The truth about zombies is far different than the myths.
They don't feed on brains.
There is no "apocalypse" when they show up.
Their bodies are cold to the touch, but not bone-chillingly cold.
How do I know all this? I am about to tell you.
10 years ago, the first reports began coming in. We had already had a massive die-off of humans a century before, thanks to climate change effects, and the 50 million survivors radically altered human society. Gone were megacorporations, religion, bigotry and authoritarianism: in were using computers to assist with finding a way forward and a collective effort to work together as one race, one species, to better ourselves.
And then reports came in that dead people had been coming back to life.
At first, they were disbelieved. But gradually, more and more reports surfaced, and scientists checked and confirmed them.
We didn't yet know how. But within a year, that mystery was solved as well. The supercomputers that now ran society and their robot assistants had found a way to bring young humans (the process didn't work on ones who died of old age or were killed violently in some way, but young ones - people less than 40 years old - who died, say, of heart failure were good candidates) back to life. Since reproduction was strictly controlled, they had decided they couln't afford to lose people that young - they wanted the human population to be stable, not decrease.
That's not to say that zombies were hugely common. After all, not a lot of people, even in the days before our new computer-controlled society, died of a heart attack at 40 or leukemia at 27 or pneumonia at 18. But maybe one out of every thousand adults was one, so in a reasonably large city there were enough to be noticed and pretty much everyone was acquainted with one. Perhaps a co-worker or the friend of a friend or someone you encountered at a party.
They didn't look outwardly different than non-zombies, either. Their skin wasn't pale white and they didn't shuffle instead of walk. They could talk normally, and laughed at the old media showing zombies shuffling forward groaning out, "BRAIIIIINS."
The only way you could tell for sure was if you touched their skin. Their body temperature was noticeably cooler than non-zombies (although their skin wasn't icy cold.) Also, they were obligate carnivores. Something about the process made their bodies unable to handle vegetables and fruits - not that they would die if they consumed such things, but they would gain zero nutrition from them. To stay healthy they had to have meat. Animal meat was fine and they didn't need any more than a normal human. Most of them seemed particularly partial to a good beefsteak, but then again, a lot of non-zombies also were. A good, well-marbled steak cooked properly is one of life's great pleasures when you eat it.
So where do I come in, you ask?
I was a single man in my 30's looking for a female to share my life with. But this particular afternoon, I was at the local sports bar cheering on my team. The bar had a 120-inch hypervision set. I was wearing my team jacket and had just placed an order for a Kipburger (their specialty: it's a hamburger with barbecue sauce, avocado, bacon, tomatoes, mustard and pickles.)
"Maybe you could buy me one as well."
The woman to my left and behind me was wearing a jacket supporting the same team I was. She was about my height, trim, toned, and had green eyes and red hair that came down to her shoulders.
"Make that two Kipburgers," I told the robot waiter.
The woman took a seat next to me. "Thanks. I'm Theresa, but my friends call me Terri."
"I'm Charles, but my friends call me Chuck."
Terri giggled. "Fair enough. So what are you doing here?"
I gestured to where the team both Terri and I were supporting had just scored. "Watching the game."
"And possibly looking for companionship?"
Very direct.
"Well, I am, but I wasn't thinking about that today."
"I'm unattached. Presumably so are you. Obviously liking the same team isn't alone reason enough to be lifetime companions, but perhaps we could get to know each other a bit and see what, if anything, develops."
That sounded very reasonable. We exchanged contact information, watched the game, and ate our Kipburgers.
