I/O

I catch the stranger's eye in the dim light of the bar and we identify each other instantly. Her gaze falls to my USB bracelet as she unconsciously touches the back of her neck and blushes. We share knowledge about each other in that moment, something nobody else can see. Something nobody else can know. But tonight, neither of us will feel alone.

Later, in her hotel room, she lays opened up for me, my keyboard connected to a port in her stomach. I study the holographic code projected by her electric blue eyes on the wall. The USB adapter from my bracelet, now plugged into the base of her skull, hums with intermittent vibration. Her lips part, but the sound of her ecstasy arises simultaneously from billions of synthetic nerves into one glorious, beautiful note.

I know how to love a woman like her. Like me. And she lets me probe the intimate depths of her with every keystroke from my slender fingers. Together, we write new sources of pleasure, discover new ways to make these manufactured bodies ours.

We couple through syntax, curled around each other like braces.

For that trust, for what we share tonight, I will make her delicate circuitry sing with lighting.