'Bibbity bibbity beep... bibbity bibbity beep...'
It wasn't at all surprising, when my smartwatch started ringing out that familiar old chime, its screen flashing blue with warning. It happened every day -- as it does to everyone, these days. It usually came along in the early afternoon, for me; sometimes earlier if something got me riled, sometimes later if I was tired or flat or feeling down, but almost always at the most inconvenient time.
And always daily. Once a day, every day. Same as for everyone else. All of us who have survived. Everyone, everywhere.
And while it wasn't surprising to hear that chime, it was vexing all the same. I had been having a very nice Saturday afternoon. I had brought my kids to a birthday party, for the daughter of one of my ex's BFFs. My ex, Kimberly, was working an afternoon shift down at the hospital, but I had always got along with her circle of friends, and I had maintained good terms with all of them even after the breakup. So I was happy to bring the kids along to celebrate their friend's birthday, and I had been having a nice time myself, chatting and laughing with Kimberly's circle, many of whom I counted as close friends of my own.
And now here I was, with my smartwatch beeping at me -- telling me I had ninety minutes to find someone to have sex with. Or I would die.
I quickly fought down the usual rising sense of dread. 'It's okay,' I thought to myself as I muted my watch. 'I can do this. I did it yesterday; I'll do it today; and I'll do it again tomorrow. I'm not dying today,' I told myself, as I did every day.
I looked around the crowded party room, filled with presents and cake and decorations --- and unheeding children, all of whom were thankfully spared of this malady --- and I found I was attracting a few sympathetic expressions from my fellow parents and adults. We all knew the drill. Our BlueAlert apps all made the same noise to alert us, so they all knew exactly the state I had found myself in. "Code Blue?" asked Jeff, husband to one of my ex's besties.
"Yup," I sighed. "I'd better scoot. Are you guys right to keep an eye on my kids for me?"
"Yeah Steve, we're fine," nodded Toni, Jeff's missus. "We'll watch your kids, we won't need to go anywhere. Jeff and I always do the deed in the mornings, to keep the Mist at bay."
I nodded; lots of couples did the same, it was a smart tactic. It did a lot to reduce the risk of copping a 'Code Blue' at some random time during the day. Single life was certainly a lot more perilous than coupling up, these days!
"I'll try not to be gone too long," I promised them as I prepared to leave.
"Aw go on, Steve," Jeff began, as a dirty grin sprouted on his face. "At least make it worth the lucky lady's time."
"Jeff!" Toni scolded, rolling her eyes as Jeff cackled wickedly.
I couldn't help but match Jeff's grin. "I'll give it my best shot, mate," I promised him, even as I headed for the door.
***
As I stepped out into the car park, phone in hand to load up the LifeSaver app, I couldn't help but dwell on the turn life had taken in these short three months since the 'Blue Mist' swept the world.
There was once a time when a lady like Toni would never have stated so casually that she and Jeff fuck each other first thing every morning. There was once a time when Jeff and I would have never cajoled so openly about me dashing out to get my rocks off. Hell: once upon a time I would have been mortified to know that a whole room-full of people could see that I was gagging for a shag, alerted to the fact by the tell-tale 'bippity bippity beep'ing of a smartwatch warning.
But these were the times we all faced. All of us.
The Blue Mist was a thing. It was real. It had claimed millions of lives the world over, during the initial wave before the symptoms (a growing blue mist in one's vision, followed by shortness of breath, palpitations, and ultimately, coronary arrest), and the treatment (coming to orgasm during sex would clear the mist and buy us another day -- masturbation wouldn't cut it, it was sex or it was death), were officially linked. And even now, after months of the whole world living with the condition, every day thousands of folks still lost their lives -- usually due to some set of circumstances that saw them unwilling or unable to achieve sexual release before their hearts seized. Claimed by the Mist.
We had all lost people. Friends. Family. So many of our older generations were lost during the first wave that the average age of our nation had dropped by twenty years. We had thought Covid was bad -- and it was -- but the speed with which this new malady spread across the world, and the sheer scale of lives lost to the Mist, put the old coronavirus well in the shade. Plenty of us had close calls with death, especially in the early days before the BlueAlert and LifeSaver apps came out. I myself have memories of my whole field of vision drowned in that awful, vivid, iridescent blue, sprinting madly through the streets, crying out for help, for a shag, for someone or anyone to save my life...
"Umm, Steve?"
I started -- I realised I had been staring unseeing at my phone, the LifeSaver app well and truly loaded, showing details and locations of ladies in my immediate area who were also Coding at that very moment; also seeking a partner, willing to get it on in the name of staying alive.
I turned around, and I saw Renae. Another friend of Kimberly's, Renae was slim in build and petite in figure, yet with an awesome athletic gym-toned rumpiness to her rear end, her face fair and pretty and always smiling, approachable and open.
"Oh hey -- sorry Renae," I said, as I regathered my thoughts.
"I saw you rushing for the door," she observed, ever the hostess -- it was her little girl's party we were attending, and she seemed concerned. "Everything okay?"
"Oh yeah, yeah," I assured her. I pulled a wry face, showing her the big blue alert screen on my watch face. "It's a Code Blue, that's all."
Renae's eyes fell to my timepiece for confirmation, and I saw something flash across her face -- too quickly for me to recognise or dwell upon. "Aha," she observed, in understanding. "I guess you and Kimmy didn't, uhh, take care of business this morning?" she needled, teasingly.
I pulled another wry face. "No, the kids were up too early, we didn't get a chance," I explained. I left out the part where Kimberly and I'd had another big fight last night, and neither of us were in the mood for preventative action that morning -- shagging on with an ex might be a convenient way to keep the Mist away, but it didn't always mean the greatest of times between the action.
"Fair enough," Renae returned; something in her tone had me suspecting that she already knew full well why Kim and I had not taken care of business this morning, Kim was never shy about airing out her grievances on her inner circle's WhatsApp chat. "So then: any decent action on LifeSaver, in this neck of the woods, this time of day?" Renae went on.
It seemed slightly odd to me that Renae would remove herself from her daughter's birthday party, to chat with me about my current Code Blue, and my prospects for action via LifeSaver. But I didn't question it too hard: I'd always had something of a heavy crush on Renae, going way back to when I first met her, and I did enjoy a chance to chat with her. "I haven't really looked at it yet," I confessed. "Trawling the app gets so grating, day in day out. I was probably just going to Google up the local Coupling Clinic and try my luck, face to face."
"The old fashioned 'meet and greet', eh?" said Renae. "Been a while since I've hit the 'meat Markets', myself."
