrl: Not if you’ve never tried something first.
* * *
DrBananaPants: Are you really so incapable of agreeing with a simple request? You got your way. We’re doing the silly segment in my office. Just give me this one thing without making a federal case of it.
I don’t respond to his text because, first of all, rude! Second, I have a feeling he’d love chartreuse if he gave it a chance. It’s such a happy color and if that man needs anything, it’s a lift in his mood.
Sixteen
Ben
I arrive at my office at seven this morning to ‘clean it up’ — as Serafina bossily instructed — before starting my day. I refuse to take a second longer than necessary for such an asinine project.
When I woke up this morning, I remembered I was supposed to have already given Ewan my notes on his article for the Many Worlds space site. It’s a piece on the latest determinations about our nearest known Super Earth, Gliese 486. I’ve totally dropped the ball, which is not like me. Of course, I blame Ms. Lopez. My life has been thrown for a loop ever since she entered it.
Setting down the boxes I brought from home, I look around at all the things I’m going to have to remove. The truth is, I love my space as-is. Not the grey walls and fluorescent lighting, but my personal touches really make it mine. My favorite books are on the shelf as well as my collection of miniature rockets that I build in my free time.
Serafina can’t see these after the fuss I made on national television about how I don’t care about ambience. She’d know what a big liar I am if she got a look at my rockets. There are thirty-eight of them.
If the rockets don’t make me the captain of the nerd squad, my complete collection of Star Trek action figures (from the original series obviously, and still in their boxes) would certainly tip her off.
Those are the first to get packed up, followed by my Space Thinking Putty, my astronaut cell phone charger, the mug my mom gave me that says “Warning: May Start Talking about Physics,” and my 3D Solar System Crystal Ball (including all eight of our solar system’s planets — not Pluto, of course, since it’s NOT a planet).
By 7:30, the entire place looks as bare as I claimed it would. All that’s left on my desk is my computer and phone. The only things on my bookshelf are books (Carl Sagan’s greatest hits included). I quickly boot up my computer and bring up Ewan’s article so I can have it done before he gets in.
A sense of dread comes over me as I imagine how starstruck the men on my team are going to be. They talk incessantly about how beautiful Serafina is. Even Carla told me she’s “totally been fangirling over her,” whatever the hell that means. Although in her case, I don’t even mind too much because it’s better than hearing her blather on about Chewy’s digestive tract (but only by a very slight margin).
At twelve thirty, Serafina texts me.
StarNut: We’re here in the lobby. Is there a chance you can help us carry everything up to your office?
* * *
ObiWan: Sure. I’ll be right down to sign you in.
Dammit. She’s early. I quickly toss my coffee cup and sandwich wrapper in the garbage and hurry down the hall to the elevator. When I get off, I see her, looking lovely as usual. (Why does she have to be so darn beautiful? It’s horribly inconvenient.)
Her arms are loaded with two boxes and there’s a teenage girl with her. The girl is holding one end of a rolled-up area rug as she looks around with wide eyes.
“Ben, this is Charley,” Serafina calls out. “She’s my neighbor, friend, and one of the best hackers out there.”
The girl blushes and offers me a shy smile. “She’s exaggerating.”
“Am not. She also got accepted to Yale and she’s only fifteen.”
“Really?” I ask.
Nodding, Charley says, “It’s no biggie.”
“I beg to differ,” I tell her. “That’s a very big deal.”
Serafina smiles down at her companion, looking like a proud mother. “Charley’s a genius. She’s behind the algorithm for the dating feature on my app.”
“Really? What does a fifteen-year-old girl know about fixing people up?” I can’t help but ask.
“Nothing,” she says brightly. “The computer will make the choices based on the data the participants give us when they sign up. You should try it.”
Like I need more people pressuring me to date a strange Capricorn or something. But an intriguing idea pops into my head. What if I sign up for this stupid dating trial using a fake name? I could go on a couple of dates and then call foul on how poorly it works. Then I could tell the world how dating for your star sign is a load of hooey. Hmm, this is certainly something to consider.
I pick up the other half of the rug Charley is dragging and say, “Shall we?”
Leading them over to the elevators, I press the up button, then do my best not to look at Serafina while we wait. When the doors slide open, Charley says, “This is so cool. I’ve never been to NASA before.”
“Not even space camp?” I ask as we step on.
She shakes her head and I start to wonder if maybe her family can’t afford it. Because, honestly, that’s the only reason I can think of that someone wouldn’t go to space camp. “Everyone should get a chance to go to space camp — it’s life-changing. They have scholarships, you know. I can get the forms for you if you’d like.”