#stevenvalentine

[thephilosophyofgrowth]

The Perfect Match: Chapter 3 - Steven Valentine (2016)

Chapter 3: Nourished

I woke up the next morning feeling like death incarnate. I spent most of the early hours vomiting and questioning why the hell anyone enjoys getting drunk if this is what the payoff is. I went to the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes had deep black circles under them and my makeup was smeared and distorted like some sort of scary clown. My usually polished, straight hair was a mess of knots and tight curls. I looked like a damn monster, but nevertheless, I enjoyed myself at the show.

Last night was the first time that I experienced real happiness. Before that, I'm pretty sure that everything I've been feeling had just been fabricated. Like Dr. Kreierung said to me upon my awakening, I was not a real person. And so, I was faced with my first existential crisis; if I'm not real, could I really experience happiness? Love?

As I walked back into the bedroom, I found Eric lying in the same position he had fallen asleep in. He was face down wearing nothing but his boxers and his snoring could only be compared to a pig. I watched as his back moved gently up and down with his deep breaths. I could see every muscle in his back tightening and then loosening up. Watching him gave me a feeling of comfort. It was nice to know that he was mine. This kind and gentle man was the person I would be connected to for the rest of my existence. At the same time, however, I wanted to hit him. Why did he get to live a “normal” life while I had to be satisfied with a fabricated one?

It hadn't occurred to me until that very moment that I would be confined to this life forever. I would never be able to make my own choices or be who I wanted to be because I was only created for the singular purpose of being Eric’s property. I wanted to scream and cry, but even through all these thoughts, something in the back of my mind kept saying “this is what you want. You want to love Eric. You want to please Eric. You want to be with Eric forever.” The worst part is that I couldn't tell if I really felt this way or if it was just the result of the great Doctor’s manipulation. Suddenly, I got the urge to vomit again and I ran to the bathroom, passing out with my face in the toilet.

I woke up to Eric shaking my shoulders. I tried to look at him, but my vision was blurred and I could barely make out the shapes on his face.

“Hey, Olivia. Hey!” He shouted. “Come on, you're scaring me a little.” Eric lifted me up and carried me to the bedroom. “Okay, you wait here.” He started to get dressed in a hurry, seeming concerned. “I'm going to run to the store to get you some medicine. I think we had a bit too much to drink last night.” He chuckled and then placed a kiss on my forehead before running out of the door.

I stayed in bed for a few minutes before I absolutely had to stand up. Laying down was making my bones ache and my head spin, so I got up and roamed through the house. Eventually, I found the door to the basement. I had gone down there a few times, but never really looked around. It was full of old boxes and retro furniture. I came across a box that was labeled “MOM AND DAD” and opened it up.

I found many old family pictures. Some of Eric as a child, some of his parents, some of them together. Then I discovered a photo attached to an old, slightly torn handwritten  letter. The photo was of Eric and his parents. His mother had the same wild blonde hair that Eric did, but what surprised me most is how much Eric looked like his father. They could've been twins, except his father had a deep, chestnut brown hair color. His father was holding Eric in his arms, he couldn't have been more than three or four years old. Eric looked like he had been crying, his face was red and splotchy, but his parents looked so happy.

I turned my attention to the letter. The handwriting looked to be done hastily, as it was messy and hard to read.

To My Dearest Lyla,

I miss you. I miss Eric. I miss my family. I want ever so badly to come home and stay there forever. I think about you constantly. You are my every thought, my every breath. I can sometimes still taste your lips or your world famous T-bone steak. Two completely different things, I know. But can you blame me?

Times are hard for the three of us right now. But I swear I'm trying to make it right. Eric deserves to lead a life better than we ever had. Every day that I go out and “eliminate” the “unfortunates”, it makes me sick to my stomach. I cannot wrap my head around how the government is forcing us to commit genocide. I don't want to do this, I don't want to kill innocent people. But at the same time, I know I  have to, for the sake of our family.

Lyla, I hope you can forgive me for everything I'm forced to do. I cannot wait to get home and hold you in my arms again. No matter what, nothing will ever feel as right as the feeling of you wrapped around me. I miss your peach scented lotion and the way you always tuck that one strand of hair behind your ears. Or the way you push your glasses up with your palm. Or the way you look so frustrated when your cooking or painting or writing isn't absolutely perfect.

You are absolutely perfect to me.

I have to go now. But I want to end this letter with words that I want you and Eric to remember for as long as you live.

I love you. I love you. I love you. And I always will.

Yours Forever, Lucas.

I read the letter several times over before I noticed a wetness on my cheek. A tear? I couldn't believe the amount of love Lucas had for his family. The love he had for Lyla. The kind of love that was boundless and ever expanding like the universe. The kind of love that would transcend life and continue on forever, it's energy flowing through the air and up into the cosmos. The kind of love that I wished I could understand.

The kind of love that I wished I had with Eric. But I knew I could never and would never feel the same. Eric’s parents had real love. They found each other. He wasn't made for her and she wasn't made for him. They just fell in love. I could never have this because I wasn't real.

I was a fake. Created in some lab like some damned science experiment. What was the point?

[thephilosophyofgrowth]

The Perfect Match: Chapter 2 - Steven Valentine (2016)

Chapter 2: How We Survive

I had been living with Eric for two weeks now. He taught me many things. He taught me about culture. We watched some of his favorite movies, such as Donnie Darko and Pulp Fiction. We used the “internet” to look at pictures of famous places, like Paris and New York City. I heard some of his favorite music. I particularly enjoyed listening to band called The Smiths. Music was beautiful to me, how eloquently people were able to express their emotions through cadence and rhythm. I wished that one day, I too could express myself in such a way.

One evening, Eric looked up from his dinner and into my eyes. “We should go on a date, like couples do.”

“What is a date?”

He let out a hearty chuckle. “It's when two people who are interested in each other go out and do things together. Like, dinner and a movie, or hiking, or dancing.” He picked at his food, pushing around the vegetables that he hated. “Would you like to do something like that?”

I thought for a moment. “Can we listen to music?” I wanted so badly to hear a musician sing. “I'd like that.”

“Hmm, actually, a friend of mine is in a band and they're playing next weekend. We could go check them out if you want.”

And so, the next weekend came and we got ready for our date. I wore a black leather jacket with dark blue jeans and black boots. Eric said this outfit was “sexy” so I decided to go with it. He wore a slim-fitting button down shirt with nice jeans and brown suede shoes. We took pictures together, and I must say, we looked quite nice together.

Eric and I arrived at the bar about an hour later. He ordered a beer for me, obviously I've never had one, but I kind of liked it. It had a bitter taste to it and made me want to burp. I drank it fast, which Eric said was something called “chugging.” A few minutes later, a man walked up onto the stage.

“Hey everyone!” He exclaimed. “Thanks for coming out tonight. We have great treats in store for you guys. We have The Beautiful Mondays headlining! Who's excited?” The crowd cheered and the sound filled up the small bar, echoing and bouncing off the walls. The energy was electrifying.

“My friend Scott is the vocalist for TBM. I think you'll like them a lot.” Eric half whispered to me. “And Scott is a super cool dude, I'll introduce you before the show.” I just nodded and sipped on my second beer, taking it slow this time because I was starting to feel a little weird.

After about an hour or so and some smaller bands playing, Eric waved over to a guy with long, curly black hair. The guy looked confused for a split second and then his face lit up as he recognized Eric. He sauntered over to us and I could really only describe him as “cool”. He was wearing a forest green bomber jacket, ripped black jeans, and brown hunting boots that made him look taller than he actually was.

“Eric, my dude!” He shouted over the music as the two men shared a tight hug. “It's need too damn long. How are you?!” He then looked over at me, a quick glance from my face to my breasts, legs, and back up to meet my eyes. Something about the cold, steel  intensity of his grey eyes made me nervous.

“You know how it is man, I'm just living.” Eric replied, a bit annoyed with the man staring at me. “This is my wife, Olivia.” He said, placing extra emphasis on wife. “Olivia, this is Scott, we grew up together.” Scott extended his hand to me and I shook it.

“Pleased to meet ya, Olive.” Olive? “Is it cool if I call you Olive? Actually wait, I don't care if it's cool or not, I'm gonna call you Olive.” Scott laughed and lit up a cigarette. “Anyway, Eric, we’ll catch up later, I gotta go get set up.” He walked towards a room in the back of the bar and lifted his right hand and half waved at us.

“Don't worry about Scott, he likes to joke around.” Eric said, clasping a firm hand on my shoulder. He ordered two more beers and chatted with the bartender. A short time later, I heard the sound of instruments and Scott and the rest of the band came running out on stage.

“ARE YOU FUCKING FUCKS READY?!” Scott yelled. He certainly had no filter. The crowd went absolutely crazy at his profane introduction and in an instant, Eric and I were on our feet and heading to the front of the crowd. The music was fast paced and energetic. Scott sang with such a passion and intensity and the rest of the band followed suit.

 “I wanna feel nourished,

I wanna feel complete.

I used to taste you in my dreams.

Your lips, alcohol and Listerine.

I just wish you knew, I just wish you knew,

just what you meant to me.” 

Apparently, this was a very popular song amongst the crowd, as everyone including Eric knew the lyrics. At this point, I had a feeling of warmth in my belly. My mind was fuzzy and I wanted to laugh and cry and yell and sleep all at the same time. Eric looked at me and laughed.

“You're drunk!” He proclaimed. “ME TOO!!” And I realized I haven't seen Eric like this before. He was usually so calm and collected, but right now he was full of life and had the biggest smile I'd ever seen across his face.

“I think I like this!” I yelled back, not even thinking about what I was saying. “What is this feeling?” Eric pulled me into him roughly and kissed me hard. His hands ran up and down my spine, sending millions of tiny shockwaves across my body.

“Like, I said, you're drunk!” He replied when we finally broke away from each other. “But also, you're happy. This is what living is, this is how we survive, Olivia. This is happiness!”

Huh. I thought. Happiness. I like that. And with that, I didn't say anything else. Instead, I just let the music and positive energy course through me as I laughed and danced the night away.

[thephilosophyofgrowth]

The Perfect Match: Chapter 1 - Steven Valentine (2016)

Chapter 1: Awake

           I opened my eyes. Light? I breathed in. Oxygen? These were things that I simply knew. No one teaches you how to see, how to breathe, you just know how to do it. I looked to my left and to my right, I was in a bed. Surrounding me, there were men and women in white coats, impeccably pressed and staunch in appearance.

           A tall, grey haired man looked down at me and smiled. “Good morning, Olivia. How are you feeling?” Olivia? I thought. Is that my name? I just stared at him, at a loss for words due to my tremendous confusion. “It's normal to feel confused at first.” It was like this man could read my every thought. “My name is Dr. Kreierung. I want to show you around, get you up to speed, if you will.” He extended a wrinkly hand towards me. I placed mine in his and stood for the first time. My legs felt wobbly, as if they've never been used before.

           Dr. Kreierung guided me through his laboratory that never seemed to reach an end. Through the narrow hallways, I could see into other rooms, each with clear glass from ceiling to floor providing a transparent view of everyone and everything. In each room, there was a person. A man here and a woman there, all awakening in a state similar to mine.

           “Olivia, I am the head of development here at The Perfect Match.” He said, matter-of-factly. “Our prime responsibility here is to genetically engineer human beings from scratch. Our company sells the idea of ‘perfect love’. You, like every other person we create here, are made to accomplish one simple task; to love and be loved by the client.” Kreierung led me through another series of doors and into an open waiting area. “Olivia, I know this may be a lot for you to handle right now, but let me make my point clear and concise. You are not a real human. You are a creation of science. You do not feel anger, you do not feel fear. You simply feel love.” He looked me right in my eyes as he said this, his expression no longer sincere, but rather cold and distant. “Here is the restroom, you may go inside and sort yourself before meeting your match.”

           I entered the restroom in a daze. I could not wrap my head around the Doctor’s words. In the restroom was a mirror. It, like the clear glass of every room, extended from ceiling to floor. It was then that I saw myself for the first time. I had jet black hair that reached just past my shoulders, haphazardly cut into pointy layers. My eyes were a crystal blue, reminiscent of the ocean glimmering in the Sun. For all intents and purposes, I was beautiful. I took a step back to get a full view of my body. I had curves, but not too many.  I was skinny, but not sickly. A normal person would consider me “in shape.”

           I stepped out of the restroom and back into the waiting area, where the Doctor was standing and conversing with a much younger, taller man.

           “Ah, Olivia!” Kreierung exclaimed. “Perfect timing.” He made a motion with his hand that signaled me to join the men. “This wonderful young man is named Eric. He is to be your husband.” My eyes shifted from the old man to the young one. He had short, scruffy blonde hair that was slightly unkempt. He had green eyes that were concealed by thick frames. As mentioned, he was tall. I would guess around 6’2. He was thin, but one could tell that he was fit, perhaps he worked out often or played sports. Eric looked me up and down. He spoke with a tinge of excitement in his voice.

           “Hi, my name is Eric Stone.” He grabbed my hand a tad forcefully and shook it. “I think we’re going to have an amazing time together.” Eric paused to look me over once more. “God, you're beautiful. You look exactly how I imagined when I first reached out to Dr. Kreierung.”

At that moment, the doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a device comparable to a remote. He pushed a tiny button and I felt a surge of emotion overwhelm me. I wanted nothing but to be in Eric’s arms. To touch, to kiss, to taste, to please. I wanted him and nothing would stop me.

           Kreierung spoke up again, interrupting my lust filled thoughts. “Okay, Mr. Stone. The only thing left before you can head home with Olivia is to sign out at the front desk.” He motioned to a woman sat at a computer. He spoke in a lower voice, almost a whisper. “I anticipate no issues with Olivia, however, if she does… malfunction, give us a call and we’ll sort it all out.” With that, Kreierung turned and walked away, stopping very briefly to shoot me one last crooked smile.

           After completely the necessary paperwork, I accompanied Eric to his car. It was my first time seeing the outside world. The green leaves of the trees were painted in a muted auburn, yellow, and brown. My mind raced and one word came to mind: “Autumn.” I said out loud. Eric looked at me and chuckled. He had a nice smile.

           “Listen, I uh… I just wanted to let you know that I won't treat you like a robot or anything.” He kept his eyes on the road, a hint of seriousness in his tone. “I know you're like, programmed to love me and all that, but you're a real person in my eyes.” He moved one hand off the wheel to place it on my knee.

           “Eric,” I said, monotone. “Why have someone created for you? Couldn't you find love on your own?” He looked at me again, first with a shocked expression that quickly turned into amusement. Eric moved his fingers in small, concentric circles on my knee.

           “That's just the way society works these days. When I was a kid, there was real love. The kind of love you see in movies where the hero falls for the girl and he does everything in his power to earn her love. That was the kind of love that my parents had.” We took a left turn, then a right and continued down a long, narrow street. “But all that has changed. About 10 years ago, the government began a plot to remove disease and viruses from humans. As a result, many innocent people lost their lives. If you had cancer or if you were autistic, you were murdered. After a few years, our population began to dwindle. Then, Dr. Kreierung was assigned here from Germany to launch a program to remove disease on a microscopic level. Instead, what he created was a method of producing perfect, synthetic human beings. Ones that were incapable of doing  anything but love who they were created to love.”

           “Do you think that's wrong?” I asked.

           “Sometimes.” Eric responded. “But my opinion doesn't matter much. It's just the way things are.”

           “I see.” I said, but I didn't really see.

[thephilosophyofgrowth]

Survival by Steven Valentine

2015