I have a hot date tonight! No, not me here on Sigma 957; I'm at least 430 light years from the nearest restaurant if I'm calculating right, and if Rook's Pawn has restaurants. I don't know -- I've never been there. Right here right now I'm half a continent from the nearest human. And I think that's probably Jalyn anyway.
No, I'm talking about the me on Earth, twelve years younger and stupidly naive, getting ready for a date with the handsome Sven wu-Wendling. I was -- or rather I will be -- wearing my titanium sandals. Metal shoes were all the rage at the time, and they were remarkably comfortable plus super sexy with their woven titanium straps and shiny machined surfaces. Also if he got fresh I could kick his teeth in.
He didn't get fresh. He asked in a matter of fact way if I wanted to come home with him. I had a lie prepared but didn't use it. I just declined and we hung out for a while longer. He was pretty cool for an e1. Still, we had a second date and then things just petered out. At the time I felt rejected but looking back, frankly, he was insufferable. He only talked about his own research and how important it was, and the various tedious flaws he found in everyone else's. Don't know why I found him interesting or why I brooded about his lack of interest. Dodged a bullet there I suspect.
No message needed from the me from the future -- past me ended up right even if she was depressed about it.
The search for intelligence in the universe is like looking for human love. That one "other" that will confirm for you that you're special. And you never find it.
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