“No—not yet, Eva,” was the tall, flaxen haired man’s reply.
“This has been your answer for three months now, Rick. Is there something I should be concerned about?” Rick swiped the door for his indignant girlfriend and followed her out of the small apartment. She moved hastily down the hall, stopping at the imposing bulkhead door at the terminus of the corridor. She tore through her bag.
“Damn, I forgot my nano-key!” Rick finally caught up.
“We can use mine.” Rick swiped a small card in the door. Eva walked through, intentionally staying ahead of her consort.
This scenario, with minor variations, had played itself out a dozen times over the past three months. Eva was adamant that her boyfriend get scanned. The latest NeuroTrack Inc. product, “Nostradamus” was considered to be the most accurate predictor of human behavior since Microsoft’s “ThinkSuite 3.1”. It achieved an impressive 88% accuracy rate with up to a three year range. Unfortunately, though, ThinkSuite 3.1 could only predict basic thought patterns. It proved unable to discern between variations in emotion. The system malfunction of 2089 was also a great embarrassment. It took another ten years, and the founding of NanoTrack Inc., to rebuild the public trust in behavior predicting software. Rick, however, was still apprehensive.
“It’s not like I’m asking you to give up the internet Rick,” Eva saw that her silent treatment had sufficiently shaken up her companion.
“I realize that Eva, I’m just not convinced “Nostradamus” is anymore reliable than that old ‘mind shock’ thing was”.
“ThinkSuite, Rick, it was called ThinkSuite”.
“See, if my memory is that bad, how on earth will that scanner be able to predict how I might act in the future?” The two stopped in front of another door, this one leading to the subterranean, high-speed shuttle system.
“Would you do it for me? I would really like to know where this relationship is going. “Nostradamus” can predict behavior up to a five year span! It said I would remain committed to my current relationship.”
“Eva, how is that possible? What if I get abducted by aliens or something? Couldn’t be very committed then.”
“Stop being ridiculous. We both know that extra terrestrial life was proven a mathematical impossibility in 2093.” Eva sighed deeply. “If you won’t even get scanned for me, how can this relationship possibly work?” Rick finally conceded defeat.
“Alright, I’ll get scanned.” Eva smiled and took him by the arm.
“Great! We can go now.”
“Don’t you need an appointment?”
“I already made one.”
“If you can predict my behavior this easily, why do I need to get scanned?”
***********************************
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm”? What exactly does that mean, Dr. Loveless?” Rick worriedly asked.
“Well, it means, that your scan is showing some erratic behavior signatures.” The doctor paged through the scan once again “hmmm”ing at least three more times.
“This is not something I would want to show my wife.” The doctor handed the portfolio to Rick who found it difficult to interpret. There were numerous images of his brain, he assumed at least, and each had different wave pattern graphs applied over the image. The tall, thin doctor looked wraithlike in the bright, sterile light of the scan-room.
“Why not? All I see are dots and something that looks a little like a Jello mold”.
“Jello?”, the doctor laughed, “what a quaint reference.” The doctor moved closer to Rick. “The Jello formation is actually an extra-marital affair about two years down the road by the looks of it.”
“What!?”
“Oh yes, we’ve seen it hundreds of times—and that was just during our CEO’s scan.” The doctor took the portfolio and tucked it under his arm. “This can remain confidential, of course.” Rick pulled himself out of the uncomfortable scanning chair and approached the doctor.
“That doesn’t mean anything. I wouldn’t do something like that.”
“No? How can you be so sure? Nostradamus has never once been wrong.”
“Maybe they’re self-fulfilling prophecies.” The doctor handed Rick the scan.
“Believe what you like, but facts are facts. Now please be on your way, I have five more subjects to scan this evening.” Rick exited the scan-room and handed his nano-key to the receptionist. The bill was exorbitant.
“Thank you sir,” the receptionist perkily responded, “please scan with us again.” Rick took his card back and slowly approached the patiently waiting Eva.
“How did it go?” Eva asked. Rick paused. “Well?” she prodded.
“This is absurd, Eva. There is no way that maniac Dr. Loveless could accurately predict that I will cheat on you.” Eva grabbed the portfolio.
“Cheat on me?!” She quickly reviewed the doctor’s comments. “More than once?”
“Eva, it’s all conjecture—“
“So how many times have you already cheated on me? This mathematical trend indicates that you must have at least once!”
“No, no I haven’t—“ Eva’s anger dissolved into tears.
“I knew something was wrong when you refused to come. My mother was right about you.” Rick reached for his sobbing girlfriend but she pulled away.
“Eva, it’s a computer. They can be wrong.”
“Rick, it’s science, it’s fact.” She handed the portfolio back to Rick. “I’m just glad I found out now.” Eva collected herself and walked away from her now ex-boyfriend. “I hope we can still be civil.” Rick followed her; she was sprinting towards the elevator now.
“Eva, wait come back.” It was too late, she was already safely aboard the shuttle elevator. He watched her speed down the tunnel. An elderly gentleman ambled towards the forlorn Rick, hoping to catch the next shuttle. The clever old man shrewdly inferred what had happened.
“Why can’t young people just go see palm readers anymore?”
“A what?” Rick confusedly replied as the two boarded the next elevator.
**********************************
Doctor Loveless was only half aware of the altercation that took place in his waiting room. They were quite commonplace in his line of work. How many times had he diagnosed the “cheating” signature…100, maybe 150? Or was it 250? It didn’t matter if he could remember, Nostradamus was always right….
Fin
Doctor Loveless was only half aware of the altercation that took place in his waiting room. They were quite commonplace in his line of work. How many times had he diagnosed the “cheating” signature…100, maybe 150? Or was it 250? It didn’t matter if he could remember, Nostradamus was always right….
Fin
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