Binary Systems [Complete, Slice-of-Life Sci-Fi Romance]

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Harry: Would it be okay if we talk for a minute about how much you're touching my girlfriend?

Claire: Karen, my boyfriend would like you to stop touching me.

Karen: Her hair is too soft, you'll have to find a different girlfriend.

Claire: She just wants me for my conditioner.

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Sunday, November 10th, 2091, about 1:00 pm MST, Montana City

The bed was impeccably made, as Claire's always was, with a sleek gray comforter and an array of precisely arranged throw pillows. Karen had already upended the symmetry, her golden hair spread across the pillow in wild waves beside and under Claire's reclining form, a sharp contrast to the cool, muted tones of the room. Claire's brows, still furrowed, were briefly matched by her friend's as Karen considered what to say to break the silence.

"You know, virtual reality has kind of regressed us as a society," Karen said, apropos of nothing.

Claire frowned thoughtfully. "I think we're about as primitive and egotistical as ever—"

Karen smiled faintly, interrupting. "—No, I meant us—you and me. Remember when we first got cars? How excited we were? We'd meet up at restaurants, bookstores, and libraries. I still remember the time you took me to that cigar shop, just so we could say we'd been to one."

Claire nodded, smiling softly at the memory.

"And now, whenever I visit you, I can always find you in the same place—your room. It's just like elementary school. You were always there, too." Karen hesitated, then added, "I'll be honest, Claire. When I'm not here, I'm either studying, at work, or back in my room. It's the same for me."

Claire twisted her head, looking at Karen's face in profile. "You're saying we've regressed? Gone back to how life was when we were kids?"

Karen nodded slowly. "Exactly. I don't know if that's a bad thing—it's not all bad, but it's different. When I was younger, this isn't what I thought my twenties would look like. I thought I'd be going to amazing parties or...I don't know, maybe I'd be married by now, building my own house. Everything's just so different from what I pictured. What about you?"

Claire made a seesawing gesture with her hand, held straight above them both, on the bed. "Eh, I don't know. I've been preparing to take my place at Binary Systems since—well, since a little after you met me. I always knew we'd have grown-up responsibilities like this. I've spent half my life at the corporate tower, and I guess I always knew I would. But yeah, I remember the coffee shops. I remember enjoying the freedom. Maybe back then, we cared more about freedom than money. Now, I'm saving every cent, and that means less time out."

Claire was saving for her wedding dress. She didn't want anyone but her to have any say about what she wore, so she was going to pay for it from her own account. Karen appreciated that, in a way. It was a very Claire thing to do.

Karen shrugged, her expression forming a cartoonish moue. "I'm not doing what I thought I'd be doing either."

Her degree path had had quite a few switch-backs along her path up to mastery of her chosen field. 'Basic educational requirements' had bitten her thoroughly in the butt.

Claire's voice grew quieter. "I couldn't have imagined meeting Harry, though. And—what we didn't know back then, about what we're not doing now—I don't think it overshadows the good stuff. I didn't know Harry would be this much a part of my life. I didn't know I'd be a homebody, but it's worth the trade."

Karen raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Besides," accused Claire, rolling all the way over, now, to look, "You're not really a homebody. You still spend so much time on campus."

"I do," Karen admitted. "But sometimes I feel like a professor or something. I'm surrounded by these young people who have no idea what they're doing, and here I am, three-quarters of the way through this elaborate plan to change the world, or at least become a cybernetics specialist. They're always talking about parties and dating apps, and I'm over here pulling late shifts and eating lunch out of a vending machine. It's like we're living in completely different worlds."

Claire gestured encouragingly. "And yet, you're a professional woman. You're out there, making money."

Karen laughed lightly. "I'm glorified security personnel, Claire. Chips basically make themselves, I just have to be in the room with them."

They shared a quiet moment. Claire's portable buzzed, but she didn't comment about what it said, just swiping the notification closed. Karen sensed tension.

"How are things with Harry?"

"They're good," Claire replied, but her tone wasn't very expressive. "I'm happy. I am."

Karen gave her a look of quiet concern. "I can see that." She paused, then added carefully, "Still thinking we should stop the stream?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure. Let's kill the one thing Gordon's actually invested in. That's rich."

"Claire." Karen kipped up, landing heavily in the middle of the bed on her bottom, catapulting the lighter girl next to her forward, to land in her lap. Claire's hair, lighter and more muted than Karen's, was a stark contrast—high-end conditioner containing any possible fly-aways from her smooth, high ponytail, eyebrows immaculate and two shades darker, arched with surprise, but her eyes were introspective, unseeing. Karen wrapped her arms around her friend's shoulders, shifting her up into her lap with a modest effort and then holding her there.

Claire looked her in the eyes for a second before looking down and away.

"Of course I'd like to," Claire said, rolling so as to look outward from Karen, leaning back against her like a chair. "We don't have much free time, and we're spending so much of it in VR. But... Harry's numbers are picking up. It might be a good side gig for him. My dream, honestly, would be for him to—well, stay at home more. Maybe even be a house husband if we have kids. I'm not going to be the one spending all my time at home. I can't, not with the company. But I think it'd be good for him to have something of his own."

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Karen chuckled softly. "Sounds like you've got it all planned out. I bet Harry would feel comforted hearing you talk about it like that."

Claire grinned a little wistfully and nodded, since Karen couldn't see her face. "Maybe." Then her expression shifted to a dreamy smile. "I'd dress him up in plaid, you know?"

Karen rolled her eyes, laughing. "Find yourself a man you can dress in plaid."

Claire smirked. "Maybe that's what you're doing wrong—you never tell your guys they'd look good in plaid." She twisted her neck to peer at Karen speculatively. "Gordan would look great in plaid."

Karen gave her a theatrical scowl and rested her chin on Claire's silky hair. "Hush, you're ruining it."

–––❖–––

Not far away, Gordon had also doffed his VR gear. The buzz of excitement from the day's events hadn't faded yet—he'd been waiting to send off Gallant for a long time. That, and stressing about whether he could beat his own double in a quick draw.

"Fastest draw in Ghostlands," he murmured to himself. It didn't exactly have a ring to it, but he liked it anyway.

Gordon opened the door to a pizza-and-beer laden Harry with a sense of gratitude and relief—Claire hadn't been exactly subtle with her hostility, and had been buzzing around the house like an angry hornet since the stream ended before finally withdrawing to her room in her best friend's care. Harry being around always grounded his step-sibling out somewhat, as did a soothing dose of empty calories.

But, setting up, Harry's posture began to change: he was working up to something.

"Spill it," Gordon requested, providing paper plates from an upper cabinet. "What's got you all twisted up?"

Harry dithered for a moment before he responded. "Look," he said. "Ever since you unveiled Gallant, I'd been meaning to ask—what's with all the changes? You blindsided everyone with Gallant—I mean, we're financially tied to this stream, and to make something like that, you'd have to respec from gunslinger—that's a huge thing to spring on us without any warning."

"It's just a build adjustment. I didn't even move that many points. Two from Courage to Grit, scout's honor."

Harry shook his head. "That's not the point—well, it's sort of the point. You really managed it with that few reallocations?"

Gordon nodded.

"Well, Claire assumed differently—maybe she'll calm down once you tell her. But also—you hurt Karen."

Gordon frowned and put down his plate, a sinking feeling growing in the hollow of his gut. "I hurt Karen? How?"

That wasn't quite an honest reaction, he realized mid-word. He knew how. He just didn't like the reasoning. "It isn't fair for you guys to say that anything I do with Marie is somehow aimed at hurting her. We aren't even—Karen doesn't even like me."

"'You guys' meaning Claire, you mean," Harry said, not letting that pass. "I think she has a crush on you. Claire, who's known her since they were barely out of diapers, thinks so too. But I don't think the fact that you have a girlfriend is hurting her. I think you performing acts of love for your girlfriend while Karen has to sit there watching, on camera, is hurting her. Claire said she felt ambushed—she smiled, called your girlfriend 'lucky,' but come on, man. You put her in a really awkward spot."

Gordon sighed and leaned against the counter. "I didn't think about that. I wasn't trying to hurt anyone—I just wanted to do something meaningful for Marie."

"I think that's pretty obvious." Harry grabbed a breadstick and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing for a moment before continuing. "Look, I'm not saying you're wrong for wanting to show Marie how much you care. But you need to understand how your actions affect everyone around you. Karen's not just another person on the stream—she cares about you."

"I'm not leading her on, Harry. That's not what this is."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Gordon popped the tab on a beer, after scrutinizing the label—lite. Ugh. "I don't know how to fix this. I owe you guys a ton already."

"Mostly Karen, to be fair," Harry commented. "I didn't really have much of a stream without you guys anyway, but she was on the cusp of becoming a household name even without our help. Hell, she probably lost viewers when we monetized."

"People don't like advertisements. I told you you guys didn't have to."

"We told you we had your back. Even Claire."

"Grudgingly."

"You know how she feels about the whole thing. Any little contribution from her—"

"—means a lot. I get it."

"So?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. We're trending—twelve K or so a stream on good days. If we can keep it up, I'll go to Mars in six months."

Harry didn't exactly look happy at the news, but he nodded.

"I didn't sign up to be team mom, okay?" Harry stuffed another breadstick into his mouth, chewing pointedly before continuing. "I guess what I'm trying to tell you is that we've got your back, and you need to trust us more. Sometimes things we don't intend to happen… happen. Karen felt uncomfortable but still stood up for you to Claire. That says something. Just—communicate more, alright? Let her know she's special to you, if she is."

The earlier tension faded as the two settled into dinner. The table was cluttered with pizza boxes and beer cans, and the room was filled with the quiet hum of the stream's recap playing in the background on the kitchen tv. Gordon leaned back in his chair, taking a long sip, while Harry prodded at the bottom of a garlic sauce cup with a half-eaten slice of pizza, all the breadsticks long gone.

"So, Marie's avatar," Harry said, breaking the comfortable silence. "I was reading the chat logs, and it really got their attention—certainly can't hurt our viewership. I didn't think she was the type to design her character to be all 'in your face' like that, though—me, I go all out, I gotta be me, but—"

Gordon heard the door open behind them, but ignored it in favor of another slice of pizza.

"I'll accept the viewership going up," Gordon said, his tone dry, "just don't show me how the sausage is made—or I'll tell Claire."

Harry froze mid-laugh. "Wait, what? Why would you—"

"Tell Claire what? Honey?"

The voice cut through the room like a blade, smooth and laced with amusement. Harry froze mid-grin, his head snapping toward the doorway. There she was, lounging casually against the frame, arms crossed, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised. Her blazer was immaculate, her ponytail sleek, every inch the corporate heir.

Harry froze, his grin instantly plastered into something closer to panic as he scrambled for something—anything—that wouldn't dig the hole deeper. "Oh, hey, Claire! Didn't see you there!"

"Obviously. Gordon?"

Gordon barely hesitated, setting his beer down as he leaned back in his chair, entirely at ease. "Harry's just doing the open-mouth-insert-foot thing again," he said smoothly, gesturing vaguely in Harry's direction. "Nothing to worry about."

Claire looked at them skeptically before sauntering forward and helping herself to the last two beers of the six-pack. "I'm sure." She stopped to plant a slow kiss on Harry's lips, her eyes remaining intent on his, popped one of the cans, and was gone.

Harry's eyes followed her as she swept out.

"What a woman," he said reverently.

Gordon ignored him, sending out a text: the Q-link would be active in 5… 4… 3….