The Future in Our Stars

Author's Note

Like part one of The Future in Our Stars, this tale is structured more to make you think about 'what if?' than to get you off. Please consider that before you dive in.

This story introduces each scene with fictitious quotes using the characters Dick, Jane and Sally. These are names that U.S. readers of a certain age may remember from their Scott Foresman-published basal readers. I got the idea after reading Toni Morrison's book, The Bluest Eye. (It's a frequent target of book banning zealots, so you know it's good.)

I am in no way asserting that I'm even in the same league with Miss Morrison. I just like the way she used Scott Foresman's stereotypical white, suburban family, to contrast with the characters in her story. And, as they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Enjoy,

WaxPhilosophic

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All text copyright (c)2020 WaxPhilosophic. No unauthorized reproduction is allowed.

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The Future in Our Stars, Part 2: The Artificial Girl

See Dick. See Dick wave to his mother. See Jane. See Jane wave to her mother. Sally does not have a mother. Sally was grown in a vat.

*

When puberty came upon me like a lion in the spring of seventy-six, I pretty much knew I was a lesbian. And I was okay with that. Lots of girls liked other girls, it was cool. We were nearing the end of the twenty-first century after all, and these days most folks would even go so far as to bake me a big gay cake for my big gay wedding.

But there would be no wedding for me, no cake—not because I was against the idea of marriage—but because I happened to fall in love with an artificial girl. And that was definitely not cool, at least not by society's standards.

"What's it like to have a mother?" She's always asking me stuff like that.

"That one looks like a penguin." I point to the big fluffy cumulonimbus overhead as we lie together on a grassy slope about a mile from my dorm. Her hand is dragged along with mine since our fingers are intertwined.

She pulls us back to earth and my knuckles end up nestled against her thigh. "You didn't answer my question."

"Or maybe it's a polar bear." I squint my eyes against the October sun and take another look into the blue.

"Maybe the polar bear ate the penguin," she says. "Because the penguin didn't answer her question."

"It sucks."

"Which one? The polar bear or the penguin?"

"Having a mother. It sucks. And polar bears don't eat penguins. They live at different poles."

She's propped herself up on an elbow now and is peering down at me, her eyes narrowed to slits. She always does that when she gets serious. And I always giggle, because it's just so damn adorable.

"Cut it out," she says.

I reach up to cup her cheek in my hand. "I can't," I say. "You're too cute. Your face gets all crinkly when you're deep in thought. I demand you make love to me this instant."

I watch the corners of her mouth turn down as I'm still busy grinning like a mad woman.

"If you really must know..." I put on an exaggerated pout for her benefit. She's not buying it.

"If you really must know, then I'll take you home over Thanksgiving break. You can find out firsthand just how dysfunctional a family can be."

"Seriously? You'd do that for me?"

"Yeah," I say. "Why wouldn't I?"

"It's just that I'm..."

"Oh, gawd." I throw the back of my hand against my forehead. "Nobody can love me. I was hatched from a beaker. Whoa is me." I roll over so that half of my body is covering her and peer into her face with my eyes crossed and my tongue lolling to one side.

She just stares. "You're so obnoxious."

"Make love to me." I pucker up and make smooching sounds.

She touches a finger to my cheek and I lower my mouth to taste her lips. I feel a smile forming under my touch and I am happy.

"I love you," I say, and kiss her again before she can respond.

*

See Dick. See Jane. See Dick and Jane play together at school. See Sally. Sally does not play with Dick and Jane. Sally works in a factory.

*

"I can't go," she says. "I have to work." Her voice sounds tinny and distant through the miniature speaker pressed against my ear.

"It's Thanksgiving. It's a national holiday. Eat turkey, fall asleep watching football. I think it's a law or something. Why else would the pilgrims have come here all the way from England?"

"Remember that new phone you said you wanted for Christmas?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you're not the only one. And in case you missed it, the only elves making phones these days are me and the other vat-born girls at the factory."

"I bet you're the cutest elf at the North Pole," I say. She can't see me smiling over the phone, but I think she can hear it in the tone of my voice.

"Stop," she says. But she laughs anyway.

"Seriously. You're an adorable elf. And I love you way more than Santa Claus does."

"Your elf still has to work."

"Can't you blow it off? Call in sick or something?"

Silence.

"I'm sorry, I'm being selfish."

"I wish I could. But it's a good job and I can't afford a blemish on my record."

"Good jobs don't make you work overtime on Thanksgiving."

"There are worse ways to make a living."

I sigh. I don't like it, but I know she's right. "It's not fair."

"Nobody ever said life was fair," she says.

I chew my lip as I weigh the facts of the situation in my mind.

"Come here after work," I say. "I'll make you dinner in my dorm room. It'll be microwaved frozen turkey dinners, but at least we'll be together."

I hear her sigh on the other end of the line.

"I'll tell my parents I've got strep throat or something. Everyone will be home except the international students. I'll sneak you in and we can spend the night together. A proper night in a real bed. What do you say?"

More silence.

"Come on. Please?"

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

*

See Jane. See Jane smile. See Sally. Sally smiles too. Jane's mother does not smile. Jane's mother says Sally does not belong here.

*

"You've got a little gravy there." I reach over and dab at the corner of her mouth with my finger. We're sitting cross-legged on my dorm room floor, with the late afternoon sun casting its light over the paper plates on our laps.

"So do you." She reaches over with her finger, but I intercept it with my mouth, gently holding her captive in my teeth as I swirl my tongue slowly around the tip. She shivers.

I smile as I release her. "Do not," I say.

I take her hand in mine and begin slowly outlining her fingers with my tongue while she lets out a soft moan. I love that about her—her innocence. The way she can lose herself in such a simple act. Something that other girls would see as an appetizer, a mere prelude of things to come, she is content to make the main course.

Turning her hand over, I begin planting tiny kisses over the inside of her wrist. Her gentle moaning continues and it makes me feel warm inside. I'm in no hurry. I rub her skin against my cheek as I profess my love for her.

"Bed?" she says, her eyes narrowed to dreamy slits.

"How about dessert? I bought pumpkin pie."

She answers by placing her hand on the back of my neck and pulling me in so that she can press her tongue into my mouth. I raise myself to standing just long enough to drag her over to my bed. Dessert can wait.

I invite Sally to lie down. She sheds her clothes, and just as we have done so many times on the cool grass of the hill in springtime. She sighs and settles onto her back to gaze up at me. For a moment, I am content just to study her. With her narrowed eyes and slightly parted lips, she oozes sexuality. But there is an innocence about her that makes me pause.

She extends an arm, beckoning me to join her. I take her hand and kiss her fingers one by one, pausing only to rid myself of my of the shirt and jeans I am wearing. Standing there in my underwear, I watch her chest rise and fall with the pace of her breathing. The more time I spend sucking the tips of her fingers, the quicker the pace. There is a pink color rising in the area between her breasts.

"Come to bed," she whispers, slowly pulling her hand back as encouragement. I quickly shed the remainder of my clothing and follow her down to curl up against her side. She is warm and inviting, her chest still heaving. I roll toward her and lay my tongue in the valley of her breasts, kissing and licking my way to her chin.

"I want you," I whisper.

I hear nothing but a shuddering breath leaving her mouth, and I smile.

"I want you now." I set my fingers wandering lightly over the skin of her neck, tracing out random curves as she weaves her hand in my hair and begins attacking my mouth.

I pull back. "We've got time," I say, "let me take care of you."

Sally relaxes her grip, but keeps her fingers wound in my hair. I lean in to lay three short pecks on her lips.

"Just lie still," I say, placing a finger across her lips. "If you can."

I kiss her once more, on the nose this time, as I make my journey lower. She traps my finger in her mouth as I make my departure. I trace the outline of her collarbone as she moans. I feel her tongue swirling over the tip of my finger as I reach the tops of her breasts.

I take my time, kissing, drawing intricate patterns with my tongue and caressing with my free hand. By the time I actually draw her nipple into my mouth, her back is arched, pressing her warm flesh into my face. I moan as she stiffens in my mouth, and set my free hand to wander.

As my fingers dance over the skin of her stomach, I can feel her hips bucking, grinding into the flannel sheets underneath her. She has both hands in my hair now, but so far is not being forceful about where she wants me to go. I know where she wants me to go. I can smell her heat.

After giving both nipples a good slathering, I move slowly downward to kiss the quivering flesh of her taut belly. I've sent my wandering hand to explore her thighs now, completely bypassing her sex. So far, she's being civilized, but I don't know how much longer that will last.

I press her leg to the side and move my mouth lower still. Her thigh is shaking and there is a constant moan from her, ever since I got low enough that she could no longer keep sucking on my finger. With both hands available to me now, I push myself up on my elbows and look down upon the ripening flower that is her sex. I blow a stream of air over the top of her mound. That's when civility ends.

"Oh, my... Damn it!" she yells. "Do it already. Fuck me."

I am more than happy to oblige and plunge my tongue deep to taste her hot, tangy nectar. Leaning on one elbow, it's easy to part her with a pair of fingers. My motions are effortless against the torrent of moisture that has been building. I quickly find her favorite place and linger there with a gentle touch.

Sally is arching her back, moving her hips, encouraging me to take all of her in my mouth and to fill her with my fingers. I do so gladly and smile as she rapidly comes apart under my touch. My tongue is weary from painting so many tiny circles, and my fingers feel as if they are near the breaking point, but I persist, and I am rewarded.

Sally's breathing turns to ragged gasps as her body begins to spasm and shudder. This is when I know I have her—that I have succeeded in my mission to make her tear apart at the seams.

"Oh, gawd!" she yells. That is the last intelligible thing to cross her lips. Everything else is a jumble of grunts and squeaks. I do my best to hang on.

"Oh, my gawd," she says. "Oh, my gawd, that was incredible. Get up here."

She's pawing at my shoulder.

"Are you sure you don't want to—"

Her response is so eloquent. "Get up here and straddle my face goddammit, or I swear I'm never speaking to you again."

"Yes, ma'am." I grin and turn around so that she can guide my hips to where she wants them. "Mmm."

Sally's tongue is warm and inviting. And there's something else. She's humming as she licks me. It's just random notes, and I have no idea where she came up with the tune or the technique, but it's certainly working. Between the humming, and the licking, and the fact that I can still feel her juices on my cheeks and chin, I shudder violently.

I am just leaning forward to return the favor when, from across the room, I hear the click of the door latch. My stomach clenches as my thoughts quickly turn to the list of people who might have a keycard and PIN. It's a short list—building maintenance, or my family.

Sally is oblivious to the noise of the latch and the abject terror I am experiencing. Her tongue never stops.

It has to be one of the oddest and most disturbing sensations in my life, that just as I am about to climax a second time, I see my mother's frowning face framed in the open doorway. The picnic basket in her hands falls to the floor, landing with a crash of china and cutlery.

*

Mother is not happy. She slaps Jane's face. Jane says, "ouch." Sally runs out the door. Mother pushes Sally down the stairs. Sally does not say anything. Sally does not get up.

*

Central campus, several weeks later

"Miss Smith." The woman hurries toward me. "Miss Smith, I'm wondering if I might have a word."

I clench my jaw and turn to walk the other way. "My lawyer's name is Marcia Cohen. She'll give you a statement," I say over my shoulder.

The woman closes the distance by jogging over too me. "Miss Smith, I'd like to talk to you about your girlfriend—"

I could taste the bile rising in my throat. "Fucking paparazzi!" I spat at her. "You're all the same. Get lost!"

"Miss Smith." She steps back, digging in her pocket for something. "Her name was Sally. That's what you named her, wasn't it?"

The woman produces a single business card. I notice it's slightly bent on one corner. I don't know why I fixate on that. I stand frozen, staring at that tattered corner, my fist clenching.

She holds the card out. "I'd like to—"

"Listen lady, I told you, my lawyer's name is Marcia—"

"I'm not paparazzi. I'm not even a journalist. The only thing I write are scientific papers. So if you would just hear me out—"

I pull my phone from my pocket. "You've got thirty seconds. After that I'm dialing campus police and reporting you for harassment."

"Miss Smith, my name is Sabine Richardson. I'm an artificial intelligence researcher. I'd like to know more about Sally." She let her arm fall—the one that had been holding out the business card, waiting for me to take it. "I figured you're her next of kin. Not in a legal sense of course, but—"

"Do you know they didn't even give her a funeral? They sent her body to a scrap pile for recycling. How fucked up is that?" I threw my hands in the air. "Like she's not even a human being. Some company grew her in a lab so, what? They fucking own her?"

The tears start leaking from my eyes, the way they do whenever I think of Sally these days. Sabine Richardson stuffs the business card back in her pocket and lays a gentle hand on my arm.

"I know where the sent her, Miss Smith. It's exactly like you said... where I found her. That's why I need—"

"You know where Sally is?"

"I do, Miss Smith." she covers my hand with hers and looks directly in my eyes. "Your girlfriend Sally... she's in my lab. Alive, but in an induced coma. And I have some questions that I'd need to ask you before—"

I didn't hear the rest. I was too busy sobbing into her coat sleeve to pay attention to what she was saying.

The End... For Now

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Afterword

Sorry about the unresolved ending (sort of) but how else am I going to get you to read part three when it comes out?