“Was it worth the wait?”
The real answer? No, of course not, and it’s nobody’s fault, more a problem with the science of the thing as a whole.
“Did you know Timothy Leary invented the internet, high on acid, standing under a full moon, howling like a wolf. Yes, he was naked. Yes, he was erect,” he offers- knowing which direction her mind would go.
“If only the personal video camera had been a thing then, huh,” she says and he chuckles, hating himself for it. For needing her, for wanting her, for still being susceptible to her.
Being bonded, like they were, was permanent. Irrevokable. It’s what they thought they wanted, one for all and all for one. She became more than a partner, she became his symbiote, connected in everything for always, as the commercial jingle sang.
It was romantic.
At the time.
It created something indispensable. It was a mutually cooperative connection of minds, a collection of mutual respect, and unconditional love. A total understanding of wants and needs.
But now Barry now sees the problem with it and what he really wishes, is to go back to the life he knew before.
That, though, is impossible.
Now, she’s his heroin, his drug of choice, his modus operandi, and he needs her all the time.
But he has devised a solution for that.
“Eve,” he says taking a breath, “We need to break up.”
He turns and two things are evident.
Where he got the pistol is an adventure all on its own, but the fact he has no clue how the thing functions is quite unfortunate as he points it at his symbiote and tries to squeeze the trigger.
“Safeties on,” she says, firing first, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
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