LAST NIGHT WAS WILD.

I chose La Seine Bucolique for our reunion because the cafe was unremarkable. Similarly that morning, I paired a tan pull-over with jeans.

Unremarkable didn't invite assumption. I pushed out a breath stuck in my chest as I reached the Seine, paused briefly to take in the scents – human piss, boat kerosene and a hint of cigarette butt — and ran down the stairs. The cafe's terrace was stealing space at the end of the quay. He'd be there already, punctually sipping coffee. Bloody delayed trains! I hunkered for coffee too, but caffeine was a bad idea. Hot chocolate? Too comfy. Tea then; that was unremarkable enough.

Wading through the unruly set of outdoor tables and iron chairs, I looked for his messy, curly brown hair.

"Ines!"

I turned at my name, and there he was, standing by the table I'd just passed. His hair had grayed, and was cut very short now, but his sunset gondola face churned old feelings from over twenty years ago. A high brow hanging like the sun over a large, crooked smile.

"Gabriel, I almost didn't recognize you… Your hair —"

He passed a hand in his hair before holding it out with another gondola smile. Handshake, awkward. I observed him more closely as he drew a second chair to our table, but was interrupted by the waiter. In front of Gabriel sat a still warm Chai Latte. Shit.

"An espresso, please."

Gabriel raised his bushy eyebrows to say, "I am awfully grateful that you got in touch. Your email was such a surprise! How did you find me?"

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. I took out the torn page of last month's L'Opinion from my jacket pocket and slid it over to his side of the table.

"Ah, of course."

Even though he must've seen it already, he skimmed over the short article, then folded and handed it back to me.

"Yes, that's the new me, Deputy Gabriel! But tell me about your life. Are you working for Microsoft now?"

It took me a second to understand. "Oh, I jumped that boat a long time ago. No, now I work for Femme Et Toi."

"The feminist group, really? Aren't their headquarters in Lyon?"

"Yup, I live there now." To fill the silence, I added, "It suits me" but chided myself right away.

"I thought Paris suited you well enough…" Was there sadness in his voice? He soon rallied, "But if you're happy…", then, "Are you? Happy?"

I was about to rebuff him, but reminded myself why I was here and said the truth instead: "Very."

"It's just, forgive me if I'm overstepping, but isn't it a bit of a waste? You were such a talented and driven programmer!"

"That talent and drive were exactly why Femme Et Toi hired me. It's also why I contacted you." My heart beat faster as I pronounced the last sentence, "I'd like your help."

"Oh?" his shoulders slunk ever so slightly before springing back, "Of course, anything I can do! Tell me what you need."

I watched the waiter place my coffee down and leave before explaining:

"You know Memento, right? I've built upon their EVR to accurately recreate events from the partial data of multiple subjects. In the article about you, they mention law project No. 759, and that you're in the commission, and —"

"— And you'd like the law to include your technology as evidence admissible in court?" He was already scratching his chin, sunny high brow wrinkled in concentration. "I mean, it's still in the revision process, so I suppose I could get you an audit. You'd need to build a solid case, though."

"Not a problem. You know, it would be best if we could make a demonstration on site."

"Agreed."

I was surprised at how easily he endorsed the project. He was thinking hard and fast. "The good thing is, if the demonstration proves conclusive and is included in the law, both parties can be required to submit to the test in court, which I imagine is what is needed for your EVR?" He locked his eyes to mine, and I nodded, sipping on my espresso. His tea had long gone cold.

"This brings me to my second request: I'd need two volunteers to demonstrate, which you can guess is hard to find."

He laughed then, but the smile quickly vanished when I concluded, "Would you agree to be a test subject? With me?"

He froze for a while, so I let my eyes wander on the scenery while he recovered and pondered. Straight ahead, the view on New Notre Dame was stunning, but my gaze was attracted to the trees of the Jardin des Plantes as they bent their naked branches over Rive Gauche like so many divers about to dip into the polluted river. Gabriel and I used to take our lunch breaks there. A bateau-mouche, Paris' emblematic long and flat cruise boat, passed underneath. I shivered, looked away and up at Gabriel. He was staring at me.

"No. I can't."

"You have to."

"That's not your call, Ines!" The corner of Gabriel's left eye twitched as he rambled on, "You're asking too much. Those memories... I've done so much to atone, I still am. You have no idea how hard —"

"Gabriel!" I cut him off, voice scratching my throat. I'd jerked up from my chair, so I took a deep breath and fought rage tears back down. When I sat again, it was with a controlled tone that I told him, "You owe me one."

LAST NIGHT WAS WILD, I OWE YOU ONE.

The note on your nightstand swirls before your eyes as memories of the previous night jump at you. Vintage Stromae remix shaking the whole boat, chatter, laughter, people chanting.

Two shaky exhales later, your bedroom stops spinning and you peel your yellow sheets from your sweaty skin. Gabriel, shouting in your ear, "Congrats on securing training data rights for your AI!"

Next to the note, a tall glass of tap water and two doses of paracetamol summon the migraine that had been lurking behind your eyeballs. You, shouting back, "It's thanks to your help!". Your hand, lingering on his chest, "When did you grow pecs?"

You grab the glass and swallow the two pills at once. You gulp the water down to the last drop, roll to a seat and plunge your feet in the plush tangerine carpet bathing in light. Too warm. Warm lips.

Once up, you careen over to the bathroom and sigh your relief as your feet touch deliciously cold tiles. You, tousling his wild hair: "Just have fun!"

Your vision tunnels ever so slightly as you stagger to the toilets. Curaçao-blue, rum, irradiated-green shot, burp, tequila shot… Hit by a wave of intense heat, you retch over the bowl — cheek pressing against the toilet seat — but only manage to spit.

LAST NIGHT WAS WILD.

Too hot… Swiping sweat from between your breasts, you're about to lift yourself back up when it hits you: you're in your underwear. Hands under your shirt. If you had taken the pain to undress last night before crashing, you would definitely have removed that wired bra and the thong, too.

You strip down for a shower, turn the temperature to a chill 18 C. Eyes closed, you let cold drip down your scalp, neck and spine, washing sweat away. When you open them again to scrub yourself with a soap bar, you notice love bites forming on your left breast. Hair tickling your collarbone as he pulls your bra down.

LAST NIGHT WAS WILD.

You frown, shake your head and scrub harder.

When the soap awakes a tenderness between your legs, you gasp in pained surprise. Bending your sore back to peek down, you brush the red and black stripes pulsing on your lips — soft skin pushing against the inside of your thigh — wince again. Clinking buckle as he zips up.

LAST NIGHT WAS WILD.

From the National Assembly Records.

Ms. Ines Danvers turned off the mem-upload and asked the committee members to remove their Enhanced Virtual Reality (EVR) helmets.

Danvers: "If you've used Memento before, you might have noticed this particular mem-upload feels different. I have built upon Memento's EVR technology and programmed two new features. At the time of download, we also measure the subject's physiological reactions to their memory. The mem-upload then stimulates the hypothalamus to trigger the same physiological reactions in the viewer's body. You feel the subject's fear, excitement, and anger as the memory unfolds. You sweat or feel nauseous as they did.

"The memories you just experienced were mine. 23 years ago, I lost in court because as you have seen, I only have a vague recollection of the event and my rape claim was dismissed.

"As you well know, that story isn't mine only, it's the story of women all across the nation. Girl derided, rapist exonerated."

Deputy Nadir: "A brave act for an edifying if disturbing experience, Miss Danvers, but the committee is well aware of the issue you raise. In fact, this is the sole purpose of the law project under revision. I fail to see how your modified EVR will curb the trend. Despite your clever addition of physiological triggers, this mem-load is still vulnerable to interpretation and dismissal."

Danvers: "Correct, which is where my second feature comes into play: using an AI of my own design, we can now blend memories of a singular event from multiple subjects to re-enact it as accurately as possible, each subject's memory filling factual and emotional gaps from the other. The man I accused of rape has agreed to download his memory of the event for this audit. Please, if you would put your EVR helmets back on…"

"Congrats on the data stuff for your AI!" a whiff of Ines' perfume mixed with alcohol and weed reaches you as you breathe into her hair.

"All thanks to you!" she shouts back over the music, hand lingering over your favorite fitted shirt, "Wow, strong abs!" her lopsided smile tingles your lower belly. "Did you follow me to this bateau-mouche party?" Not waiting for an answer, she leads you by the hand to the bar. The skin between her crop tank and skirt dances before your eyes as she wiggles through the crowd.

She buys two lagoon-blue shots and winks as she downs hers. You can't resist anymore, so you make your move, pulling her by the naked waist and kissing her, softly, then more deeply as she answers in kind. 'Two more', she signs to the barman and downs her refill with a heave, head leaned back, then tilted toward you. You ignore your glass and try to kiss her again, but she ducks, then tousles your hair and laughs, "Come on Gab, let's just have fun!". Shots pour, the tease babbles and drinks carelessly.

When she stumbles down her stool, you steady her. "Gotta puke" she moans, dry-mouthed, so you carry her to the toilets, lock the door behind you. She hunkers over the bowl; that skirt really hugs her back curves. You step closer, massage her neck. She sighs, so you move your hands lower, under the crop tank. She twists but retches again, so you continue rubbing her skin. When she's done, she falls back on the floor, arm around the sink's piping to support herself.

"Fuck," she groans, tugging on her clothes, "Too. Hot.", then her head lulls sideways. You help her out of her top. She's wearing a black-and-nude push-up bra with thin lace covering the top of her breasts, shivering with each labored breath. Below the left side of her bra, you uncover a mole drawing toward her nipple. She lifts her head, whines, fumbles with her exposed breast and pulled cup, hands trembling. You caress them away with a shush and lower your mouth to her soft skin.

Releasing her hands, you slide yours down her ribs, love handles, hips… Feel inside her thighs. Your heart beats faster. Unbuckling your belt, you finally climb above her. She twists her torso again, cups both hands between her legs. She might be trying to stroke you, but in effect she's just blocking your access so you cuff her again and thrust hard to keep her steady.

Back outside, a guy with a beer mug blurts out "Damn, she looks damaged!". Ines chuckles, gurgles "'S one way to put it…" You catch your breath but the moment has passed and the guy's left. Time to take Ines home.

"You owe me one."

Gabriel's face became a pressure cooker as he squared his jaw, eyes bulging out, mouth shrinking to a wrinkle.

When he spoke again, his smooth voice was raspy, his confident tone, pleading. "You don't understand, Ines. After I realized what I'd done, I changed. Countless hours of therapy, anger management, my work at the Assembly…"

I crossed my arms and leaned against the cold backrest. "Gee, thanks, man! You're right, how could I ever understand what you've gone through!"

Seeing where I'm going with this, he clicked his tongue, but I raised my hand to shut him up and continued, "During the trial, I was the one evaluated psychologically, my habits and lifestyle scrutinized, not you, because who would question the mental state of a rapist? Women are all hysterical anyway!"

"Ines, I didn't —"

"No, you did. Let me finish. You saw a therapist, learned anger management? Boo-fucking-hoo. I had PTSD, Gabriel! Don't get me wrong, it's great that you're working on yourself, but while you rose into politics to become a defender-of-the-weak deputy, I had 'lying, delusional, promiscuous addict' tattooed on my forehead. That, or people only saw the victim in me."

I scoffed, inhaled, and resumed in a calmer tone, "Worse: I saw myself as a victim." Gabriel had fallen silent, a deer staring into the headlights. I sighed. "Do the mem-download with me, please."

His gaze fluttered away. I pushed, "You know after twenty years, the case is past prescription, right? What do you have to lose?"

"Face. My position at the Assembly. Respect from my peers." He faced me, his upper lip starting to wobble, and my heart clenched.

"I've forgiven you, you know. For years, I couldn't. But then I realized it was the only way to find the courage to fight against the rape dismissal norm. Now, you show courage."

Tears rolled under his chin, so I took his hand on the table and squeezed once. He extended his fingers as if to hold my hand, but didn't. Instead, he breathed out a pained cry.

***

My favorite thing about Lyon is the vibrant riverside, with its barges metamorphosed into colors of floating cafes and bars. I welcomed my friends' group hug on our favorite barge that evening. After I'd recounted my trip to Paris, Berenice asked if I thought Gabriel would help.

I said, "Maybe not, but either way, that won't stop us from fighting for what's right."

__________________________________________________________________This story was written during the first round of the 2023 NYC Midnight Short Story Competition. I was given the following prompts: Drama (Genre), A Re-enactment (Subject), A Programmer (Character). Results on April, 11th. Wish me luck!

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