The Code of Happiness by David J. Margolis Page A

this Po. Well paid. Respected. Who wouldn't?
I'm not saying it's perfect, but I can partake in life and it's
doing some good. You know, I may even be happy.”
    Uttering those words out loud is more to convince
himself. And it does to a degree. He's buying time before he makes
a definitive claim life is peachy, or at the least, working. Po had
pounced on him when the new holo set arrived. He didn't invite her
in but promised to meet up with her on his new territory. It was a
bad move. The place was hurting the conversation. He saw her
disdain at the fake chicness of the pub. If they do this again he'd
go somewhere she approves.
    “Instant gratification, that's all you want and there
is none,” she says.
    “There is. Of course there is.”
    “It don't last.”
    “It can. You continue. You do something else that's
satisfying. Just because you're not interested doesn't mean the
rest of us should turn a blind eye.”
    “Nice choice of phrase.”
    “And what's wrong with a bit of success.”
    “A bit? Why box yourself in, limit yourself?”
    “Live within your limits, and you'll find
happiness.”
    How those hollow words slipped out bewilders
Jamie.
    Po laughs at him. “You know what's in your limits?
Keeping a promise, having a look at our servers.”
    “Yeah, well, life got a little busy.”
    It's a lame excuse, he knows, but keeping the
dialogue flowing and on point seems pointless. They're going
nowhere unless you count circles. Po was fast becoming an object.
She wields a glare and pulls a snow globe from her pocket. Inside
is a blob of yellow slime.
    “ A souvenir,” she says as she
slides it across to him. He takes the hint. There's unfinished
business. But his life now is all things unpronounceable. The Source Foundation is where it had always been, in the
shadows .
    “ You've been eaten up by the
machine,” she says.
    He wouldn't expect less. She's never been on the
other side. It's always easy to criticize from the outside, and he
was there not so long ago. He watches her button up her camel coat,
his compassion in danger of becoming patronizing. Another
disappointing end. Po can't help a snide remark about the
fireplace. It's real, but somehow they've made it look fake. Funny
little creature, he thinks, the closer you get the more elusive she
becomes.
    Walls up, relationship regressing, Jamie tries a
direct approach. “What's with you and Ray?”
    Her small frame hovers over him. It doesn't deserve
an answer.
    “He helped me once. Nothing in it for him. Just
helped.” She slips her hands into her pockets, ready to leave, her
mind stuck on something she hasn't found the right way to say.
Jamie's perceptive side picks up.
    “Are we going to do this again?”
    She gives it some thought.
    “Those five who disappeared? The one's they've
linked? All of them worked for Blaze.”
    It's a touch melodramatic for Jamie.
    “Half the country works for him,” he says.
    “All at his HQ?”
    “And how do you know this, paranoid Po?”
    Her eyes are about to strike home. “Because, like
you, they all came through the doors of the foundation.”
    “Anything else?”
    “If you must. Ray's the father I never had.” She
coats her lips with what's left of her Burgundy and delivers a
coquettish glance. She's taking the piss.
    It's bull, he thinks, as he watches her leave. People
make stuff up. She and Ray just want him back. For what, who really
knows and, frankly, who cares. It's the emphasis though on the father she never had that grates. She's touched a nerve. He
races to the door, surprising her.
    “What do you know about me, Po?”
    She meets it with a shrug.
    “You've never said.”
     
    He lies on the white sofa; Po the manipulative on his
mind. True. He's told them nothing. What they had was a facsimile,
recorded history found by means foul or fair. She can't expect him
to believe her spurious claims about the five . There was
nothing in the news, not that he read much beyond headlines. Surely
there would