June, this year #5
That server, back in Chicago at an event very like this one, spilling a tray of champagne, eventually resulted in one of the most revolutionary technologies this world has ever seen. Via my relationship with one man.
I nod at Amir, slowly. A word he used has stuck with me. “Pervasive?” I raise an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
He takes a sip of a dark brown drink over ice.
“It is not meant to be, my dear.” He gives his head a tiny shake.
“Something that was invented with the best of intentions, now being used by your government to monitor and control not only its own citizens — the sheeple, as they say — but any and all humans using this technology.”
Amir leans in, lowering his voice. “Rest assured, you will never find my compatriots using Contact. Cellphones and social media are dangerous enough for monitoring behavior — we won’t be placing insidious tracker implants in our eyes that can pass information on my people’s habits and whereabouts to your government.
Not to mention, potentially sending us subliminal messages that we can barely perceive, in order to do their bidding. ” He grins again, too close.
My pulse races and I take a step back, with a slight scoffing laugh.
“Mr. Habib, I’m sure you’re exaggerating.
But of course, what technology you and your compatriots use is entirely up to you.
” I take a swig to finish the rest of my drink.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Evan and a fresh glass of champagne. ”
I turn and stride away, slightly shaken, wobbling a little in my heels on the carpet.
I had scoffed, but the truth is, I don’t know that Contact isn’t selling data to the government to monitor US or other citizens.
And I don’t believe Contact would ever send subliminal messages to users, but I do know any technology can be hacked, and that rules can change in times of crisis or war.
I’d be na?ve to think that wasn’t ever a possibility.
This tech, built for convenience, communication, and to help those in need — technology that I was instrumental in advancing — might at some point be used for evil.
Evan being celebrated tonight for winning the Tech For Global Good award is beginning to have a sour taste in my mouth.
My billionaire boyfriend finds me at the bar, reaching for another drink. He slips an arm around my waist. “Don’t let me deny you another champagne, but I’m about ready to get outta here. I’ve got to drive us home, and I have an early flight in the morning.”
I turn to him in surprise. It’s the first I’ve heard of his flight tomorrow.
He squints at me. “Don’t tell me you forgot about my trip to DC. My flight leaves at eight a.m. so I can be there in time for the senator’s meet and greet.”
I smile at him, feigning dumbness. “Sorry. Totally forgot,” I lie. I put the glass back down. “Let’s head out.”
We make our way out of the ballroom, although it takes some time as people come up to Evan on the way, wanting to chat or say goodbye.
Evan is the perfect statesman, greeting them all warmly, and deftly moving on without making them feel slighted.
We eventually make it out to the porte-cochere, where the valet rushes to retrieve our car.
“Who was that mysterious guy you were talking to so closely?” he asks me, as we wait.
I blow out a breath. “Random dude. Said his name was . . . Amir Habib.” I pause.
“Speaking of DC and senators, he was pretty shady with me about Contact. Talking about how it had been corrupted from something to help the partially sighted and deaf communities into a tool for the government to monitor the ‘sheeple,’ as he put it.” I screw up my nose.
“He was a bit intense. I had to extricate myself.”
Evan nods slowly, scanning the drive for his Tesla. “Sorry you had to deal with that. I hate that the position I’m in with the feds is trickling down to you. It’s hard for me, you know that — but it shouldn’t be tough on you, too.”
What’s hard for him?
What’s the trip to DC about, meeting with politicians? What “position” is he in? What are the feds asking of him?
But I can’t ask him that. Clearly, I’m supposed to already know. Maybe this version of me knows stuff she shouldn’t.
Maybe it’s not such a charmed life, after all.
Maybe it’s time to get out. Back to Lake Bluff to reset.
And Evan is going away tomorrow, for several days.
That gives me the perfect opportunity to get back to Chicago without him noticing I’ve disappeared for another twenty-four hours.
The other Millie will be back in San Francisco by Monday, and Evan will never know the difference.
Unless, of course, he checks her Contact geolocation.
I’ll leave her a note to tell her why she’s finding herself in Chicago, and make sure she talks to Evan about the dangers of Contact. I’ll even book her a flight home. But more than that, I cannot do.
Back at the house, upstairs in bed, Evan and I crash out. He’s a good man, but I can’t be with him. I don’t love him, he’s not my partner — and he’s not my problem.
In the morning, after he’s gone, I’ll be gone too.