1
Astrid
—
Astrid climbed out of her hovercar, squinting from the sunshine spilling through the gaps of the parking silo.
The hovercar’s door creaked as she closed it. When it stubbornly swung open again, she scowled and slammed it shut even harder.
“Piece of junk,” Astrid muttered.
It was her first hovercar, a seventeenth birthday gift from her parents eight years ago. Sometimes it wouldn’t turn on until after several attempts. When it did work, it randomly sounded groans and clangs, drawing the uneasy attention of other drivers.
Each time she climbed into the worn interior, Astrid drove with a trepidation the Road Safety Patrol would pull her over and fine her for zooming around in a death trap. Or the hovercar would simply shut off on one of the Mid Air Pathways and murder her in a fiery crash.
Oh, well. She was a self-employed game developer, so at least she didn’t need to get around often. And after she’d paid rent this morning, only thirty Earth Credits remained to her identity chip. That was barely enough to buy food let alone afford delivery service or a new hovercar.
Turning away from her beaten up vehicle, Astrid went past the other nicer, newer hovercars for the nearest conveyor. The towering parking silo seemed sparse today. Not as many vehicles in the individual boxes on each circular level.
Astrid stepped onto the conveyor and it swept her along toward the looming rectangular building. Far below, people milled about on the ground floor like ants. A tiny shiver raced through Astrid at the severe drop, so she focused straight ahead once more.
Metal strips divided the approaching building’s glass exterior into equal blocks. In each of these blocks flashed advertisements about in-store products and limited-time discounts. A few steps ahead of her, a trio chatted animatedly, pointing and marvelling at things through the glass walls of the conveyor.
Tourists, she thought.
“Welcome to Gamazan Groceries, Astrid Vassel,” greeted a hologram of a pretty woman at the store’s entrance. She looked incredibly lifelike, a slight shimmer the only tell she was not a real being. The holographic woman smiled and pointed at Astrid. “We see you. We follow you. We know what you want so you don’t have to.”
True to the hologram’s words, an advertisement of Astrid’s favourite soup tubes manifested on the lens of her Augmented Reality Communicator. Astrid blinked to cut it short.
As much as it irritated her whenever Gamazan Groceries shamelessly hijacked her ARC glasses to grab her identity and show her ads, she conceded it worked this time.
In this economy where food was rapidly becoming something only the wealthy could afford, a pack of forty soup tubes on sale for a steal at twenty Earth Credits couldn’t be ignored.
Astrid hustled toward the aisle they were located, striding past the rows of rotating holographic images of the products. Beneath each product display was the quantity left in stock. A smattering of shoppers wandered by, touching on the images of their choices to add it to their virtual cart.
During History class, Astrid learnt there was a time when Earth wasn’t so… simulated. A time when what one saw was what one got. It was there, real and whole, flaws and all. Not projected perfection.
At the end of the aisle, Astrid saw what she wanted. A large display advertised the 40-pack of soup tubes in all its bright and tantalizing glory. Those tubes would be her breakfast, lunch and dinner for the coming days until she got her advance from Gamazan Games.
Astrid raced toward it, her desperation mounting that only one remained in stock. She reached a hand out, ready to add the last package into her virtual cart when a hand came out of nowhere to her right and touched the image first.
“Hey!” Astrid said in frustration. She spun to face the owner of the offending hand. All the angry words rising from her chest died in her throat.
The man who’d stolen her food was six feet plus of muscle his white shirt strained to accommodate. Men who wore too-tight shirts made Astrid roll her eyes ten times out of ten, but she supposed today was a day of exceptions. Probably because his visibly fit body was accompanied by a handsome face.
His dark hair caressed his neck, the front smoothed back as if he hastily pushed the hair away from his forehead. He had a beard too and the sight of it hugging his strong jaw brought the dead back to life between Astrid’s legs.
“Hello to you too,” he said, smiling. Interest lit in his hazel eyes as he swept his gaze over her.
Astrid fought the urge to cover herself and back away while hissing, “Nooo! Cast your gaze away from this horror, oh beautiful stranger!”
Suffice it to say she hadn’t dressed to impress upon leaving home. Sweats, flip flops, and her hair thrown up into a haphazard ponytail was on order today. Even a pair of earrings might have upgraded her from resident ragamuffin to passably attractive...
Wait a minute. She shouldn’t care what he thought of her. This asshole just stole the last package of soup tubes right out from under her. There’s no way he hadn’t seen her reaching to touch the image.
And he had the gall to smile and make nice?
“I wasn’t greeting you,” Astrid said in icy tones, reapplying her scowl. “My ‘hey’ meant, ‘Hey, why did you steal my soup tubes?’”
He lifted an eyebrow, his smile shifting to somewhere between amused and condescending.
“Your soup tubes? Didn’t see your name on them.”
“I was reaching for them until you poached them.”
“Gotta move fast to claim every opportunity in life,” he said, shrugging. “A life lesson for you, sweetstuff. You’re welcome.”
Sweetstuff? Astrid quelled the voices in her head howling for his blood.
She sneered. “Save your ‘life lessons’ for someone who gives a crap.”
Handsome, fit, but one hundred percent Asshole with a capital A. Annoyed, Astrid turned to storm off in search of something else to purchase. Then an idea popped into her head.
“Hey,” she said again. When he faced her, Astrid flashed a flirtatious smile and reached for his hand. She tugged it toward her right breast and he resisted, his eyebrows drawn close together in confusion.
“What are you doing—”
Abruptly, Astrid shifted his hand and his fingertips grazed the image of the soup tubes. The stock quantity went back up to one before Astrid slapped her hand on the image, sending it back down to zero.
Childish delight seized Astrid. Blowing a raspberry at the man, she cackled and ran away to checkout her soup tubes.
Her triumph didn’t last long on the drive home. Doubt nagged at Astrid. She recalled the image of the sexy stranger. He wasn’t wearing an ARC glasses. While some people didn’t like the invasive nature of the ARC technology, there were many others who simply couldn’t afford them. She’d bought hers at a time when she possessed enough credits.
Sure he might have been an asshole to swipe the soup tubes from under her, but what if he needed them? What if the tubes were all he could afford?
It was all I could afford, too. Yet guilt replaced the doubt, pecking at her like carrion birds. When she got home, Astrid put all thoughts of the stranger out of her mind. She sipped the tasty beef-flavoured contents from one of the tubes as she sat down and checked her messages via her ARC.
She had one new message. CELESTIAL MATES - Congratulations, Astrid! You’ve been matched with... read the subject line. A shiver of excitement raced along her spine.
Plagued by loneliness and her best friend’s insistence all work and no dick made for a sad life indeed, Astrid decided to give dating a try again. At Kanon’s guidance, Astrid signed up to a dating service called Celestial Mates which promised a perfect match with one’s ‘fated mate’.
Unlike Kanon, Astrid didn’t believe in such nonsense. She’d only signed up for the possibility of connecting with someone of a similar mindset as hers—career-focused and only in search of physical intimacy. Nothing about love or soul mates. Not right now when she was fighting to keep her head above water and make something of herself.
She’d been in love with her last boyfriend, Vonn, and had borne the consequence of that mistake. The day she quit her job to chase her dream into game development, the fluttery butterflies in her stomach were murdered at laser gunpoint. The maggots of jealousy, discord and lack of support from someone who once claimed they loved her feasted on the corpses.
She blinked to open the message and it expanded into a note.
Congratulations, Astrid! After scouring the galaxy and various time periods, we’ve found your match! We’re happy to announce you’ve achieved an astounding compatibility score of 98.7% with your fated mate, Liam Cross! Please keep scrolling to see the attached picture of Liam—
INCOMING VIDEO CALL FROM KANON MALT cut across her ARC lens before Astrid had the chance to see the picture of her supposed fated mate. Quickly closing the messaging application, she answered her friend’s call.
“Bitch, you alive?” greeted Kanon, a projected window of her popping into view. A smile curved her cherry-red lips. Her mass of curls were hauled up to the top of her head in a girlish bun. A row of gold earrings marched along her earlobes.
As usual, Kanon’s long nails were painted in flamboyant designs. Today’s nail art featured pink flamingos amid a spray of silver glitter.
“Barely.”
“Barely’s good.” Kanon grinned. “Good enough for you to come to the party I’m throwing in an hour.”
Astrid frowned. “An hour? Kanon, that’s really short notice.”
“I know, but I’m bored. Today’s my day-off from work. Plus, I want you to meet Tank.”
“Who’s Tank?”
“New guy I’m seeing,” said Kanon. “So you’re coming right?”
“I don’t know, Kanon...”
Her deadline to submit the changes Gamazan Games required was only two days away. She desperately needed the advance the game publishing company would provide once she gave them what they wanted. Without that advance, she’d be forced to look for work. Forced to hear Vonn’s awful voice in her head crowing he knew she would fail.
“Please say yes,” begged Kanon. “You’re practically a hermit these days! Come have some fun. Maybe find a hot guy to clear out the cobwebs up inside your—”
“Fine!” Astrid cut in. “I’ll come.”
“Yes!” Kanon pumped a fist in the air. “I’ll send you the address. Oh, and dress hot. None of that baggy t-shirt and jeans you love so much.” Then Kanon ended the call.
Astrid stood and made her way into her bedroom, deciding she’d make do with the time left in her deadline.
After all, having a day off wouldn’t kill her, right?