Chapter Fifteen #3
I brief him on E.M.M.A. and Gale’s upcoming date with Jasmine and invite him to review the data, omitting any references to
myself, of course.
Tony slides his thumbs under his bright red suspenders. “You go too.”
I stare, like he’s just suggested I juggle flaming chain saws. “You want me to do what?”
Tony leans forward, his eyes gleaming with that look he gets when he thinks he’s had a brilliant idea. “I want you to observe
Gale’s lunch date with Jasmine tomorrow. Discreetly, of course. Think less ‘creepy stalker’ and more ‘casual bystander with
really good hearing.’”
I snort, feeling about as stealthy as an elephant in tap shoes. “There’s no need. He’s got the wearable, like with Seraphim.
E.M.M.A. will pick up his physiological data. For a set time, of course. We’re not expecting him to keep it on all day. What
we capture for lunch is enough.”
The idea of analyzing data on one of Gale’s hookups makes me feel physically sick. I mask it behind my best know-it-all expression—the
one that wouldn’t hint I’m silently freaking out and growing more unreasonably jealous by the second.
Tony shoots me a look that’s half amusement, half exasperation.
“Come on. We need your observations for human perceptual validation of E.M.M.A.’s data.
This idea of relational interactions improving gameplay is out there, but there could be more here.
AI providing relationship insights? I want to verify this through human observation. ”
“Great,” I mutter, pursing my lips. “So you’re telling me that I have to be the awkward third wheel all in the name of ‘human
perceptual validation’? Whooooo-weeee. Sounds like a real dream afternoon. Exactly why I got a PhD.”
Tony has the decency to look slightly sheepish. “It is for science, Harriet. Think of it as . . . expanding E.M.M.A.’s understanding of human interaction through cognitive calibration
with your observations.”
I roll my eyes, but can’t quite suppress a smile. “Yeah, well, E.M.M.A. can expand her horizons without my help.”
“Come on, Harriet,” Tony cajoles. “We need to compare E.M.M.A. against your human insight. Your finely tuned Gale-sense, if
you will. It’s crucial for our perceptual alignment process. I need your human intuition to validate that our AI is accurately
interpreting his physiological responses.”
I chew my lip, considering. It’s one thing to lurk around spying on Gale’s date, but another to potentially contribute to
E.M.M.A.’s development. “So I’m not just being creepy, I’m being . . . scientifically creepy?”
Tony chuckles. “Let’s call it ‘field testing.’ Your instincts about Gale have been spot-on before. If they align with E.M.M.A.’s
predictions, we could be onto something big.”
I sigh, knowing I’m going to agree even as a part of me dreads tomorrow. “Fine.”
“Just roll with it and be your usual observant self. Oh, and Harriet?” His expression turns slightly mischievous. “Try not
to let your feelings cloud your judgment, okay?”
I feel my cheeks burn as I leave the office, pointedly ignoring that last comment. I barely make it three steps before running
into Hana and Amir huddled by the coffee machine.
“Whoa, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Hana says, abandoning her coffee stirring. “Everything okay with Tony?”
“I’m fine.” The words come out too fast, too brittle. “Just . . . tired.”
Amir’s eyebrows shoot up. “Bullshit. You just cracked your knuckles. Something is up.”
I ball my hands at my sides, forcing them still.
“Come on.” Hana leans in, voice softening. “You can trust us. Whatever it is . . .”
“I do.” The lie tastes bitter. I paste on my best team leader smile. “Really. It’s nothing.” Because explaining any of what
is happening with Gale, dating, it’s too much. They don’t need my mess.
They exchange that look, the one that says they’re not buying it but don’t know how to push harder. Good. I can’t deal with
their concern right now, can’t risk them putting the pieces together.
“Just having a case of the Mondays,” I say brightly, already edging toward the exit. Spying on the guy I’m definitely not
falling for while he’s on a date with someone else—a date I set up, no less? Yeah, this has “flawless plan” written all over
it. What could possibly go wrong? But hey, it’s for science, right? I’ll just be over here, collecting data on my slow descent
into madness. Maybe I’ll write a groundbreaking paper: “Machine Learning for Misery: Algorithmic Approaches to Optimizing
Third-Wheel Discomfort.” That’ll turn heads at the next conference.
I slink into South Congress Grill feeling like a second-rate spy in a B movie. My “disguise” consists of a pair of oversized
sunglasses and a silk scarf tied under my chin like I’m auditioning for a community theater production of Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
“Except you’re no Audrey Hepburn,” I mutter to myself as I nearly trip over my own feet.
I spot Gale and Jasmine at a corner table in an instant.
They look perfect together—him with his chiseled jawline and hockey-honed physique, her with legs for days and the kind of effortless grace that comes from being fully grounded in your body.
I try to squash the little gremlin of jealousy gnawing at my insides.
“Focus, Harriet,” I hiss. I settle at a nearby table, as close as I dare, hiding behind a potted tree and an enormous menu
and trying not to look like the spy I am.
As the hour wears on, from the little I can hear, Gale and Jasmine seem to be hitting it off . . . in the most boring way
possible. They swap stories about their cats, compare notes on protein recipes, and dive deep into the thrilling world of
sports medicine advancements.
Just as I’m contemplating drowning my sorrows in a giant slice of tiramisu, Gale excuses himself to take a call, leaving Jasmine
alone at the table.
I don’t know what possesses me—temporary insanity, maybe, or just a desperate need to stretch my cramping legs—but I find
myself walking past their table. Jasmine catches my eye in less than a second.
“Hey,” she says, her voice curious. “Harriet, right? From TrainTech? You’re the one who set us up, and I recognized you from
all the photos Gale keeps showing me.” Her smile turns knowing, but there’s a hint of confusion in her brown eyes. “He’s a
great guy, you know. Smart, funny, passionate about his career. But . . . can I ask why you’re lurking? Is this part of the
project?”
I gulp, realizing I can’t wiggle out of this one. “Yes, exactly, you’ve got it . . . it’s part of the E.M.M.A. protocols.
I’m here for human verification.”
“Human verification?” Jasmine leans in, intrigued.
I nod, grateful for her interest. “Yeah, it’s a crucial step in AI development. We call it ‘reality alignment testing.’ Basically,
we’re ensuring that E.M.M.A.’s perceptions and predictions match up with real-world interactions.”
“And you said all participants have to agree to monitoring, right?” Jasmine asks. “That’s what those forms were about at the beginning? I’ve seen celebrity NDAs before but this was different.”
“Exactly,” I say, relieved she remembers. “Everyone in the study consents to observation. We need to make sure E.M.M.A.’s
algorithms for compatibility and relationship dynamics are accurate. It’s all about bridging the gap between AI predictions
and human reality.”
Jasmine’s eyes light up. “That’s fascinating! Gale shared a bit about your project—what he could—but I had no idea it was
this complex.”
I feel a wave of relief wash over me coupled by guilt—I’m telling the truth and also not. “It is pretty interesting stuff.
But I have to admit, I feel a bit ridiculous sitting here in this getup.”
Jasmine chuckles. “I was wondering about the sunglasses-and-scarf combo. Very ‘incognito chic.’”
We share a laugh, and I’m struck by how easy it is to talk to her. Then her expression turns more serious.
“But,” she continues, her voice lowering conspiratorially, “can I level with you? It’s a little uncomfortable being on a date
with someone who’s so clearly into someone else.”
My heart twists. Even after the kisses Gale and I shared, after everything, I still can’t silence the doubts. “You don’t understand.
Gale . . . he’s charming and easygoing. And I’m the girl who’s always taking charge, pushing too hard. The one guys call ‘intimidating’
when they’re being nice about it.”
Jasmine’s eyes twinkle. “Come on, girl. The way he talks about you? The little smile he gets when your name comes up? It’s
obvious.”
I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. I probably look like a startled goldfish.
“Do yourself—and him—a favor,” Jasmine says gently before getting up from the table. “Put the poor guy out of his misery, yeah? Life’s too short for all this dancing around.”
I have to find Gale. He’s sitting on a bench outside the restaurant, his face pale and drawn. The playful spark in his eyes
has been extinguished, replaced by a haunted look that makes my stomach drop. Did I upset him popping up like this?
“Hey, I know it’s unexpected that I’m here, but I can explain . . .” I start.
He looks up at me, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s my dad. He’s . . . he’s dying, Harriet. The doctors say he has
a month, could be less. It’s strange, I knew this was coming, but to have the moment here at last . . .” He buries his face
in his hands.
My heart clenches. Without thinking, I sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“I’m so sorry.”
He leans into me, his body shuddering like a heart breaking in slow motion. In that moment, nothing else matters—not E.M.M.A.,
not our complicated history. Just being there for him.