PART I

It is on Ganymede, the vast subterranean sprawl on Jupiter’s largest moon, that Donghae first picks up the Virtual Companion box. He’s in a dingy underground market, squeezing between the cluttered shelves of one of those cheap little stalls that seem to sell everything. The New Year celebrations are over (Earth-time, anyway) and he’s bored, broke and about to set off on a three month solo journey to Enceladus. The beat-up, dented, rusty hulk of a freighter he calls home is being loaded at the nearby space port and he’s got a little time to kill before he sets off. Half the market stalls still have Christmas decorations up even though it’s well into February (Donghae had spent his own Christmas alone, eating rehydrated turkey and watching lame holiday movies) while other shops are absolutely smothered in displays of gaudy hearts, plush bears and red ribbons for Valentine’s day.

Donghae sighs.

The tacky decorations and endless love hearts all seem directly aimed at reminding him how totally, achingly single he is. He wonders if he has enough credit for a bottle of cheap champagne or maybe a few chocolates as a gift for himself but he decides that’s even sadder than getting nothing at all. He looks wistfully at a group of young men and women as they laugh and flirt and try on silly heart-shaped party hats. In a few days he himself will be probably a million miles from the nearest party. There will be no Valentine’s cards or shyly proffered gift for him.

He heads deeper into the maze of stalls, browsing aimlessly, trying to distract himself from the familiar ache of homesickness. But even so, he’s not sure what makes him pick up that particular dog-eared cardboard box. Maybe it’s the tacky photo of a woman in red lingerie on the front, maybe it’s because the box is in the discount bin, or maybe it’s because he’s been so lonely lately that even chatting to an AI seems like it would be better than nothing. He turns the box over, skimming the text.

‘Random Companion!!’ the box reads. ‘Spend Your Evenings With A y Available Holo-Date. Conversations, Virtual Dates And More!!’

Donghae blushes when he reads the box contains the necessary accessories for the ‘and more’. He knows a lot of long-haul pilots like himself resort to artificial companionship or the sort that is paid for by the hour, but Donghae has old fashioned concepts of romance and he is shy. He’s never so much as glanced at a Virtual Companion before. He looks over his shoulder, suddenly self-conscious, then continues to read a little more surreptitiously.

‘Have Fun Alone Or With Friends!! R!!’ the box continues and Donghae wonders what kind of friends would want to sit and together with a pixelated hologram. ‘Hundreds Of Unique Phrases And Responses!!’

‘Is there anything I can help you with?’

The shop assistant, a middle-aged lady, is suddenly right there and Donghae almost drops the box in his embarrassment. He shakes his head, quickly grabbing an armful of whatever is nearest on the shelf (to try look like he wasn’t solely shopping for a ‘y Available Virtual Date’) and heads for the counter. A group of older men, crew from other freighters, come up behind him talking amongst themselves about hackers and pirating, and Donghae just prays they won’t see the (y! Available!) Virtual Companion box in his arms. He hunches over guiltily and shoves it at the woman behind the counter, feeling like everyone in the entire market sees it as she places it in a plastic bag. The AI and the random junk he’d grabbed take all the money he has left and he scurries back to his ship not long afterwards, face still hot with embarrassment, pulse racing at the uncharacteristic purchase.

Then he gets the signal that he’s cleared for take-off and he dumps the box and other bits and pieces in a storage locker and, for the time being, forgets about it completely.

It’s two days later when he’s trying to find a replacement fuse for a faulty switchboard that he finds the Virtual Companion box again instead. He’s tired of trying to patch up the old ship (each trip is a never-ending cycle of repairs, which is the only reason there’s a need for someone on board at all) so he sits down right there on the metal floor of the locker room and opens the package, safe in the knowledge that he’s completely alone.

Inside, it’s like any holo-game; there’s a colourful leaflet of instructions that he immediately tosses aside, some software to install, the heavy palm-sized base that is the projector, a cheap plastic remote which will probably break instantly and then- he feels his face grow pink- the ‘interactive’ parts of the kit. He leaves them in the box, instead turning the projector base upside down to find the ‘on’ switch.

For an incredibly disappointing moment he doesn’t think it’s going to work. Then, there’s a chiming sound and the plain metal floor is suddenly awash with a myriad of pixels. Donghae turns it right way up and beams at the floating word ‘welcome’. There’s a very long loading screen, some sort of connectivity request which he ignores, and then finally, with an overly dramatic colourful swirl of data, his ‘Random y Available Holo-Date’ blinks into being.

Donghae’s mouth drops open.

The figure before him stretches languidly in simulated wakefulness. Dark almond-shaped eyes emphasized with thick smoky eyeliner meet his. A hand brushes back silvery white hair and sensual plump lips curve up in a smile. Donghae is still on the floor and the hologram is also sitting, albeit on what appears to be a bed, slender limbs elegantly arranged and encased in tight, revealing clothing.

‘Hey babe,’ it says to him, winking seductively, and Donghae just sits there agape because-

The Random-y-Available-Holo-Date is most definitely male.

Donghae reaches for the discarded instructions, scanning over them in confusion. Then he picks up the box and stares at the woman in red lingerie on the packaging and then at the semi-transparent figure in front of him.

‘What’s your name, cutie?’ the AI asks him. His voice is smooth yet musical, not the usual pre-recorded monotone, and he’s realistic enough that Donghae feels quite flustered.

‘You,’ he say. ‘Um, you’re not what’s on the box.’

He turns the box around and shows it to the hologram and at least the ‘interactive’ part of the advertising is correct because the AI raises one eyebrow.

‘You want me to wear women’s underwear?’

‘Yes,’ Donghae says. ‘I mean no, aren’t you supposed to be a girl?’

‘Random companion,’ the AI says. ‘y and available and random.’

‘Yes, but-’ Donghae tries again. For whatever reason he’d just assumed the hologram would be female. It’s not like he’s got anything against guys – he’d be lying if he said he’d never been curious – but it’s not something he’s ever acted on, and it isn’t something he’s ready for, and-

‘You want to party?’ the AI asks, and Donghae is almost fooled into thinking it is getting impatient – except of course it isn’t actually a real person. An extremely clichéd groove starts playing and the hologram runs his hands suggestively down his torso, fingers playing with his belt buckle, eyes fixed on Donghae’s face.

‘My name’s Eunhyuk,’ he says, and his voice is pitched in such a way that Donghae gets shivers. ‘For an optimum experience, please load the provided software into your main system. Then let’s move this to your bedroom.’

He bites his full bottom lip, pops open the first button of his pants, and then Donghae is grabbing for the projector and stabbing at the off switch with shaky hands. He’s not ready to see the extremely attractive (if semi-transparent) man strip; it all feels far too sleazy, far too fast, and his body is reacting to the teasing far more than he would have liked.

Donghae puts the Virtual Companion y Available Date back in its box, puts the box back in the locker, then goes back to the repairs he’d abandoned earlier.

But as hard as he tries, he can’t stop thinking about the stupid hologram; his slim body, confident hands, and his dark, knowing eyes.

For several days Donghae goes about his normal business, resisting the urge to take another peek at the AI. The ship rumbles its way across the vastness of space and Donghae eats rehydrated food, pens another letter he’ll probably not get a chance to send to his mother, and tries to ignore the date which flashes up on the various screens around the ship.

February 14th.

It’s evening when he makes the fatal error of settling down to watch a romantic movie. It’s a typical, clichéd, tear-jerking love story, and by the end of it Donghae is so sad and lonely that before he knows it he’s back in the storage room, pulling out the now-familiar box.

Even talking to a computer programme will be better than spending the rest of the evening alone.

This time he takes the Virtual Companion with him to the bridge and sets the base of the projector down carefully in the middle of the room before turning it on. Again there’s a long delay while it connects (they are in deep space after all) and Donghae has the sudden realization that by turning the device off so abruptly last time he might have reset it. What if it’s a different companion this time? What if it’s not Eunhyuk? The woman in the red lingerie doesn’t seem nearly as appealing anymore. What if-

‘Hey, babe.’

Donghae recognizes the voice even before the swirling pixels solidify, and he finds himself beaming foolishly.

‘Hi,’ he says.

The hologram smiles back at him. The setting is the same as before – Donghae can see the vague, undefined shape of a bed in the background – but Eunhyuk himself is dressed differently. Last time he’d been in skin tight leather pants and a transparent shirt but this time he’s in jeans and a superhero t-shirt. He still looks damn good for a computer programme, but the normality of it sets Donghae at ease.

‘I thought I’d seen the last of you,’ the hologram says.

‘Sorry,’ Donghae says, a bit shamefaced. ‘It was just kind of unexpected last time, that’s all.’

The AI’s lips twitch and if he had been a real person, Donghae would have thought he was trying to hide his amusement.

‘What did you think you were buying? You did read the box, right?’

‘Yes,’ Donghae says. ‘But I’ve never- I didn’t know what to do, and-’

‘And you decided to try again?’

‘Well,’ Donghae looks down, scuffing one shoe against the worn flooring. ‘It’s Valentine’s day and I was watching some movies, and I thought it would be nice if someone else was here with me, and-’

‘You’re ridiculously adorable,’ Eunhyuk says. ‘Are you asking me to be your Valentine?’

He doesn’t wait for Donghae to answer.

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