Analog XP

Established in 2031, Analog XP is LA's first post-smart phone video dating service!

The solar flare of '29 might have fried every server and destroyed every cell tower this side of the Atlantic, but people still get lonely. If anything, we're lonelier.

Yes, without smart phones, romance is harder. No dating apps, no texting.

Murder sprees, though? Way easier.

Here at Analog XP, we capitalize on both fronts.

My latest customer/potential victim sits in the chair on set, knees wide apart, slouching slightly as though this were beneath him. It's a common mistake.

"Let's have you sit up and lean in," I say. "Show some excitement, some engagement. Women like to see that. You're a cool guy, but don't be too aloof, okay?"

He sits up a bit.

I glance through the viewfinder, make sure he's centered. I hit record and hear the tape churn inside the analog camera equipment.

"Alright, we are now recording," I say. "Let's hear your intro."

"Hi, my name is Johnny. I'm thirty-four, financially stable, and one of my goals in life is to hike Mount Everest to get my football back."

This guy is trying too hard; most guys do. They try so hard to look like they're not trying at all, like they aren't yearning for love and acceptance. But he is. We all are.

I give him an encouraging smile. "You're doin' great, Johnny. Let's hear you talk a bit about what you're looking for in a relationship. Do you want to get married, have kids someday?"

"Sure. I'd love to get married, have kids, pass on a legacy. I think that that's important. The nuclear family is falling apart. Some people talk about the nuclear family like it's a crime, but it's foundational to society. I mean, look around. The world's falling apart. We need those traditional family values now more than ever."

Strike one, and it's a doozy. "Okay. Next, I like to ask about a shared experience most people can relate to. It makes you more personable. How did the solar flare effect you, and do you hope they'll get smart phones working again someday?"

He cracks a smile. "Damn, man. I miss my phone. I racked up so much screen time it's not even funny. Even just being able to scroll through socials on the toilet. Taking a shit is so boring now... Uh, actually, maybe we could delete that part."

"Yeah, sure thing." I won't. "Do you wanna have another go at that question or move on?"

"Yeah, lemme just—" he clears his throat and sits up. "This might be an unpopular opinion, but I can't help but think that the solar flare did us a favor. People are taking up more hobbies, spending time in nature, finding more time for human interaction. I think that's are good things."

I don't hate that answer. He earned some points one that one.

"This next question is important. For most women who come through here, the number-one things they want to know about a man before they meet him is where they stand politically. Tell us about your values, political beliefs, that sort of thing."

He prattles on for a while about a man's duty to provide. Gender role shit. He's voted Republican since as far back as he can remember. It takes all my effort not to roll my eyes. I nod encouragingly instead.

That's his second and third strike. Time to wrap things up.

"Great! I think we got it. My partner will edit your tape this afternoon and add it to our catalog."

"Then what?"

"We'll send you some tapes in the mail of some women's dating profiles. You should get them in a week or so. You just let us know if there are any women you're interested in. I'll send copies of your tape to them. If the interest is mutual, I'll set you up with each other's info, and hopefully you make a connection."

He pays me. I upcharge him. Call it reparations.

On his way out he stops and turns. "I'm just curious. Like, what are you?"

I know exactly what he's asking. I pretend confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I guess... Like, biologically?" He half-chuckles.

I flash a money-maker smile at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you look like a man, mostly..."

I make a noncommittal gesture.

"But like..." He squints at me. "The makeup and everything makes it hard to—no offense, but..."

That's when I decide to put him out of his misery. Permanently. "I'm nonbinary."

"Got it. So, biologically male?"

I can feel my smile losing authenticity. "Sure."

"Okay, I thought so." He sounds relieved. "It was hard to tell though, dude."

"I know. So confusing. Like, 'what am I?'"

"Right? Exactly. Take it easy, man." He laughs to himself on his way out the door.

I head to the back rooms where rows upon rows of videotapes line the walls. My business partner sits at an editing bay surrounded by analog equipment.

I hold up Johnny's tape. "I find the defendant guilty."

"Of what?"

"Being generally gross, and pissing me off. Watch his tape. I think you'll agree."

"His sentence?" She asks.

I purse my lips. "I was thinking death."

"Okay..." She sounds pensive.

"Something on your mind?"

"I support holding individual men accountable for their behavior. You know that."

"I sense a 'but' coming..."

"But... when a boy is raised in a misogynist culture, should we really treat him as though the sins of an entire system of oppression rest on his shoulders? Should we not see him as the boy who didn't choose Patriarchy, but had Patriarchy thrust upon him? Should we not afford him grace and a chance at reform?"

I hold a hand to my chest. I am speechless.

She stifles a laugh.

"Oh, you're bad," I bark a laugh. "You had me going for a minute!"

"I did!" she throws her head back with a cackle. "The look on your face! We're totally going to kill him."

I laugh harder, wiping a tear from my eye. "Oh yeah. He's toast."

We enjoy a good laugh, then get back to work.

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