October 4th, 2035.
Stark City, Oregon.
2:57 p.m.
Nature abhors a vacuum. So said Aristotle many centuries ago. And while perhaps not a literal scientific truth, it’s long been the personal philosophy of one Avery Corbin Grunfeld—at least in the strict temporal sense.
Time, in Avery’s estimation, is the most precious commodity anyone could ever have. And what people do with their time shapes their lives as wet clay upon a potter’s wheel.
Thus, Avery has always viewed life as a vacuum waiting to be filled. His personal choices about how to fill this vacuum have been very deliberate; the most important decisions of his entire life.
And today, Avery has filled his precious time with … waiting.
“Almost here,” Avery muttered as he paced the length of his living room. The delivery had been scheduled for three o’clock, and for the last hour, every second, every minute, had felt like an eternity.
Terrible.
Excruciating.
Hoping.
Anticipating.
Waiting.
Nothing to do but pace and think and drive himself mad.
A drink, then?
No. Not yet.
Avery had dressed in his Sunday best for this momentous occasion; he wanted to be stone cold sober for it, too.
After all, it’s not every day that my life is on the cusp of changing in ways I’ve never dared to dream.
“Well … perhaps another walkthrough. Just to make sure everything’s as tidy as possible.”
A quick about-face, three long strides, and Avery found himself in a dark hallway. No need to turn on the light as he moved toward his bedroom. He could’ve found the door with his eyes shut.
For the last twenty-seven years, Avery has toiled in the Stark County Public Library; first as a volunteer, then an aide, then a librarian, and now—for the last ten years—as the Director of Services. Perhaps not the most glamorous job, but a job which he loved and which afforded him a very comfortable lifestyle. Avery lived on the third floor of The Envoy; one of Stark City’s most prestigious condo buildings. This has been his home for two decades. A place of peace, serenity, and solitude.
Until today.
“Let’s see,” Avery muttered, stepping into his bedroom and flipping the light switch. “Everything should be tidy in here…”
Indeed. He’d spent the previous day vacuuming, dusting the blinds, and washing the bedclothes. Still, Avery crossed the room and did a slow turn. The closet had been organized, so no worries there. His dark oak nightstand had been polished and cleared of clutter.
Of all things, Avery abhorred clutter.
Yes … a place for everything … and everything in its place…
Smiling, Avery turned to the bed. Not many women had slept beside him there, and none more ever would. In a way, Avery missed the few women he’d known and loved throughout his life, but now saw their absence as a blessing in disguise. For their absence had left a vacuum.
A perfect opportunity.
Resisting the urge to sit on the bed and wrinkle the comforter, Avery leant back against the wall … remembering…
Ah, Jade. My first boyhood crush. What whimsy…
Yes. Jade Matthews. Avery had met her in fourth grade at Elmer G. Twilley Elementary School. Something about her had bewitched him the instant they met. Her long, curly blonde hair. The way her eyes fluttered like butterfly wings when she giggled. Avery never told Jade how much he liked her, watching in desperation as she grew taller and prettier with each passing year … until, alas, they’d gone their separate ways.
Ah, well…
With a sigh, Avery pushed from the wall and exited his bedroom, leaving the door open behind him.
There hadn’t been any girls who’d interested Avery in middle school, and his entry into the Sloan High Chess Club—combined with a vicious outbreak of acne—had laid to rest any teenage aspirations of dating.
But once he got to college—
Ah, Elysha. My first real love. What passion…
Yes. Elysha Munden. Avery had met her in the summer between his sophomore and junior years at Reed College in Portland. With her raven hair, infectious smile, and cheeky British sense of humor, Avery had fallen head-over-heels at first glance. Three glorious months passed … then Elysha returned home to Peterborough, England; never to be seen again.
Sure, they’d written letters and talked on the phone, but time moved on and so did they. Avery had known that she’d have to leave, of course. But nothing could’ve prepared him for the emptiness which had descended upon him as he’d watched Elysha—head lowered, fighting back tears—lurch down the ramp toward her flight home.
Gone forever.
Leaving an abhorrent vacuum in her wake.
Even now, Avery winces at the pain associated with this rust-covered memory. Last he knew, Elysha had gotten married, moved to London, and had a child … with another on the way.
Good for her…
Smirking, Avery crossed the hall and stepped into the bathroom. Belying the fact that a bachelor lived there, everything sparkled. A testament to Avery’s expectations.
Straightening, Avery looked into the mirror. He wore a dark gray double-breasted suit over a dark blue dress shirt, with a matching gray tie. He’d shaved, combed his dark hair, clipped his fingernails. Polished his slick black loafers. Now he looked ready for a job interview, a wedding, or a funeral.
All dressed up with nowhere to go—except home.
“Could be worse, I suppose…”
Winking at his reflection, Avery turned and entered the hall.
This time, he stumbled.
Ah, Yvonne. My second love. What folly…
Yes. Yvonne Cooke. Tall and curvy, effusive and personable. Avery had met her during his internship at the library. Yvonne had sauntered in one cool autumn day and asked where she could find the science fiction section. Music to Avery’s ears. He’d led Yvonne through the walls of books, listening with amusement as she explained that her friend had recommended The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and she couldn’t afford to buy a copy. Avery had grown up watching “Doctor Who” and reading Dune novels, and science fiction happened to be his favorite genre. So, after assisting Yvonne with checkout, Avery ventured to ask her on a date—and, to his utter amazement, she’d accepted.
Probably because she wasn’t used to making decisions sober…
Avery and Yvonne’s first date had gone well, which of course led to a second, a third, a fourth. Then, the inevitable. Waking up in each other’s arms on a regular basis. Mornings filled with laughter. Evenings filled with comfort. Nights filled with love.
Would they live together?
Would this be a lasting affair?
Perhaps, Avery had thought at the time. Just perhaps. And—just perhaps—his heart would forever move on from Elysha.
But, little by little, the veneer began to fade … exposing the rot beneath.
Damn booze, Avery thought, crossing the hall toward another door.
He’d known from the very first date that Yvonne liked to drink. She’d made no effort to hide it. Two glasses of wine a night, she’d proclaimed with a grin. Three, on weekends.
At first, Avery hadn’t minded. But over time, Yvonne’s drinking began to get worse. Two glasses a night became three, and three glasses on weekends became five. And her gaggle of obnoxious friends hadn’t helped. Avery disliked all of them. Always pressuring Yvonne to go out dancing, waste time in bars, get blitzed at parties—all things which Avery abhorred.
He just wanted to live a quiet life.
Relax.
Enjoy the comforts of home.
And as he’d begun to resent Yvonne’s drinking and carousing, Yvonne had begun to resent his rigid ways.
Thus, like the ending of a dream, their burgeoning love faded into … nothing.
Leaving yet another vacuum in Avery’s heart.
Poor girl. Such a waste.
Now Avery stood in what should’ve been the guest bedroom. Emphasizing the fact that a bachelor lived there, it had been converted to a workout room. Modest but functional. A small rack of dumbbells in the corner. A medium-sized elliptical machine in the opposite corner. A large yoga mat next to the wall. And space; plenty of room to stretch and move. All because Avery abhorred public gyms.
“Tidy enough, I suppose…”
Avery sighed, shook his head.
Ah, but then came Miss Nelson…
Yes. Lauryn Nelson. Another woman Avery had met at the library. Struck at first glance by her dark red hair and piercing green eyes, he’d struck up a casual conversation about the books she’d chosen. As it turned out, they had very similar taste in not just literature, but in movies and music as well.
And so began a slow and steady romance which Avery had hoped would last. But everything went to hell several weeks later when Lauryn developed a sudden case of nuptial nerves and baby fever. She’d wanted, needed, a husband and child—right then.
And Avery, ever cautious, ever judicious, had decided to end it—right then.
As a child of divorce, Avery harbored serious reservations about shackling himself to what he thought of as The American Nightmare. The crushing weight of a thirty-year mortgage, a nagging wife, and disrespectful children. He’d seen what it had done to his parents, to most of his friends, to others, and he found it all … abhorrent.
Ah, well. So it goes…
Another smirk. Another about-face, and back into the hall.
And what about the others? Those precious few women in Avery’s anemic love life?
Well, he’d tried online dating for a few years. But all the names, faces, and profiles began to blur together after a while. Always the same things:
Single mommy seeking love and passion!
Where’s my forever person?
I love the outdoors!
Hiking!
Camping!
Skiing!
Drinks!
Dancing!
And the language. Everything in life had to be an adventure, or a journey.
It gave Avery indigestion just thinking about it. He abhorred outdoor recreation, and as an academic, he abhorred pretentious language from pretentious people.
No, thank you. Like Bartleby, I prefer not to…
So. How had Avery kept himself from going insane for all these lonesome, solitary years?
Simple. The man had learned to enjoy his solitude by cultivating a rich and fulfilling hobby life. By doing the things he loved:
Stamps.
Chess.
Music.
Film.
Literature.
Art.
Everything a growing boy needs…
Back in the living room, Avery clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to keep himself from pacing. He moved to the center of the room and folded his arms, careful not to crease his suit.
“Any minute now … any minute …”
Avery’s restless eyes moved over his coffee table, his couch, his large flatscreen TV. Next to the TV stood a large cabinet filled with Blu-ray cases. Smiling, he moved closer, looking at the glistening titles; many of them bearing the vaunted Criterion logo.
“Ah, my films! What shall we watch tonight? I think … I think I’ll let her decide…”
Below the movies, a shelf full of CDs beckoned. Just the thing for nerves. Avery had a large selection of classical compilations and symphonies, as well as an entire collection of Janis Ian albums.
Music, then? Debussy? Ian’s Stars?
No. Not now.
No television, no music.
Avery wanted utter silence when his delivery arrived.
“Well, at any rate, I suppose I’m all ready for company.”
Turning from the cabinet, Avery spied his beloved chess board across the room and felt a dull pang. He loved that game. It had been a graduation present from his parents. A deluxe marble board with matching pieces, it sat upon a small black table in the corner next to his couch.
“Knight takes pawn—right, Tom?”
Yes. Thomas Bracken. Avery’s closest friend from high school. They’d played chess at least once a week—sans Avery’s scholastic pursuits in Portland—since freshman year. Up until ten years ago, that is. That’s when Tom had gotten married. Mrs. Bracken didn’t like chess; didn’t want Tom enjoying it, either.
Avery sighed, shook his head.
“No … I suppose it’s … queen takes castle, old friend. And now … it’s checkmate.”
Beside the chess board stood a small shelf filled with multicolored binders. Avery smiled at them. These binders represented decades of his life. Decades of passion. Decades of accomplishment. His treasured stamp collection; categorized, of course, by country of origin, theme, and type. All lined up in a row, just the way his father had taught him at age ten.
So. Art films. Chess. Stamps. Almost as if Avery strove to be as bland as possible; as if he’d cultivated the most boring life anyone could ever imagine. This more than anything had cemented his bachelorhood. But he loved himself for being boring; loved his dull, contented life even more. He refused to change, even at the expense of love.
For what good is love if it means having to compromise your entire being?
And this I will not do…
Above the couch hung three large paintings in ornate black frames. All reprints of Francisco Goya, Avery’s favorite artist. The monstrous Saturn Devouring His Son. The foreboding Sleep of Reason. And the sensual Nude Maja.
Three scenes.
Three moods.
A Holy Trinity of ego, id, and superego.
Avery found that gazing at them one by one, then taking them in together, relaxed him. Allowed his mind to settle and his thoughts to lift…
Eyes closed, Avery uncrossed his arms, and took a deep, slow, breath—
Thump! Thump! Thump!
“Shit!”
Avery jumped as if he’d heard an explosion.
“Finally!”
Turning now. Almost tripping. Sprinting to the door.
“Just a moment!”
Another deep breath as his hand closed around the handle.
Click!
Steady now, Grunfeld…
Grinning, Avery opened the door to reveal a young man in blue coveralls standing next to a tall, rectangular box on a hand truck. “Delivery for Mister Grunfeld,” the young man said, and Avery waved him forward.
“Right this way, sir. Just leave it in the center of the room.”
“You got it,” the deliveryman replied, wheeling the box inside.
Avery thanked him, tipped him ten dollars for his trouble. “Now, then,” he said, closing and locking the door. “Let’s see what we’ve got here…”
Beginning to tremble with excitement, Avery walked around to the front of the box which now stood in his living room. Taller than Avery, the box measured four feet across. On the front, a large white sticker proclaimed:
SPECIAL DELIVERY!
C/O The Stepford Bureau LLC
P.O. Box 55513
Walla Walla, WA 99362
“Right.”
Reaching into his pocket, Avery retrieved a boxcutter and began slitting the cardboard along the top seam. Then the right side, followed by the left. Then the front of the box flopped forward like a limp tongue. Crouching, Avery slit from front to back along the bottom on both sides, then the rest of the box fell backward like a toppled building.
“Well, let’s see…”
Pocketing the knife, Avery moved to the front, stepped back—almost tripping over his coffee table—and crossed his arms.
A black, featureless case now stood before him. Made of high-grade plastic, its form suggested that of an ancient Egyptian sarcophagus; perhaps hiding a mummified corpse inside its shell.
Rubbing his hands in anticipation, Avery looked the box up and down, then approached with a mien of awe and gratitude.
“Finally!”
Placing his right hand upon the box’s left side, he found a small indentation and latch within—
Click!
Stepping back, the box’s lid swung open on a black metal hinge. Smooth. Noiseless. Nothing to break the reverent silence.
Avery’s jaw dropped.
“She … she’s …” He blinked, shook his head. Felt his heart lurch inside his chest. “She’s … MAGNIFICENT!”
And there she stood. Entombed in her custom black sarcophagus. Eyes closed. Arms limp at her sides. Not dead, not asleep, but … inert.
Breath caught in his throat, Avery looked her up and down.
The most beautiful woman in all of creation. But then, Avery would think that—
He’d created her, after all.
“An absolute vision!”
The woman—whose name Avery refused to say or even think until he heard it from her lips—stood five feet, nine inches tall; Avery’s exact height. Her dark blonde monofilament hair hung down past her shoulders. Avery had chosen a layered, tousled look which framed her sharp, European features. Her smooth forehead. Her thin nose with petite nostrils. Her high, sharp cheekbones. Her thick pink lips. Her pointed, ovular chin.
Her neck had an elegant curve where it met her narrow shoulders. Her full C-cup breasts hung in perfect teardrops above her flat midsection. Her thin arms had just a hint of muscle tone. Another elegant curve graced her waist and hips, and her legs looked long and sleek with also just a hint of muscle tone. Her soft polyurethane skin glowed with a slick sheen.
This lifeless woman wore a black satin dress which hung down to her calves. And no makeup. Nothing on her face or lips. No polish on her finger- or toenails.
Gazing at her, Avery shook his head in reverence. Remembering all those late nights of dreaming about her. Hour upon hour of sitting at his computer and feeding data into The Stepford Bureau’s website. Studying schematics. Designing, modifying every little feature.
Searching for perfection.
And finding it.
“Okay, then…”
Fingers trembling, Avery reached behind her head, caressing the back of her neck until he felt it. A small indentation at the base of her skull.
“Now…”
Avery pushed the button and held it for three agonizing seconds. Then, she came to life.
The woman’s eyes twitched. Her lips quivered. Her brow furrowed. Then, her eyelids opened … revealing two shiny, crystalline blue eyes.
Unease now wrestled with the growing excitement in Avery’s heart. His own eyes widened as he stepped back, unsure of what might happen next.
Expressionless, the woman gazed at Avery with a blank stare. Looking through him as if he didn’t exist.
“Come on … come on…”
Beginning to perspire, Avery clenched and unclenched his fists.
God, he needed a stiff belt.
“Hello,” she said at last, smiling. “I am a product of The Stepford Bureau Design Company. I am a Life Companion, designed by Valued Customer Avery Corbin Grunfeld. My Model Designation is SBDC-LC. My Product Number is 4260-84. At this time, I am instructed to ask, are you Valued Customer Grunfeld?”
“Yes,” Avery replied, fascinated. Her voice sounded flat and monotone, but deeper than most women’s, with a slight rasp. He’d fed The Stepford Bureau’s voice simulator several samples of speech from the likes of Sean Young, Kathleen Turner, and Kirstie Alley until he’d modulated the perfect tone to his ear. A sultry voice, which he knew hadn’t quite manifested yet.
“I’m Avery Grunfeld…”
The woman nodded. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister Grunfeld. Myself and The Stepford Bureau send you warm wishes and our thanks for choosing our services.”
Avery chuckled. “My pleasure…”
Still staring through him, the woman gave no indication of hearing his response. “At this time, I am instructed to inform you that Valued Customer Grunfeld has opted for a Full Lifetime Warranty, which covers all aspects of my outer and inner being, including—but not limited to—accidental harm or damage to my person, harm or damage from weather and/or elements, and harm or damage from normal use; otherwise known as wear and tear. Any evidence of intentional negligence and/or harm to my person will render this warranty null and void. Is this satisfactory?”
“Yes…”
“Thank you, Valued Customer Grunfeld. We appreciate your business. As my proprietor, you have opted for a two-step verification process. You may now proceed with the first step.”
“Thank you.”
Another deep breath as Avery stepped closer, looking into her sparkling sapphire irises. It took all his willpower not to stare at her shiny lips, and even more not to kiss her right then and there.
But, no. That would have to wait.
So far, it’s working perfectly … but only time will tell…
A moment passed.
Endless.
Excruciating.
“Retinal scan complete. Thank you, Mister Grunfeld. You may proceed with the next step.”
Avery stepped back and bowed like a true gentleman.
“It is a great pleasure to meet you,” she said, extending her right hand in a demure gesture.
Avery didn’t hesitate. Taking her hand, he bent and raised it to his lips. It felt warm and soft in his grasp as he kissed the invisible sensor embedded in her sleek skin.
Another moment passed.
Insidious torment.
The woman’s eyes closed. Then a jolt rippled through her body and she shuddered. Surprised, Avery released her hand and stepped back—again almost tripping over his coffee table.
“Oh, boy…”
The woman’s hand returned to her side. Another shudder … then she opened her sparkling eyes.
And now … she looked … alive!
“Avery!” she gasped, pressing both hands to her chest. “Avery, my darling! I have waited so long to meet you!”
Avery felt a lump form in his throat. If she only knew how long he’d waited to meet her.
My entire fucking life, it seems…
“Yes, I … I feel the same…”
Arms now crossed over her chest, clutching her shoulders, the woman slid her palms over her smooth skin and looked down with a silent yelp. “I am alive! I am real!” She looked up as a grin spread across her face, revealing perfect teeth. “And you are alive! And you are real! And we are here … together!”
Avery looked uncertain. Now that the moment had arrived, he felt almost numb with joy. Dumbfounded that his fantasy had become reality. “Yes … you are alive … and we are here … together.”
Eyes widening, she leapt from the sarcophagus, prompting Avery to take a reflexive step backward—again hitting that damned coffee table.
Ouch! Shit!
The woman looked thrilled with life and everything around her. Still grinning, she raised her right arm. “Touch me, darling! Feel how real I am!”
Without hesitating, Avery wrapped his fingers around her forearm and gave a gentle squeeze. Her flesh felt smooth and soft and warm and inviting—and he released her before he lost all control.
“How do I feel?” she asked, looking into his eyes.
Well, what could he say?
“You, uh …” Avery shrugged, shook his head. “You feel … terrific.”
“Terrific!” she repeated. “Yes! That is the word!”
Avery just nodded. He wanted three fingers of bourbon so bad he could taste it!
“Am I everything you wanted, my darling? Am I everything you hoped I would be?”
Again, what could he say?
“Oh, yes. You’re everything I ever could’ve hoped for—”
Avery paused, returning her gaze.
“And more…”
“And more,” she repeated, raising both arms this time. “I am so happy to hear this. Please, come to me now.”
Avery licked his quivering lips. The lump hardened at the back of his throat. His hands shook as he stepped into her embrace and pulled her close. And she pressed into him with abandon, wrapping her arms tight around his torso. He stiffened as he felt her lips press against his right cheek, then move ever so close to his right ear.
“It is me,” she whispered. “I am Jade Anne Grunfeld. You brought me to life. And I am now yours. Your Jade. Forever and always.”
Holy shit…
Tears now pricked at Avery’s eyes. Squeezing his lids tight, he bore down against the overwhelming tide of emotion. “Jade!” he gasped. “My Love!”
“Ye-e-esss!” Jade replied, laughing. “I am here, My Love!”
And together they stood for several minutes. Holding each other as if letting go meant the end of the world. And Avery, breath hitching, allowed himself to relish every moment … even though Jade still had one last test to pass.
“Now, then,” Avery said, releasing her and stepping back, ever mindful of the infernal coffee table. “Let’s, uh … let’s get this out of the way…”
Moving past Jade, Avery shut the sarcophagus, placed it in front of the door, and removed the mutilated cardboard. Jade, still grinning, looked around the room, taking in everything all at once.
“I love this place! It is perfect!” Jade turned to Avery. “This is where we live?”
Avery nodded.
“Oh, I am overjoyed!”
Yes … now let’s see how deep your programming runs, shall we?
Moving with deliberate slowness, Avery thrust his hands into his pockets, balled his fists, and took a deep breath.
Here goes…
“You know, I was thinking…” Backing away now; moving into a small dining room area next to his open kitchen.
Jade turned to him. “Yes, Love?”
“Well, tonight’s such a special occasion … why don’t we go out for dinner?”
Jade’s grin faltered. “Out?”
“Yeah.” Avery shrugged, doing his best to appear nonchalant. “There’s a new restaurant that just opened across town. Isaac’s Steakhouse. Great risotto, from what I hear.”
“Across town?” Now the rest of Jade’s grin melted away.
“Sure. We could drive over there, maybe go out dancing afterwards. Then find a nice bar with a house band and relax for a while.”
Jade’s eyes grew very wide, and her lips pressed into a thin white line. She looked as if on the verge of tears, but didn’t speak.
“So how does that sound?”
A moment passed. Jade stared at Avery; anxious, uncertain. Avery stared back; calm, hopeful.
Waiting.
“Well … if you would like,” Jade replied, sounding unenthused.
“You don’t seem too excited, Jade.”
“Oh, well,” Jade laughed, flapped her hands in the air. “It is just that Isaac’s sounds expensive. And being a Saturday, a new high-end restaurant will most likely require a reservation…”
Avery looked thoughtful. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“And just think,” Jade added, taking a hesitant step toward him, “all that weekend traffic? Driving across town?”
Yes!
“Well, what would you prefer, then?” Avery ventured, shuffling forward.
Now Jade’s grin returned; radiant as before. “We could stay home, My Love? Isn’t it your policy to stay home as much as possible?”
“Yes,” Avery replied, allowing himself to smile. “I have pretty much lived my life under that … policy, as you say…”
“I thought so!” Jade’s eyes grew wide again, this time with excitement. “I will bet that there is plenty of food in that kitchen!”
Avery glanced at his refrigerator, knowing full well that he’d stocked up on food the day before. “Yeah, we could scrounge something…”
“Then I will cook!” Jade took another step forward. “And we can watch your favorite movie while we eat!”
Now Avery glanced at his prized film collection. “Brazil?”
“Yes!” Jade clasped her hands together with glee. “I love that movie!”
And I love you, Jade…
Hands slipping from his pockets, Avery took a step toward Jade. Longing shone in his gaze as he looked upon his creation. “That sounds good, too…”
“And after dinner, I will massage your back for as long as you like.” Head tilted, Jade pursed her lips with a coy smirk.
My God…
“Yes,” Avery replied, taking another step.
Jade started toward him, slow, careful. Eyes locked with his. “In the meantime, will you show me your stamp collection? I have been dying to see it…”
“Yes, Jade.” Another step, transfixed by her sharp blue eyes. “Whatever you’d like.”
“And, perhaps … a game of chess … to work up an appetite?”
“Absolutely…”
Still moving towards him, Jade began to shake her head. “Oh, My Love … all that pain … all that time...”
Avery stopped dead in his tracks. Tears now fell from his eyes as he began to tremble.
In one fell swoop, all the heartbreak of his past melted away.
Because of her.
Un-fucking-believable!
“No more, My Love,” Jade whispered, drawing closer. “No more…”
God, I hope not!
Unable to speak, Avery rushed forward. And Jade, eyes gleaming, laughing with delight, raised her glistening arms to welcome him. Together, Avery and Jade embraced in sobbing, unbridled passion as—at last—their lips touched for the very first time.
Jesse’s work has appeared in print and online in a variety of publications, including Ramingo’s Porch, The Borfski Press, Orcs Unlimited, Empty Sink Publishing, The Rye Whiskey Review, The Abyss E-zine of Horror, The Dope Fiend Daily, Anotherealm, Idiot Free Zone, and Unlikely Stories.
