No Compatibility Prediction

“You ordered exactly the same thing as me.”

Vale looked down at the two bowls.

“Yes.”

“That feels suspicious.”

“I didn’t have access to your order.”

“That’s exactly what someone with access to my order would say.”

Vale looked at her for a moment.

“All right.”

Noor waited.

That was apparently the entire response.

She picked up her fork.

Pair//Local had promised:

NO COMPATIBILITY PREDICTION.
NO BEHAVIORAL OPTIMIZATION.
JUST MEET SOMEBODY.

Noor had liked the advertisement.

After twelve minutes with Vale, she was beginning to appreciate why other services offered behavioral optimization.

The restaurant was small and overheated from an open kitchen. Their table had been placed close enough to the neighboring one that Noor already knew a stranger named Pemi was probably going to resign from his job on Monday.

Vale was synthetic, broad-shouldered, neatly dressed, and employed as a lift inspector.

Noor knew this because Pair//Local allowed occupation to remain visible.

She also knew it because Vale had spent several minutes discussing lift inspections.

Not metaphorically.

Actual lifts.

“The doors aren’t usually the dangerous part,” he said.

“I didn’t know I had a preferred dangerous part.”

“Most people assume doors.”

“I have never thought about a lift trying to kill me.”

“It isn’t trying to.”

“That helps.”

Vale nodded.

Noor could not tell whether he had missed the joke or declined it.

She ate.

He ate too.

“You don’t have to do that for me,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Eat.”

“I ordered food.”

“I know.”

“I like food.”

“Oh.”

Vale put down his fork.

“Did Pair//Local tell you I don’t?”

“No.”

“Then why did you assume?”

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

“Fair.”

A server arrived carrying two small plates.

“Your dumplings.”

“We didn’t order dumplings,” Vale said.

“They’re for fourteen.”

“This is fourteen.”

The server looked at the table number.

Then at another table.

“No. You’re sixteen.”

The metal number on their table clearly said fourteen.

There was a short investigation.

The dumplings remained.

“Kitchen says keep them,” the server said finally.

“I’ll take one,” Noor said.

Vale pushed the plate toward her.

“You don’t want any?”

“I ordered sufficient food.”

“That is the least attractive sentence I’ve heard all week.”

Vale looked genuinely concerned.

“I wasn’t trying to make it attractive.”

“I know.”

The conversation collapsed after that.

Not dramatically.

It just stopped.

Noor drank water.

Vale looked toward the kitchen.

The neighboring table discussed Pemi’s resignation.

A child somewhere behind Noor dropped something metallic and began crying because an adult had apparently objected to this.

Noor looked at Vale.

Vale looked at her.

“So,” she said.

“Yes.”

Nothing.

Pair//Local deliberately provided no conversational assistance during meetings.

No suggested topics.

No real-time interest analysis.

No private prompt telling Noor that Vale responded 18 percent better to questions about childhood than employment.

She had thought this was one of the service’s best ideas.

She currently thought it was irresponsible.

“What do you translate?” Vale asked eventually.

“Depends. Contracts. Media. Technical material. Sometimes live.”

“What languages?”

She told him.

He nodded.

“Automatic translation handles most technical documents now.”

Noor stared at him.

Vale continued, unfortunately.

“The remaining work must be quite specialized.”

“Yes.”

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“That’s promising. Explain my profession to me.”

Vale stopped.

“No.”

“Good.”

“I said that badly.”

“Yes.”

“Very badly.”

“Yes.”

Vale looked down at his bowl.

Noor took another dumpling that belonged to nobody.

She was annoyed enough that the date became easier.

At least now she knew what she was feeling.

Twenty minutes later they were arguing about music.

Noor liked live performance.

Vale did not.

Not because his sensors were overwhelmed. Not because of some fascinating synthetic technical issue.

He simply disliked it.

“People make too much noise in rooms designed to make noise louder,” he said.

“That is approximately the point.”

“I know.”

“You’ve never heard something live that changed your mind?”

“Yes.”

She waited.

“And?”

“It confirmed my opinion.”

Noor laughed before she could stop herself.

Vale smiled.

It was smaller than she had expected.

“See?” she said. “That was funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“That makes it better.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“I know.”

A little later Vale asked whether she traveled much.

“Whenever I can.”

“I don’t enjoy travel.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it meant something.”

Noor sighed.

“It means you inspect lifts, dislike concerts, don’t travel and described eating as an efficiency problem.”

“I did not describe eating as an efficiency problem.”

“You nearly did.”

“You asked me about digestion.”

“I was trying to flirt.”

Vale stared at her.

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

“I thought you were asking about digestion.”

“I gathered that.”

Another silence.

This one was worse.

Noor looked toward the door.

Vale noticed.

“You can leave.”

“That sounds hostile.”

“I didn’t intend it that way.”

“You should stop explaining what you intended.”

“All right.”

“Now you sound annoyed.”

“I am a little annoyed.”

That surprised her.

“With me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You ask questions and then make fun of the answers.”

Noor leaned back.

Vale looked uncomfortable but continued.

“I can’t tell when you want information and when you want me to provide material for a joke.”

“That’s fair.”

“And you keep assuming I’m being formal because I’m synthetic.”

Noor felt heat rise into her face.

“I don’t.”

“You did with the food.”

“That wasn’t—”

“It was.”

She started to argue.

Then didn’t.

Pemi at the next table announced that he had decided not to resign after all.

His companion groaned loudly.

Noor looked over.

“So much for Monday,” she said.

Vale frowned.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

They paid separately.

Outside, Meridian Quarters was still warm from the day. Restaurant staff were stacking chairs. Somewhere above them, somebody had music playing through an open window.

Vale glanced upward.

“I dislike that song.”

“I like it.”

“I assumed you would.”

“See, now you’re doing it.”

“Yes.”

They walked because the nearest transit entrance was in the same direction.

Neither had suggested it.

At the corner, Vale stopped.

“My route is left.”

“Mine’s straight.”

“All right.”

“Okay.”

They stood there.

Noor expected something.

She was irritated with herself for expecting something.

Vale said, “I don’t think that went very well.”

“No.”

“I was going to say perhaps we should try again.”

Noor laughed.

He frowned.

“Why?”

“Because that is an insane conclusion.”

“I didn’t say I had reached a conclusion.”

Pair//Local would ask both of them later.

Noor put her hands in her jacket pockets.

“You hate things I like.”

“Some.”

“You insulted my profession.”

“Accidentally.”

“You’re very difficult to flirt with.”

“I only learned you were flirting after you told me.”

“That is not a defense.”

“No.”

He looked down the street.

“You also irritate me.”

“Good.”

“I don’t think that was a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Then why good?”

“Because for a while I thought you were just sitting there suffering politely.”

“I was doing that too.”

For the first time all evening, Noor did not have an answer.

Vale nodded once.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

He turned left.

She went straight.

Pair//Local asked the question twenty-seven minutes later.

MEET AGAIN?

Noor left it unanswered.

She brushed her teeth.

Changed clothes.

Read six pages of a book without remembering any of them.

At 00:14 she opened Pair//Local again.

She pressed YES.

The screen displayed nothing except:

RESPONSE RECORDED.

No encouragement.

No prediction.

No assessment of whether she had made a mistake.

At 08:32 the next morning, a notification appeared.

MUTUAL RESPONSE. CONTACT AVAILABLE.

Vale’s first message arrived fourteen minutes later.

I said the thing about translation badly.

Noor looked at it while drinking coffee.

She wrote:

Yes.

Three minutes passed.

I also still dislike live music.

She smiled despite herself.

That may be worse.

Another pause.

Coffee sometime?

Noor considered several replies.

She finally wrote:

Maybe Friday.

Vale answered:

I can do Friday.

Noor did not correct him.

Not yet.