Page 3 of The Thorne at My Side
"Well that's encouraging, I suppose," I say around a yawn as I hold the phone between my shoulder and my ear while I slip my running shoes on. Sam likes to call me first thing in the morning with whatever article kept her up the night before. We stumbled into this pattern when she learned that I went to bed early and woke up to run. She, on the other hand, burns the candle at bothends. "But then further down it says that 56% of students surveyed said they've used AI tools for coursework."
"Oh, that's just sad." I say as I stand and go to my white board. We’re working on a speech for an event at a technical college in Michigan next week. My boss, Senator Melissa Quinn, is running for president from the lovely state of Kentucky, and if you’re wondering if that’s easy or not, let me be the first to tell you; it’s not.
"This technology is the end of the world as we know it. People aren't going to think for themselves anymore. Our young people, who will run this country someday, will not be able to tell a machine generated news story from a human written one. It's almost like we need to include typos to prove we're real!"
“I love that idea, gosh it would save us so much time in editing!” I joke as I write “AI Issue” on a post-it and stick it on the board.
“So, tell me why Mike won’t make the cut.” Sam transitions as I sit down and tie my running shoes. This is the other part of the routine we’ve fallen into, a few minutes of non-work small talk. Relationships, recipes, funny things we saw people do on the metro.
I give Sam the rundown. How I met Mike at a workshop for political writers a few weeks ago. How we hit it off and after a few rounds of drinks we set up the date last night. I tell her that the conversation was really good, because it was. He believes in the same things I do. He might even be more passionate about the good old days, a true luddite.
I didn't believe him when he told me he only uses four apps so I looked. He has his email app, with the elusive inbox zero, a podcast app, and the news app. Then in one folder he's got everything else that comes preloaded on your phone and aweather app. I was impressed.
But in that placating a toddler way.
I took a minute when Mike went to the bathroom to envision him as my partner. He’d be fine enough in pictures, but I could easily see myself getting annoyed with him at the end of the day. He has a righteous tone to him like he wants me to think he’s smart.
Sam points out that he never gave me a chance to show off how smart I am either. She’s a good hype woman to have in your corner. We end the call and I finish getting ready for my run.
When I was hired as head speech writer for the campaign, I almost passed out. I'd been pitching her team for over a year because writing speeches for a national campaign was the last item on this phase of my career plan. So to be able to do it, and for a woman, is a dream come true.
My pitch was simple; focus on the issues, stick to your guns, rise above the criticism, and make your policies accessible.
Since I've been on the team her numbers have consistently grown with more and more independents coming on board. That will be the key to winning this election, getting people who identify with policies from both major parties to vote Quinn.
I’m excited about my job. It has been the opportunity of a lifetime, and one I’ve been working my lifetime for.
Two years in the prosecutor's office after law school, then three years as an assistant district attorney, two years clerking for the New York Supreme Court and then one year on staff as a press secretary for a House of Representatives member. Each step bringing me closer to this. And from here I’ll take the steps to become a candidate myself.
Maggie Collins, the right leader for you.
I just need to nail down Mr. Collinsbecause watching Senator Quinn do it as a single woman confirmed I don’t want to do this alone.
Before I leave, I open up my bedside table drawer and pick up the little e-ink, text only, phone from SMS Connect.
SMS Connect is the latest craze for single Washingtonians. When you enroll you pay a fee, fill out a lengthy personality test, and then their service sends you a basic phone with one contact in it. You can't send pictures, you can't send links, and they suggest you don't meet until you've been texting for at least twelve weeks. Or you don't have to meet at all and you can send the device back. They even take care of telling your correspondent that you’ve terminated your service agreement.
The ads started appearing everywhere around the holidays. Their message was simple; now is the time to start a relationship because then you could go home and tell your parents you were seeing someone. I braved my way through Christmas, letting my mom focus on my sister’s engagement, and didn’t sign up until July when I completed my semi-annual progress review. With my 15 year plan in hand I noted that everything in the career section was moving along well. Everything in my health and wellness section was on track. But the relationship column was woefully behind schedule.
By 32, I was supposed to be dating someone seriously, with an engagement planned for my 33rd year and a wedding before my 35th.
I’m 36 and have had less than seven, but more than five, second dates in the last three years. Even fewer third dates.
But I didn’t need to review the numbers to know my dating life was pitiful. It’s not for a lack of trying! I date, I meet guys, I seek them out. I have hope, I have optimism, I have regular waxing appointments.
My mom thinks I’m too picky, not that I’ve asked for her input. It’s not even trust issues or problems with intimacy. I want to be in a relationship. I’m just looking for something specific.
Enter; SMS Connect.
With my second glass of wine in hand after my self-reflection, I snuggled up in the corner of my big chair and watched a couple walk hand-in-hand down my street. I felt jealous of their smiling faces, their comfortable laughter, and the affection in their eyes.
I slammed back the rest of my wine, hissed as it burned its path to my stomach, and visitedmeetyourmmc.com. I might have signed up in a fit of passion but when I got home from my run a week later and the little device was waiting at my door for me, it felt like Christmas morning.
I powered it up and sat on the edge of my bed wondering who I was matched with. The e-ink screen popped to life and I heard a quiet ping telling me a message was already there. I held my breath and read the first note. Laughing when he admitted to looking up questions to ask on a first date before writing to me.
And now, like there has been every morning since this little phone arrived, there's a message waiting for me from DCFox.
DCFOX:My cat Brinkley keeps getting calls from UFC to join the circuit. He's got a fierce left hook that he bops me with at least twice a day. But every time they call, he simply turns his tail on them and says he'd rather stay here and lounge in the windowsill watching the birds in the tree behind my apartment. I can’t say I blame him, it’s a pretty good life.
