A Different Reality

"Marry me," Rhodalys pleaded in melodious tones, sinking to his knees. "Marry me and be mine forever."

Alison's head was swimming. She had never imagined that a centaur could be so ruggedly handsome, so tender, so downright sexy. Shafts of sunshine speared through the interlaced branches overhead and played over his golden fur like a divine blessing. His luxuriant hair, plaited with ivy and wildflowers, cascaded over his shoulders and caressed his naked chest. He was a nature deity awaiting her worship.

She took a step backwards and anchored herself resolutely to a tree. Her body quivered, aching to melt into a puddle of tenderness.

"Alas," she said. An archaic word, but the only one she knew that fit the occasion.

"Alas?" Rhodalys lurched to his feet. "Alas?" He stamped his hoof.

"We could only be together a few hours a week," she explained briskly, backing away another step. "Even with my employee discount, that's all I can afford. I had to take out a loan to pay last month's bill."

The dismay on his face was too much for her to bear. Sobbing, she launched herself into his arms. Many minutes passed before she had recovered sufficiently to broach the subject again.

"We must be realistic, my love," she lectured him. "What we have is wonderful, beyond anything I imagined possible. But you are a centaur, and I am human. We live in different realities."

Tenderly, he brushed the tears from her cheeks. "It is said among my people that true love can rupture the transdimensional barrier."

"Rupture the transdimensional barrier?" she squeaked. "Do you realize the kind of chaos that would create?"

"Maybe others would find love, as you and I did. . . ."

"And persecution! What would my mother would say if I brought a mythical being home for dinner?"

"The same as mine, I suppose. But they would become accustomed to it. Especially when the grandchildren come."

"Grandchildren? You expect me to have your baby?" The thought of something furry and four-legged inside her was unsettling, to say the least.

He smiled dreamily. "The best of both, uniting our realities. . . ."

"Outcasts -- the butt of hatred and jokes!"

"Our realities complement each other. You could improve our lives with your technology . . .we could give your people back the wondrous reality you have dismissed as dreams and fantasy."

"We worked long and hard to stabilize our society, thank you very much. The last thing we need is a bunch of hyper-romantic quadrupeds wandering about upsetting everything!"

Rhodalys' soulful eyes filled with tears. "You are right. We do live in two different realities. But there is more separating us than the transdimensional barrier. Much more." Abruptly, he released her, pivoted on his hindquarters, and stomped back through the hyperportal with a swish of his tail.

For the space of a hundred frantic heartbeats, Alison pondered whether it might really be possible to follow him through the iridescent vortex. Then she remembered that she had already missed two appointments on today's agenda, and groped for the control on the wall of the encounter chamber.

Abruptly, the forest glade was replaced by a blandly empty space with soft pink walls and a single door labelled "exit". She pushed through it into the dressing room, where her business suit awaited her on its padded hanger with her shoes precisely aligned below it.

She swore as her impatient fingers tore her flowing gown. She glanced into the mirror on her way out. She had forgotten her brush and comb again!

Her heels clicked down the hall to her office at crisis speed. If anyone saw her like this, it would do nothing for her professional image.

She rummaged for the emergency cosmetic kit in her desk drawer and started to repair her make-up as she waited for her administrative assistant to respond to her urgent text messages. She checked to make sure she had turned off the video feed on her phone and activated speakerphone. Three and a half minutes later, she was deep in conversation.

"Don, did you reschedule those appointments?" she demanded, feverishly layering powder and blush over Rhodalys' kisses. "Yes, of course it was an emergency! Send a crew to portal thirty-eight and have them pull it apart completely and service it. There seems to be a reality leak. . . . I know you think that new equipment is infallible, but I want it checked out before somebody has an accident. . . . No, no, don't bother coming to my office. We'll talk about that merger thing first thing tomorrow morning. . . . Eight o'clock? Damn!. . . yes, I suppose so, if that's the best you can manage."

She disconnected and hastily brushed her hair. She wondered if she should check with the publicity department about the press release, then decided that could wait. She was already a half hour late for her dinner date.

The restaurant was crowded, as usual. Thank goodness Denis was so conscientious about reservations.

"This way, Mademoiselle Lambert," the maître d' purred. Gentle baroque music soothed her unravelling nerves as he led her across the general dining room, through an ornate archway, into the intimate back room, lit exclusively by candlelight, where each table was tucked into a private alcove. It required a substantial bribe to secure one of these alcoves.

Denis looked up from his shrimp cocktail with a smile. He had already ordered a pink margarita for her. She sat down, kicked off her shoes under the table, and sipped it gratefully.

"Is the sole amandine all right?" he asked. "It takes so long for the food to arrive, I thought I had better go ahead and order."

"You're an angel. I'll just have some--" a waiter appeared at her elbow and placed a bowl in front of her "--lemon soup. How do you do it, darling? You anticipate everything!"

He smiled faintly. "A 97.6 per cent compatibility rating has to count for something."

"97.6 per cent? That might have been the initial rating, but I swear it's gone up. You know me better than I know myself."

How could he have known how much she needed something like this, something special? Too self-indulgent, perhaps, but she deserved it. She had a lot to celebrate.

After years of struggling, she had broken through the glass ceiling and become CEO of Fantasies Unlimited, the largest alternative reality provider in the world. In less than a month, she would be married to Denis -- handsome, personable, socio-economically compatible Denis, who was a genius at adjusting to her needs. There were no limits to the heights she could soar.

She willed the persistent after-image of Rhodalys to subside. This was no time to allow herself to be sucked through the transdimensional barrier.

"Something on your mind?" Denis asked. "Beside the merger, I mean."

Alison looked up, startled. "It is a huge undertaking. We'll have to re-do the entire management structure, the collective agreements, the-- "

"None of which would keep you from enjoying your soup," Denis broke in. "What is bothering you?"

She put her spoon down. "It's Rhodalys. He proposed."

Denis looked at her with large, understanding eyes. "Wouldn't take no for an answer, I suppose?"

Denis knew what she was going through. He was still recovering from an episode with a water nymph.

"He said we could break through the transdimensional barrier--some sort of legend about true love. Preposterous, isn't it?"

She waited for Denis to agree with her, as he always did. Instead, he looked thoughtful.

"I'm not sure any more," he said. "I think people need romance."

"Of course they do. That's why alternative reality is so profitable."

"In this reality, I mean. In courtship. And marriage."

"Marriage is a socioeconomic partnership for the betterment of society," she said sharply. "I don't see what romance has to do with it."

"But it wasn't always like that. In ancient times, romance was the glue that held marriages together."

"Or tore them apart."

His eyes glowed as he pursued his train of thought. "Haven't you ever wanted to try it? Walking in the moonlight? Dancing cheek-to-cheek? Kissing for hours? Sharing dreams. . . ."

"Of course. In alternative reality. However, if the demented emotions of romance are allowed to infiltrate society, they will undermine its stability."

"To hell with stability! I want to do all those things in real life, with a real partner I can be with every day and grow old with!"

She bit her lip, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. This impassioned creature was not the Denis she knew.

"What do you say, darling?" he asked. "Will you try it with me?"

Her voice stuck in her throat. Even if she had been able to answer, she would not have known what to say. Rhodalys--and now this. It was a nightmare.

Denis' voice modulated to a hypnotic tenderness. "We could go away--the two of us. Alone. Get to know each other. . . ."
Her head was swimming again, and she couldn't follow what he was saying. He was beside her now, holding her hand, breathing into her ear. She closed her eyes. It was exactly like being with Rhodalys.

She leaned into him. He was kissing her face. An enchanted cloud of longing gathered around them, drawing them into their own private universe of delights.

She opened her eyes, clutched the table with her free hand. "No!"

He stopped kissing her and drew back, eyes questioning.

"No!" she said more forcefully, pulling her hand away. "Don't you see--romance messes up everything! Conflict, deception, nameless children . . ."
Denis straightened in his seat.

". . . adultery, murder, suicide," she continued, looking up at him. "Haven't you read the ancient literature?"

"I have indeed," he said. "I believe it is possible to maintain a balance. Surely we are rational enough to manage romance while avoiding the more unpleasant side effects."

She shook her head. "If I believed that, I'd be with Rhodalys right now."

He sighed. "That's what I thought you'd say. But I had to give it a chance." He collected himself, became the logical, presentable Denis again. He re-seated himself across from her. The waiter brought their main course, and they ate in silence.

"Shall we have dessert?" she said brightly when her plate was still more than half full. The food seemed less enjoyable without Denis' tranquillizing chitchat. She rarely ordered dessert, but Denis did not consider a meal complete without it.

"Pêches flambées?" she probed. His favourite. That should take his mind off romance.

"No, thank you," he said somberly. He licked his lips and shifted in his chair. "I wish to break our engagement."

"What?" It was unthinkable. The invitations had already been mailed.

"I've met someone," he said. "Someone who agrees with me about romance."

"You can't do this to me! Not now!" Her tone hardened. "The caterer's deposit is non-refundable!"

He shook his head, smiling sardonically. "Thank you for saying that. I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing. But now I know."

"We have brilliant careers, supportive families, and a 97.6 per cent compatibility rating! Can't you trust that?"

"No. I want to trust my feelings." He stood up. "Please keep the ring. Who knows, you may find someone more compatible in time for the wedding."

He turned away without waiting for her response. There was nothing special about the way he walked. To the uninitiated eye, he might have been going to the bathroom, or to get something from the car.

She sat alone in the alcove until the waiter came to take the plates.

"Would mademoiselle care for some dessert?"

"No thank you."

He turned away.

"Stop!" she called after him. "I'll have something after all. Crème brûlée . . . What am I thinking? I'm allergic to crème brûlée! Brandied cherries. Or maybe . . . some . . . sorbet . . ."

She began to cry.

The server reappeared and quietly set some tissues and the dessert menu at Alison's elbow. When he returned to take her order, she had repaired her make-up and taken a series of selfies. The exotic candlelit décor of the alcove provided a perfect backdrop.

She ordered the most expensive dessert on the menu, and asked the server to pair it with the perfect coffee to complement it. Then she absorbed herself in composing an updated profile on the Absolutely Perfect date app on her phone.

Busy executive, unmortgaged home, enjoys travel to exotic locations, seeking attractive, socially secure escort to provide companionship. Permanent partnership optional. Must be Alternative Reality abstinent.

By the time she finished her raspberry sorbet with white truffle sauce, four hopeful candidates had responded.