A Perfect World: An Erotic Science Fiction Short Story by Kris Cook

A Perfect World

 
    Seana’s maternal clock vexed me with each tick tock. If it
had been audible, it would’ve also disturbed the other passengers. The little
voice in my head kept shouting that this was my last chance to help her before
our hopes would be silenced forever. I knew that the long shot at the end of
this trip had less of a chance of working out than a snow cone in hell.
    Fuck!
    I turned toward her. As always, she looked perfect. Her
blonde locks hit her soft shoulders like sunlit waterfalls. Dressed to the
nines in an outfit that flattered her amazing figure, she seemed ready to face
anything. Yet, her hand wringing and constant sighing revealed the storm
brewing beneath the untainted façade. The more she fidgeted, the more it drove
me insane… and we still had forty-five minutes left until we landed, not that
it really mattered anymore.
    She asked me for the millionth and one time what I thought
he would say.
    “I don’t know,” I stated, giving my same answer and readying
for the long pointless discussion to follow.
    Seana glared at me with her hazel eyes, daring me to add
anything further.
    Knowing this signal all too well and happy not to reawaken
another debate, I remained mute and rested my eyes on a warm, unspoiled beach.
I scanned the holographic image and the accompanying words floating next to it
about numerous vacation destinations. Our coach tickets afforded us this level
of surfing, but they didn’t allow us access to sound, smell, or any other
deeper simming. But for a lofty fee, even the lowly coach traveler could
upgrade in transit. I wished the Caribbean or some other island was our final
destination instead of Dallas. Maybe next year, I thought. But I knew better.
    “Don’t give me that, Gregory Michael.” Her tone delivered a
sting. I hated when she called me that, like I was the densest person in the
world and it was her duty to scold me.
    “Give you what?” I asked innocently.
    It was the verbal dance we’d created over eight years of
marriage. One. Two. Three. A shower of expletives from that beautiful mouth.
One. Two. Three. A genuine apology. One. Two. Three. The waltz would finish in
a final dip and a kiss, followed by wonderful make-up sex.
    Seana began to mouth an answer that I suspected might make
several jaws drop, but she stopped suddenly and only shook her head. She seemed
like she was about to cry, and my gut clenched. I grabbed her hand, and she
squeezed back.
    Public tears were evaded. I was glad. She didn’t like to
show any vulnerability, even to me. I was certain that I was the only one who
had ever seen her shed a tear, and then only once when her employment review
came in with only a Meets Expectations .
    “Greg, I’m sure it seems ludicrous to you, but we just have
to convince him.”
    “I know, sweetheart.” And I did.
    Her urgency and despair had grown well beyond my capacity to
share. Yet, I had caught some of the fervor when her mother’s grandfather had
died in a diving accident seven months ago. I had thought our dream might
actually happen and let myself imagine what it would be like to have a baby in
our house. Unfortunately, his new wife’s nephew got everything, including what
we wanted.
    “But you’ve seen William’s Vid; you know about his life. How
are we going to do it?” The panic in her voice was heartbreaking. Rather than
make any suggestions, I put my arm around her. She leaned in to me and closed
her eyes.
    “Request for sim,” I ordered. Instantly the beach and the
article disappeared replaced by the familiar authorization prompt.
    “Gregory Michael Links, seven-three-six-beta-Missouri,” I
confirmed. After the ident-scan, several selections appeared.
    “Waves and gulls, first level, seats thirty-seven A and
thirty-seven B.” The computer complied, adding the desired birds and sounds
created to relax the unseasoned traveler. I worried that the cost would be much
higher since it was added to our tickets and not