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Brownian Motion [MultiFormat]
eBook by Richard A. Lovett
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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: First there were the personals. Then speed dating. Now, thanks to the technology of holodating, Albert Barnett is on his 38th blind date in a week. The goal: find a mate in a telecommuting, got-to-have-it-yesterday business world--without the inconvenience of actually having to meet face-to-face. What could be more efficient?
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Analog, 2003
Fictionwise Release Date: May 2006
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [199 KB], eReader (PDB) [33 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [20 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [18 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [79 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [91 KB], hiebook (KML) [99 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [48 KB], iSilo (PDB) [16 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [21 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [49 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [29 KB]
Words: 5379
Reading time: 15-21 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
"It's a nice image: brownian motion describes the random interaction of molecules, which makes a nice metaphor for the apparent futility of dating. Molecules bouncing randomly off each other.... [L]ike Lovett's previous work, this is pleasantly readable."--Bluejack
Albert Barnett was on his thirty-eighth blind date of the week and finally feeling comfortable with the process. This one's name was Peg and they were meeting in the lobby of the Heathman Pub where she'd be easy to spot, even if she forgot the maroon windbreaker she'd promised to carry as a prop. Only once had Albert failed to identify his date quickly--and that one had wanted to meet, via holo, at a real singles dance. Everyone had been unattached, and they'd all given him the same hesitant once-over as he read endless "Hello, My name is..." tags, seeking a blonde, blue-eyed "April." The Heathman no longer existed except in holo-space, which meant that even if Albert had to resort to shouting Peg's name, the only people who'd notice would be other HoloDaters using the same set.
The week was an expensive experiment. The ad had arrived in Albert's mailbox three months before, and rather than tossing it immediately into the recycling bin, he'd stashed it in his guilt pile. There, it shared space with bank statements he might someday balance, fundraising letters from worthy causes, personal notes he once believed he'd find time to answer, and a select group of other ads. It depicted a happy couple holding hands and walking a beach in Hawaii, Tahiti, or somewhere else warm and tropical. They were tanned, toned, beautiful, obviously in love--and presumably paid models who'd never before seen each other. "Meet the person of your dreams ... in the setting of your choice," it began. "HoloDaters International announces the West Coast's first holographic dating service--not a chat room or a fantasy reality, but a 'transported' reality in which you and your date interact exactly as you would in real life. Trial offers from $1,995."
HoloDaters had probably obtained his name from one of the many groups Albert had attended during his too-many years as a supposedly eligible single in the New Economy. He was a computer troubleshooter for a Silicon Forest consulting firm that encouraged its employees to telecommute rather than fight traffic on Portland's Sunset Highway. The job was great for those with families--good, too, for Albert, who could live on the opposite side of town, near the airport for the way-too-many times he had to travel. But it was hell on the social life. He met plenty of women, but always in faraway places like London, Dallas, or Australia--his favorite country if it weren't for the jet lag. At home, never comfortable with the faux suave desperation of singles bars, he'd turned first to singles groups then to the personal ads, inspired by his best friend, who'd met his wife by answering her ad, proving that such methods sometimes produced happy results.
Holo-dating was new to him, but he knew enough about the technology to understand how it must work. You could beam a lifelike image anywhere within range of a holo-projection grid. A remote-sensing projector connected to a virtual reality headset would give you near-perfect video and audio feedback, and the latest nerve inducers even boasted taste and smell. Tactile feedback was more difficult, but it could be done well enough with a full-body VR suit.
Travel companies were scrambling to exploit the opportunities. Theoretically, holo technology might someday allow Albert to cut down on his travel, move to a trendier part of town, and at least occasionally work at company headquarters, where he could meet women who lived in his own part of the world. But projections were limited. They couldn't pick up real objects, couldn't peer into nooks and crannies too far removed from the projector. Such work had to be done in person.
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