Page 9 of The Cyrano Situation
I should have shut it down immediately. It was deceptive, potentially hurtful to Jules, and completely outside my comfort zone.
But the truth—the uncomfortable truth I was reluctant to admit even to myself—was that the conversation with Jules had been more intellectually stimulating than any I'd had in months. And the thought of more such exchanges was... appealing.
"If, and this is a significant 'if', I were to consider this absurd scheme," I said slowly, "there would need to be rules."
Hart's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Absolutely! Rules are good. Rules are great. I love rules."
"You've never followed a rule in your life."
"Not true. I always return my library books on time." He grinned. "But I will follow your rules for this. Promise."
I sighed, already regretting what I was about to say. "I would need to approve every message before it's sent. No exceptions."
"Done."
"If at any point I decide this has gone too far, we end it immediately. Delete the profile, no arguments."
"Of course."
"And if, another significant 'if', things progress to the point of meeting in person, we develop a transition plan that minimizes deception." I fixed him with a stern look. "I won't begin a potential relationship on a foundation of lies."
"Absolutely agreed." Hart was practically bouncing in his seat now. "This is going to be great, Cyril. Jules is going to love the real you."
"We are not at the 'love' stage, Hart. We are at the 'tentatively engaging in literary discussion via a morally questionable digital masquerade' stage."
He laughed, a full-bodied sound that seemed to fill my small office. "That should be a relationship status option on Facebook."
Despite myself, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch upward. "This is still a terrible idea."
"The best ideas usually are, at first glance." Hart stood, gathering his takeout container. "Check your email tonight. I'll forward Jules' latest message, and you can tell me how you'd respond."
As he headed for the door, a thought occurred to me. "Hart?"
He turned, eyebrows raised.
"Why are you doing this? Really?"
For a moment, his perpetually cheerful expression faltered, revealing something more complex beneath. "Because everyone deserves connection, Cyril. Even rigid, routine-loving editors with elbow patches." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Even golden retrievers in human form who talk too much and bring curry to other people's offices."
Before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me with a half-eaten sandwich, an ethical dilemma, and the lingering sense that there was more to Hart Fielding than I'd previously allowed myself to see.
Chapter Four - Spaces Between Words
Cyril
Thatnight,Isatat my kitchen table with a glass of burgundy, staring at my laptop screen. Hart had forwarded Jules' latest message, as promised.
"I've been thinking about what you said regarding the spaces between words speaking louder than the words themselves. It reminds me of something John Cage once said about music—that the notes are not as important as the silence between them. Do you find that applies to human interaction as well? That what remains unsaid often carries more weight than what is explicitly expressed?"
I took a sip of wine, considering. It was a thoughtful question, one that resonated with me in unexpected ways. After a moment's hesitation, I began to type my response:
"Absolutely. In fact, I'd argue that true understanding between people often exists in that unspoken space… the shared recognition of something that doesn't require articulation. It'swhy I've always preferred written communication to verbal; the deliberate choice of what to include and what to omit creates a richer tapestry of meaning."
I paused, then added:
"As for Cage, his '4'33"' takes that concept to its logical extreme—a composition of pure silence that forces the audience to confront the impossibility of true silence. There's always something in the spaces: ambient noise, breath, the rustle of movement. Perhaps the same is true of human connection. Even in silence, something is being communicated."
I read it over twice, then forwarded it to Hart with a brief note: "You may send this verbatim."
