Story #93 - Found Out

Found Out

“Can I offer you something to drink?” He shouldn't have been nervous, but this was his first time bringing anyone he was interested in back to his apartment. More often than not, he struck out, and the few times it looked like he'd been getting somewhere, someone bigger and stronger had come along to ruin his night.

“Sure, I'd...like that.” There was a tremor in her voice – maybe she was just as nervous as he was. It wasn't possible, of course, since she was a beauty and he was a lump, but it helped him to think so. Even little white lies took the edge off, and he felt his confidence increase as he moved to the kitchen.

Pulling open the pantry door told him what he already knew; he only had one vintage left. The last week had been particularly disheartening at work, and many of his best bottles had been downed in bouts of sorrow and rage. With a deft move he snatched the bottle from the rack and inspected the label – it wasn't the best he'd ever purchased, but at least it wasn't the swill from the market.

Two glasses and a two quick pours later and he had dark drinks for both of them, but he paused for a moment before rejoining her. This was all new to him, and though he'd heard the stories, actually being present in the moment was an entirely new experience. Feelings he'd never thought possible raged through him, but separating them into component parts was almost impossible, and he didn't give it much effort.

For the moment, he was happy, nervous, and frightened all at the same time, and he wanted the feelings to last as long as possible.

“Here we go,” he said, sweeping back into the main room, glasses in hand, “I apologize for the quality, but I haven't been able to get to the store much in the last month.”

She took the offered glass, took a sip and then waved a dismissive hand. “Not at all! This is perfect, thank you.”

He had known as much; his position at the Inquiry meant that he was paid better than most, and had access to a higher grade of libation. Even with money, the wrong clearance made acquiring delicacies of any kind almost impossible. He knew he wasn't much to look at, but he made up for it in both intelligence and power in local industry.

Taking a seat beside her, he hesitated before beginning the conversation again. Things had been going well before he had offered the drink, and there was no reason they shouldn't continue the same way, but he suddenly couldn't recall a thing they had been talking about. Staring at the floor, he tried desperately to remember the last thing he had said to her, but nothing would come.

“You were telling me more about your work,” she said, “and I hoped you would continue.”

He smiled at her; a genuine thing as opposed to the manufactured airs he needed to put on when he was at the office, and started to speak.

“Warning!”A new voice from the in-wall loudspeaker overrode his own, brash and loud. “You are violating compliance law!” Hopefully the message wasn't for him; the Finders didn't usually bother with high-end residences, and would often let things like his own date proceed with little interference. Of course, matters of intimacy had to be strictly controlled, but that didn't mean a certain amount of tact was out of the question.

Perhaps it wasn't him; he knew of others in the building that regularly violated compliance rules, and there was an unspoken agreement that they would all keep that knowledge to themselves.

“Unit 417B!” He cursed – that was him, all right. “Your female will leave, now, and you will return to a state of compliance. This is not an authorized meeting.”

She stood gracefully, and set the glass gently down on his table. “It was fun.”

She sounded like the actually meant it.

They both knew it had been a risk; it was, every single time any of them got together, but it was often worth it. The Finders couldn't be everywhere, and they were typically concerned with more important matters. He'd likely be fined for tonight’s occurrence, and he'd pay – the closed circuit cameras in his apartment would tell the tale even if he chose to deny it.

She swept out the door and he could feel his interest ratchet up even further as she went. She was as good to look at going as she was coming, and he knew even the Finders wouldn't stop him from searching her out again.

Sighing, he stood and snatched her glass from the table, and drained both his and hers in rapid succession. Once the bottle had been opened, there was no point in wasting it

He was halfway to the kitchen when the front door to his apartment blew open, revealing a five-Finder team, caps pulled low and expressions grim.

“Unit 417B, you are in clear violation of compliance regarding interaction and fraternization, and we have determined that this is not the first time,” their leader said, “You will come with us.”

He sighed. This would not be pleasant, but he had little choice in the matter. Finders were not to be trifled with, and judging by their red faces and straining hands grasping at weapons, they were spoiling for a fight. Too many were recruited for the wrong purpose, and not enough attention was paid to the more human qualities such men should have.

Stepping forward, he held both arms out in front of him, palms up, and the leader snapped a pair of electomag shackles over them, binding his limbs together with a strong current. He could feel his internal nuclear pile tamping down as the current reached it, and a weariness overtook him. His trimetal frame hummed to the pulse of the shackles and he moved compliantly, a picture of his companion's beautiful chassis stuck firmly and defiantly in his mind.

- D