They didn't seem to mind when I started dating Frank. We'd go for walks at night and swimming during the day in summer, bright sun shining hot spots into my eyes and glinting off his skin. The water would splash across us like sun liquid itself, warming and cooling us and making the world a happier place.

There were no objections when he asked me to "go steady" as they called it after high school. My mother was so excited, she practically ran to his house to congratulate his parents. Good thing I told her it was the opposite side of town and that I'd used up most of the tank of gas that day. This mess would have begun much sooner.

Finally it dawned on them that they hadn't met this handsome fellow courting their daughter and they began to get curious. It'd been almost two years at that point and something was amiss. "Why has he never been over for dinner, what's his home life like, what's he doing these days," my mother always used to pester. "A man introduces himself," my father would say, "he should have been here by now." He'd read the paper and smoke a pipe in his armchair, a dim lamplight above him worsening his squinting eyes. That was the real reason he'd needed new glasses every few years. He always said it was my mother's cooking. Stubborn and old; traditional, some people say; relics.

One day I got home after work and before calling Frank and starting in on homework my mother informed me that "We're having dinner tonight, dear, and we'll be having guests!"

"Oh?" I wondered who would come and visit us. Other than the liquor-binging aunt, there wasn't anyone around for miles, and it wasn't like long-distance travel was cheap these days, not for people like us.

"Yes, dear. I phoned Frank and his family and they're all just delighted to come for a visit. I even spoke to his mother and she said they've been worried you were some flapper or some such nonsense! Imagine! They're just delighted for the invitation!"

I stood.

"They'll be here at six, darling. Now go upstairs and wash up, I'll need all your help in the kitchen if I'm to cook for ten!" She brushed off into the kitchen and plopped on an apron, humming one of her usual kitchen hums. They've always been so nostalgic to me, those tunes, but then it seemed like the drums of an executioner, the harbinger of my romantic doom.

I bolted upstairs into my room, shut the door and outright panicked.

"WhaaatamI going todoo!!? Hoowcouldshedoothis!!? Frank can't come here!! He's not-- they won't understand! And his whole family, Oh my god!!!"

"You might watch your language, young missy. He's listening."

I whirled: father was sitting in the corner in my makeup chair. Damn thing, sat in front of a table with a cabinet and mirrors and everything. I painted and stickered and makeuped over them a long time ago. Suddenly I wished I hadn't, so I could make sure I didn't look completely mortified.

"Dad! What'reyoudoing!?"

"I've been wondering about this young lad, my dear--"

And just then, I heard that awful sound… a grumbling monster came up the street, something terrible rolling its way along our quiet road and into our peaceful driveway. I looked out the window and saw it: the van. That giant orange van with bright green and blue lettering. Something out of a comic book, Frank always said, but I wasn't sure which one. It was a family joke, I suppose. The doors opened one at a time, and one at a time their long arms reached out, making way for their long and scaly bodies. They climbed out of the van, their lizardlike figures wriggling and glistening in the setting sun, putting fire on their dark green and brown leathery hides. They looked groomed and neat, they weren't used to wearing clothing, I knew; they pretty much kept to themselves most of the time, since they weren't supposed to exist and disguise was out of the question. They kept their tails behind them, polite and out of the way. As un-alarming as possible. Frank had taught them well, I smiled.

And then they approached the front door, with Frank in the lead. I remember how his jaw grinned, how he sauntered confidently up to our house while his tail twitched nervously behind him. No telling how this would turn out.

"Huh, they're early," my father mused as he ambled downstairs.

"Well, I'd better love him," I remember muttering to myself as I followed.

And then my mother screamed. And it was all over.

"Reports came back standard. Systems running. Operation normal. How are you?"

Satisfied, Jacob flops down on the wooden crate he pilfered for use as his chair. Captain's Chair he likes to call it.
"Food's not the best, but what can ya do when you're runnin'?"

"I suppose not too much, sir."

"Yea… not too much."
He breathes a moment.
He tosses the can across the room. There's a small pile forming.
"At least we've still got this hovel. Let's see how those network-busters are doing."
The brain reloads its feeds from moments ago and reports the changes by user through speakers implanted in Jacob's ears.

"Andrew Patterson
Single
Catholic
Loves drinking, driving, and gunning down homos

Kelly Donaldson
Engaged
Lutheran
Dreams of a beach house in Mexico but for now, is learning to live life to its fullest! <3<3xoxo

Jason MacAvoy
Single
None
Athletics, technology, trends in politics, psychology and economics."

"Stop. Open profile."
A slight buzz and a light flashes and the brain peers as interestedly at the screen as Jacob, analyzing, estimating, judging. Together they flip through his info, eyes rolling across the screen, Jacob's lips parting slightly every so often to reinforce a word, a trait of Jason's fitness for his purpose in their game.
"That one. Change professional status to Employed, company and field to Undisclosed and job title to Consultant."
The brain shifts a little in its liquid, the eyes scan the three monitors and it sucks down more protein juice as it swaps the user info.

"Done."

"Thanks. Perfect." Jacob laces his fingers, arches his back and stretches his arms out to crack all the joints in between. He slaps on a pair of sunglasses and clicks a button on them. They light up around the rims, flash their initializing signal at the screens who respond with one of their own, filling the room with blinding light, fading to the view Jacob sees through his glasses. He whirls on a black leather jacket, spiked of course, and turns finally to the brain, grabbing a tub of something, shaking it to find that it's empty.
"While I'm out, I'll get ya a refill." The brain shudders, eyes lighting up, and turns intently to watch the screens as Jacob unlocks the three successive doors it takes to leave the place, locking them all again behind him.

"Secure enough. For now."

"Yea. Let's just hope it lasts long enough for some coherent phase of this little project."
He walks through a pitch-black room out a final door and into a sun-burned no-name street of the city.
Then, grinning, "Now, let's go find us a dummy."