True Love

"I guess this is my retirement party," I laughed, understanding the extremity of my statement. "I had no idea at the age of 34 that my complete lack of motivation would allow me to enjoy life at this level," I'd finish. Each interview was a thorn in my side I needed to remove to get through the evening. My contract was simple and Van Hoy wanted the press to have full access.

When I was the Director of Analytics all I had to do was keep my team focused and manage the interviews of the Beta1000. ByMySide hadn't launched and we were a rogue band of misfits on campus. Though I knew nothing about analytics, I knew how to keep folks out of our camp, so they made me their leader. When we shaved our bodies like the Beta1000 to make them feel comfortable in the lab, they knew we were special. Van Hoy knew we were an insane group, but we were the catalyst that was going to make his dream a reality.

Van Hoy was obsessed with love and data. After his first wife passed away at 25, he wrapped himself in his work that was gaining noteriety. His fourth wife left him because his data became too famous. She also loved the pool guy. Apparently he initially agreed to put up with their extra-curricular activities until he found her straddling pool guy's face atop his desk of freshly printed divorce analytics. Data should not be forced to take part in such vulgarity.

Van Hoy came up with the idea of ByMySide while building a data analytics framework for the Dutch government to find terrorists. "Make love, not war!" was his pitch to investors. Seed money went in to research for five years, but nothing struck a nerve until Elsa entered the picture.

Elsa rewrote the testing protocol with a sensitivity toward human interaction that previous data sets were missing. Her cold demeanor was just the attitude necessary to believe that holding hands should be turned into numbers like everything else. Interview questions and DNA were foundational numbers, but lust was the signal of future compatibility. My team trusted Elsa, so we built the HoneyMoonSuite.

HMS originally stood for HourMinuteSecond because of our data collection system. A reflective, recyclable, ingestible "paint" could be applied to our test subjects, the Beta1000, to be viewed in the absence of light. The subjects could not speak, but everything else was allowed in the dark. The subjects had to remain in the room for an hour, felt a vibration from the floor every minute, and had to be touching each other somewhere every second. Elsa was adamant about the touching. That physical contact defined long term compatibility.

Some subjects simply held hands. Others took advantage of the anonymity and explored boundaries they hadn't prior to joining the Beta1000. Everyone had been tested for any infectious diseases and their diets were regulated for their first seven days in the program - their last four days being spent enjoying the HoneyMoonSuite.

Our cameras would record their every movement, temperature, moisture content, oxygen intake, and whatever else you could think of. Our analytics team was obsessed with every nuance of that room and the data they could map. They wanted absolute control over the furniture specs - height, material, weight, firmness. Even though the room was completely dark, the color of the pillows lead to a 2 day offsite. Because I was brave enough to take that $25000 expense report to the finance department, they made me their leader. Though 'brave' may not have been the right word, considering the recent divorcé running the accounting department had a crush on me.

Though our cameras couldn't reproduce visual images of the interactions, the graphed spectrums was mathematical pornography that had my analytics team constantly horny. Only our team could tell the difference between a 20 second French kiss and an 8 minute anal episode through the graphs. You'd think after the first week the team would be numb to the romantic interludes, of which only a small percentage were actually X-rated, but they were like two dozen horny teenagers, giggling at every graph that crossed their monitors.

"I don't think 2457 was expecting cum in the face so soon, but she appears to have no problem with it," Sharon eagerly read from two red parabolas floating on her screen. "And . . . now . . . she . . . is . . . licking . . . it . . . off," she finished her play by play with the spirited enthusiasm of a varsity cheerleader.

That said, the team was highly sensitive to our Beta1000. We all went through the interviews, DNA testing, and metric scans in order to know what each participant was going through. We wanted to feel their experience.

After the first day tension in the HoneyMoonSuite, Elise tossed out the idea of our entire team going hairless to make the Beta1000 feel less like gerbils in a cage. The next morning all 24 of the engineers, nurses, and analyst showed up to work completely shaven. Apparently I didn't get the memo, so they forced me into the prep room, stripped sıhhiye escort me naked and shaved me head to toe. We were that kind of close.

Elsa had predicted we would be that close and primitive, though Van Hoy ignored her warnings. "We need real people taking real data so they can see the emotion. Love is not 1's and 0's. Love is ecstasy and jealousy."

But I'm not sure how much love Van Hoy would have appreciated our analytics team had he witnessed our full collaborative effort. While the coupling between the Beta1000 was rare, the diagnostics of our system was daily. In the beginning the sex simulations were all fabricated with gestures and sugar water. As the team grew closer and their knowledge of Elsa's equipment increased, the simulation became less simulated.

We weren't certain what couple made the first jump from simulation to reality, but we know who we give credit to. Sarah and Elliot were calibrating muscular contraction numbers when Elliot couldn't regulate the frequency. The measurements weren't mathematical. They were random. They were human. When Sarah exited the HoneyMoonSuite Elliot casually asked Sarah to place the unused monitor back on the shelf, which she politely obliged. Their eyes both opened wide as she realized his deception and he realized hers. If she hadn't been using the monitor, she must have created those muscle contractions and moisture increases another way.

Without missing a beat Elliot entered two real Beta numbers into the system, stripped naked, and handed Sarah the spray. She sprayed him head to toe and repeated his actions. The system would log their activities as Beta1000 participants, but they could place the data with anomaly readings that Elsa would ignore - essentially discarding the results.

They would have gotten away with their diagnostics if they wanted to. Instead, they shared their data the next morning during our breakfast recap. Though quite common for a Beta Coupling - kissing, cunnilingus, rear entry, orgasm, orgasm, rest, reverse cowgirl, orgasm, backrub, kiss, rest - we all knew the data was bogus. Beta1355