Negative Energy

Woman in the White Dress

Deeply rattled by the encounter, Matt's thoughts were still roiling when he got back to his apartment. Even if he was deranged, why had the man struggled so fiercely to reach him? And why target Matt? Was the object he'd been brandishing some sort of tool—or maybe even a weapon? It had disappeared before he could get a good look at it. The lack of answers, usually just a thought away, led to darker speculations.

With the red lights on the man's temples, Matt's mental query finally received a response: they were pain inducers triggered by physical proximity and intent to harm. More primitive than a Nex, they had first been used on dogs and zoo animals, back when zoos still existed. He prodded at his temples for any unusual bumps, wondering if he had them too. But no, they weren't necessary; if he ever tried resorting to physical violence, his Nex's safeguards would immobilize him instantly. Perhaps the man's Nex was disabled or malfunctioning?

Matt's thoughts kept returning to the man's cryptic warning. Was there a hidden toll to be paid for all this questing, quelling, and feeling good and in control? Matt had shed his religion years ago along with any belief in a soul, but maybe there was some value in human struggle, the molding of character by crucible. Miriam's persevering through cancer was testament to that. Coming back from the brink of death had given her the conviction to strike out on her own, leaving behind the unwanted parts of her past, including him.

The memory gave rise to bitterness. This time, instead of quelling the negative emotion, Matt indulged it. What was the harm? He felt a mental trigger followed by another a few moments later. Decision points, reminding him that he could turn off negativity like a spigot. And if he didn't want to? There was something redemptive about feeling wronged. What would happen if he amplified the resentment instead?

His feelings weren't illogical. For over two years, he had held cancer vigil for his wife, packed duffel bag always at the ready. So many trips to the emergency room! Sometimes he had to carry her as she shook, dry heaving in his arms, too weak to walk on her own. At the worst point, she weighed less than ninety pounds. He must have saved her life a dozen times over. But the one time—the one fucking time—he needed her around to take him to the ER, she hadn't been there for him. When you looked at it that way, she had been partly responsible for his death. Didn't he have a right to be fucking angry?

He decided to get drunk. Why not? For the longest time he had not allowed himself more than two beers, afraid he might exceed the legal limit if he had to rush Miriam to the hospital. Caring husbands didn't call an Uber ride when their wives were shitting blood.

He downed a rum and Coke in a few gulps. He hadn't eaten dinner, and the alcohol went straight to his head, giving him an instant buzz. He had another, this time with some over-spiced chicken wings. Greasy takeout food—so good. That called for another drink—or three. It was the best drunk he'd ever had. No self-recrimination or queasy stomach. He felt untethered, a maligned ghost levitating through the walls of reality.

Matt had a naughty idea. Maybe his Nex-enhanced memory could do more than just replay moments with perfect fidelity. He conjured up a sweaty Ina in her unitard-cum-bikini just as she had looked coming out of the In-Verse ocean. The scene was holo-realistic. He could pan around it, zoom in and out, and advance it forward or back in time. But when he imagined her thighs spreading apart, nothing changed.

He was relieved in a way. It felt like a violation to use someone he barely knew as a prop in his fantasy, a life-like sex hologram. He didn't want to drag Ina into this self-indulgent swoon, or whatever this was.

Even after the divorce, Matt had felt guilty about using porn to masturbate, a practice which had started in junior high and always left a residue of shame. During the early years of marriage, it had been an infrequent thing, but it had come back with a vengeance during Miriam's chemotherapy when, along with her appetite, she had lost her libido.