Static Void

Cassandra stepped out of the bathroom; in her opinion, just before the long amount of time she had spent inside had become a suspiciously long amount of time. 

She returned to the kitchen, where Julianna was piping frosting onto a cookie. Ever since they were young—or, ever since they were younger—Julianna would throw "cookie parties." She delighted in arranging frosting, sprinkles, and pre-baked shortbread cookies in various shapes for them to use in decorating. As they got older, Julianna had evolved from hearts and stars to more "mature" shapes, but the essence of the cookie party was unchanged. It was a time for them to gossip, make each other laugh with the phrases or pictures they could create with icing, and eat their creations while being momentarily unconcerned with the amount of calories contained within. And, although it was called a party, it had never involved more than the two of them.

Until now.

"Hey, Cassie," Julian said. He was leaning over the bowls of dark chocolate chips and ganache, peering into each.

"Sorry, Cass, he insisted on crashing our girls' day."

"That's okay," she said, though she bristled at "Cassie." In a sense, she had expected this. Julianna's numbers were only from about an hour ago, so Julian must have been nearby to accomplish that a mere twenty-six minutes before her arrival. There was always the possibility that it was with someone else rather than Julian, but she considered it a slim one. The limitations of her power were perplexing. It would be much more useful—although she seriously found it difficult to view any part of her ridiculous, unwanted ability "useful"—if she could at least see who the other person was, or where the act had occurred, or what the act had even been, instead of just raw timestamps devoid of context. It was good to know as little as possible, in a sense, but on the other hand getting only a glimpse could make you unbearably curious to know more.

"When Julie told me you guys were making cookies, I couldn't help myself. Did you know, coincidentally, that Lyra's first partner is with Sinful?"

Sinful was a new gourmet cookie store in the city whose offerings rivalled specialty cakes in both size and price.

"I'm happy for you," she said, but it was hard to not imagine him and Julianna. His weird, wiry frame seemed in some aerodynamic or engineering sense totally unsuited for sex, as if his body's thin angularity were more designed for sitting in front of a computer and commanding it to create a perfect PowerPoint than messy passion. She then realized she was happy, but not for his company—she was happy that she wasn't one of the investors he was presenting his idea to. Would she be able to judge his product fairly if all she could see was the date of his last encounter? What if he was there with Julianna and their numbers were the same? Or would it be worse if they were there and their numbers were different? Would it drive some unconscious bias if the numbers were recent? If they were distant? If they weren't there at all? Maybe having a power like this meant it would be wrong to ever have a job that required judging someone. Then again, that was probably most jobs. 

"Cass is a little bit confused about Aidan," Julianna said by way of explaining what might have been too much dryness in Cassandra's tone. "About going to prom with him."

Cassandra shot her an evil look. There was no way it was ethical to put your friendship with a boy in the hot seat when you yourself had a boyfriend.

Julian nodded. "I get it."

Did he? Could he? Could someone who had had sex with his girlfriend literally minutes before her friend walked in the door get it, or get anything? Other than laid, of course.

Julianna folded her arms. "I think, sometimes, there's a pattern that can happen. And I don't want you to think I'm overstepping or something. But I want to make sure you and Aidan don't fall into the wrong pattern."

Cassandra prepared her body for the impact of being violently misinterpreted.

"Sometimes, you can have a friendship with someone where your connection is so strong that it can feel… flirtatious, you know. Especially with two smart people, like you and Aidan. Sometimes if two people are smart they can be so smart near and at each other that it feels like subtext, because, again, smart people like you two, you're good at finding subtext in everything.

"And flirtation, you know, it's this great banter and back-and-forth of jokes and challenges, right? But so is any conversation between really smart people, like you two, you know? Maybe two smart people can have brains that are so, I don't know, adept at analyzing and responding and pushing that it can feel like those brains are saying they want to be together when really they're just two brains that just happen to be really good at being brains near each other."

Julian nodded. "It actually ties into evolutionary theory. We just studied this in AP Biology."

Julianna clapped. "Oh, yes, babe, that's right! So, it turns out that humor and intelligence—did you know those actually evolved for a biological purpose? So, obviously if you're smart, you have good genes and therefore should definitely reproduce. But how can you tell if someone else has those intelligence genes? To make sure you have the smartest and best baby? You need something like a, what is it?"

"An honest signal," Julian said.

"Yes, babe, that's it. An honest signal. Like, a sign you can't fake. And what's a sign of intelligence you can't fake? Humor! And really good conversation! 

"And so maybe it's possible that those honest signals are both kind of blasting out into the air like, I don't know, like cell phone signals, like 5G radio waves or something, and they're ending up interminging in the air because they are so strong even though they weren't being sent to each other. They're like broadcasts instead of direct transmissions."

Cassandra looked down at the platter of cookies. She considered the approach here. If someone calls you smart, they have basically made it impossible for you to question their judgment without making it out unscathed.

"Look, I'm not even saying I like Aidan or anything. We are just friends, okay? I think your premise here is that we like each other? And we don't? Well, we do, but not in that way. And isn't it a little reductive to act like people can't enjoy each other's company without wanting to have sex? Isn't it more meaningful if someone enjoys you without an ulterior motive or whatever?"

Julianna considered this. "Good point… but isn't it also nice to be wanted in every way? Not just in the ways that matter? Even in the ways that don't? Or, the ones you think don't."

"The ones you think don't." Now this was a bit infuriating. If she were petty, she would have revealed her power then and there. You think you know more about this stuff than me, Julianna? Well, wait until you hear what I know about you and about everyone—and without needing to study AP Biology first either. But she stopped the cruel impulse. Julianna wasn't trying to be mean. She was trying to be helpful.

"I just…" she started, and then dropped her hands. "I just like talking to him and I want to spend time with him. Okay?"

"It's actually good that that's your perspective," she said. "Because I guess what I'm trying to say is, there's another pattern that can happen, if you end up thinking all those 5G cell phone honest signal intelligence brain wave blasts are for you.

"Because sometimes you get it into your head that it must mean something, because then if it doesn't, then nothing means anything. And then any type of real friendship—which sometimes involves being a little mean to each other, or a little dismissive—which is still affection, gets interpreted by your brain as malice, because it's not the specific type of affection you're demanding. And then it makes you lash out and become bitter. And then the friendship ends and it all ends up gone. I just hope that pattern doesn't happen."

Maybe there was no point fighting. Maybe her best strategy was to accept the kindness. 

"That pattern won't happen. I promise."

"Good," Julianna said, taking her hand lightly. 

Julian had a cookie in his mouth.

"Julie, I just remembered."

"Yeah, babe?"

"That cat we saw at Wendy's was definitely a bobcat."

"That was not a bobcat. That was just a well-sized cat."

"It was a bobcat, literally."

"So, Lyra," Cassandra said. Anything to get the conversation off herself. "Sinful, you said?"

Julian, remembering his purpose in coming, smiled coyly. "Do you ladies want to level up to a VR cookie experience?" 

From his bag he produced a virtual reality helmet and gloves. 

"It's already loaded with a prototype of the experience we're developing for Sinful." 

She began fitting it into herself. At least it would get her out of his conversation. 

"All right, I'm ready. Do it."