The Third

I'd been questioning my decision to ask about bringing someone, but now I had to. They'd think I was a total loser if I asked then didn't show up with a date. I screwed up my courage and whipped out my phone, dialing the most recent entry in my phone book. Amber answered, confused but receptive. It took a minute to convince her that she gave me her number, but after that it was easy. Party at a tech mogul's house with lots of powerful people. She was in, thank god. Showing up with pretty blonde arm candy would certainly make this easier.

I wonder if they're actually scouting for jobs at this thing? Should I bring some kind of portfolio? My grades? Whoa, calm down man. It's just a party.

—Sophia—

"Looks like its going well, don't you think?" My husband and I stood on the balcony, surveying our guests as they milled around. That awkward stage in the party where not everyone has arrived and most people don't know each other... I didn't blame him for hiding up here, especially tonight.

"I guess," he said nervously. "I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"We don't have to, but I think—"

"I know. It really feels like our last option..." He started glancing around, counting. "I guess there are enough of them here, we should probably go start to mingle. Plan is still the same, right? Decide at nine?"

I nodded. "Yes my love. I know you said the ultimate choice is mine, but please be fair to yourself. You have to live with this too." He smiled weakly back. "Alright then."

There's Thomas, Gavin, Robert... Kyle, Ryan, Mathias. My stomach twisted, I felt bad not remembering all their names. I waded through the sea of guests and greeted everyone I met. I was grateful for my family that showed up and the people from Cam's company that we'd known for years. They made it seem a little more like a real party and not the bizarre interview that it really was.

Everything about the event was engineered. Cam had agonized over the placement of tables, the kinds of food, the music. Hidden cameras and microphones would record every interaction and feed it through a version of his software. With any luck, we'd come out with a clear winner in a few hours.

Oh, there's Jonathan. I smiled to myself. Pretty date. Of course she is, he looks like my husband...

—Jonathan—

"Ohmigod Jon, this place is amazing. Who are these people again?"

I gazed in awe at the beautifully modern mansion of a house, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about bringing Amber.

"Guy who went to my school," I said quietly, "from years ago. He's one of the most successful alumni ever. Created software that optimizes traffic. Cuts down on jams, wrecks, pollution. Bay Area Transit was their first customer. His algorithm started off with the basic premise that left turns are bad. Most of the traffic signals don't protect left turns, so it always takes longer. Removing them from a route almost always saves time and fuel. The company name, get it? LefTurn..." She looked at me with a blank but pleasant stare. "Doesn't matter. Listen, I could land a job here. Or at least some really amazing contacts."

"I got it," she said, "I'm cool. I won't embarrass you."

"Thanks," I said, grinning back and squeezing her hand. She really was adorable. This house though, holy shit... The Hardings lived in the northwest corner of the city, a great view of the bay, the ocean, and the Golden Gate. Their multilevel house had outdoor terraces on each level, all of them full of people. There were tables of food and drinks everywhere, catchy but nondescript music enveloped the whole space.

We wound through the groups of other guests, shaking a few hands and introducing myself to anyone who looked to be older than thirty. They'd be the important people here. We each made a plate and took drinks, everything was on par with what we served in the restaurant. Unheard of for catering. I finally spotted our hosts on the second story deck, quickly dragging Amber up to make our presence known. Amber gave Sophia a veiled once-over as I did introductions, but was at least friendly.

"So good to see you again," said Cameron, shaking my hand, the other arm wrapped protectively around his wife. "Glad you could make it. Hope the grub is up to snuff, you'd know though, right?"

I laughed and assured them everything was amazing. Sophia pecked me on the cheek and they waded off into the crowd. We found seats near a glass wall facing the Presidio, a kid about our age bringing another tray of tapas and glasses of wine a while later. I got up to introduce myself to another alum I recognized from the school's website, I was pretty sure he worked for Google now.

"Is there gonna be dancing or anything here?" Amber asked after half an hour, apparently bored.

"I dunno..." I answered. Networking really isn't fun. Kind of a chore, actually. I wasn't going to squander the opportunity just to keep a chick I met yesterday occupied. "Come on, let's go down by the pool. Looks like that's were the action is."

I took her hand and led us down. The lower area certainly had the largest share of guests. As we descended the stairs, I got a funny feeling as I glanced around. I quickly counted five people that looked rather like me. Six foot or so, athletic, blonde.

That's weird. Freshman psychology class kicked in as I realized Cameron Harding was one of those five. People often surround themselves with others that have similar qualities. I'd taken it to mean intelligence and talents, this was more literal I guess. Maybe Sophia got to make the guest list...

We strolled by the pool, one of the few children I'd noticed splashed happily as she knelt on the edge, dipping her fingers into the water. I glanced around and nobody was obviously keeping an eye on the three or four-year-old. As we walked, she reached out over the side, maybe trying to grab a plastic LED lantern that was floating by. I saw her lean and lose her balance, pitching headfirst toward the water.

"Whoa," I said, quieter that I should have, not wanting to attract attention. I let go of Amber's hand and dove forward, landing on my knees just next to the girl. I scooped under her waist, just the tip of her forehead breaking the surface of the water before I yanked her back. The momentum carried me up and back onto my feet. The little girl quickly spun in my arms and looked me straight in the eyes.

"Thanks," she giggled. "You're tall."

I laughed involuntarily and smiled widely at her. I set her down gently and pivoted away from the edge of the pool.

"You're not!" She flashed me a mischievous sideways glance and reached out, pausing before tapping my wet elbow.

"You're it!" she squealed and tore off into the crowd.

I watched people's heads bob out of the way as she ran toward the corner of the terrace. I don't know why I followed her, but I did. She snickered when I caught up. She'd made a little nest, taking over an entire table with blankets, toys and books. She had a tablet propped up streaming a cartoon that she wasn't paying attention to. "This is my castle. You may enter."

"I see, and who is the queen of this castle?"

"I am," she said defiantly, "Queen Kayla!"

"Long live Queen Kayla," I said officially, giving her a salute. I cast a dubious glance under the table, blankets draped over the side.

"That's the dungeon," she answered seriously. "Wanna see it?"

I bit my lip, wondering what kind of crazy twist the night had taken. I looked down at holes ripped in the knees of my pants and the wet arm of my shirt. No more good first impressions tonight. Why not.

"Very much, Queen Kayla."

We climbed under the table, she giggled when I banged my head on one of the legs.

"You're just too big!" she laughed.

"Or your dungeon is too small, my queen." More laughter. She had another compliment of books underneath and what looked to be a half-finished Lego dragon. A bowl of pasta mixed with probably every other dish at the party provided an interesting odor as we crouched there.

Kayla lifted the blanket just enough for us to see out. She pointed at various people nearby, assigning them all names and titles for her court. I laughed at her wonderful imagination. The blanket tented over our faces as she called out prince of dirty diapers, lady sockwasher, and lord eat-your-peas. My head swiveled with hers as she built her kingdom, stopping on a couple talking nearby. Amber was chatting animatedly with one of my doppelgangers, her hand on his arm, then shoulder, then chest.

"They'll be the prince and princess of bath time," she decreed. I snorted and laughed out loud, it was too funny for me to even be jealous.

—Sophia—

"Your software is amazing Cam, but it seems so impersonal." We stared out over the sea of guests below us from the private third floor balcony.

"Data doesn't lie my love," he said sweetly. He was swiping through the profiles on the app he'd loaded on our phones, just like I was. "Some pretty good scores so far."

"Yeah. So how do you calculate the scores, anyway?"

"The cameras and microphones all around the house are recording everything. Conversations, walking patterns, what they eat, who they talk to, how long they talk."

"Seems like an invasion of privacy..."

"It's our house. Besides, do you think the person we select is going to care?" He flashed me a wry smile.

"What are all the little pictures on each profile?" I asked, noticing a grid of tiny thumbnails below each candidate's larger photo and score.

"Those are the video files. I knew you'd insist on watching them yourself later so you could agonize over the decision you already made."

"I stuck my tongue out, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Who are you looking at there," I asked, glancing at his phone.

"Frank Gimball, he works for me. He's got a ninety-two... But I dunno, I'm rethinking having him in the pool. Do we think this is something we want to mix with our professional interests? What if he blackmailed us later?"

"Any of them could do that," I said, swiping through more profiles. "Ooh, here's a ninety-seven. Samuel Stark..."

"Giants game," said Cam, "remember? He was sitting right in front of us. Knocked over a beer into that poor girl's lap."

"Right," I chuckled. "God, I hate baseball."

"He's the frontrunner so far."

We both went back to scanning the app, flipping through photos and examining scores. I started watching some of the video clips, most were what you'd expect people to do at a party. Boring small talk, guys loading up on shrimp and stuffed mushrooms. Hang on, here's a ninety-five. Jonathan Howerton. Right, the latecomer. The waiter.

I flicked through the videos, most had the cute blonde he'd brought with him. He talked to a lot of other people though, interesting. He wouldn't know any of them... I scrolled to his last video, the red dot in the corner of the thumbnail indicating it was still recording. I tapped to play it.

"Oh my god Cam, look at this." I backed it up and held the phone for him to see. "He just grabbed Kayla so she wouldn't fall into the pool."

"Your brother already drunk and not watching her, I suppose?"

"Probably," I glared at him. "But look..." We watched as he followed her over to her little fort, playing games and laughing under the table. I glanced to the far corner of the pool level and sure enough, there they were. Heads sticking out of the blanket, giggling and pointing. No more discussion necessary.

"He's the one."

"Are you sure?" said Cam expectantly. "He doesn't even have the highest score."

"Two points? Isn't that well within your statistical deviation?"

"I love it when you argue with math." He smiled at me, clicking the screen of his phone off. "I guess we're done then, right?"

I nodded. "Well, he still has to say yes."

—Jonathan—

"I should probably go pay attention to my date," I said to the little girl. My knees were getting sore from kneeling under the table.

"Aunt Sophie!" Kayla shrieked, bounding ahead, taking the tangle of blankets with her.

Amber glanced over, seeing me extricate myself from the fort. She waved demurely to the guy she'd been chatting up and came back, tentatively taking my one still-dry arm.

"Having fun?" she asked snidely.

I was just about to respond when out hosts approached us.

"I hear you saved our little Kayla from taking a swim?" said Sophia warmly.

"Thanks man," said Cameron, shaking my hand.

"Oh, it was nothing, I was just there are the right time."

"Listen, we wanted to talk to you for a few minutes," he said seriously. "Well, probably more than a few minutes. Inside."

Amber glanced at me, a tinge of annoyance in her eyes.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you want," said Sophia graciously to her, "if you're ready to leave before we're done with him, just talk to the large man at the front door. He'll call a car for you, okay?"

"That's very nice of you," said Amber. "Thanks." She not-to-subtly glanced over her shoulder at the guy she'd been talking with.

"Right this way then," said Cameron, gesturing toward the house.

They led me inside, through the vast dining room and kitchen to a set of stairs leading downward. The wide steps turned three times, expensive artwork adoring the walls. The basement was richly appointed, expensive couches and lounges flanked a billiard table. Several large televisions hung above a wet bar probably twenty feet long. Cameron darted behind it, quickly producing a pair of glasses and a shaker.

"Martini?"

"Sure," I said, having never tried one.

Sophia sauntered up to a barstool, deftly crossing her legs and sitting down. She swiveled to face me as her husband shook our drinks. He poured the clear liquid over the olives and handed me a glass. We toasted and sipped, the ice-cold gin tasting rather better than I'd imagined it would. I willed my hand holding the glass to stop shaking as my whole body began to tingle. What could they possibly want with me? A job with his company? Doubt they do recruiting in his basement... Maybe some kind of scholarship? Philanthropy program or something?

—Cameron—

"By just about any standard," I blurted out, finally screwing up the courage to start, "we're pretty lucky. Successful, wealthy, opportunity almost beyond calculation."

"Oh, I dunno," said Jonathan politely, "you worked really hard to build your company. Coding a hundred hours a week, working out of your parents' garage..."

"There's ten thousand other people with the same story, but very few of them make it this far. The universe somehow chose me to be successful, which I'm grateful for. But... this," I stared around, looking at the castle I'd built for us, "this isn't everything. I... we want more out of life."

"We want to have a family," said Sophia, staring into Jonathan's eyes. "More than anything, more than all of this. And we can't. At least... not together."

"I'm not sure I follow," said Jonathan.

Okay, now or never. Time to lay it all out.

"As fate would have it, I have a genetic deficiency that renders my sperm useless. The little swimmers are... well, they just don't. We tried in-vitro fertilization, drugs, herbs, you name it. We had a viable embryo once, but it turns out that Sophie is deathly allergic to one of the compounds in the serum."

"Don't they have some other formula they could use?" asked Jonathan, going straight into problem-solving mode.

"They're working on it, but it will probably be years," said my wife, the longing tone in her voice breaking my heart.

"What about a surrogate or something?"

"My balls have all but dried up since then, there's no way for us to produce another embryo. There's really only one way we're going to have a family." I took a deep breath and drained my martini.

—Jonathan—

Holy shit... My jaw went slack as I realized what I think the Hardings were asking. They both just stared at me. Cameron set down his empty glass, I sucked down the rest of mine as well, coughing after an olive caught in my throat.

"You guys want me to..."

"Yes," said Sophia, putting a delicate hand on my shoulder. "We want you to get me pregnant."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the hell was happening here? I thought I was getting a job offer. I guess it is a job offer. A million things ran through my head, not least of which was the gorgeous woman sitting uncomfortably close to me. A large part of my brain imagined what she looked like beneath that tight dress, not that it took a lot of imagination.

"If you can't do in-vitro... it would be, like..." I squeaked out.

"Having sex. The good old-fashioned way," said Cameron.

They both smiled somewhat expectantly as I sat there, dumbfounded. I looked back and forth between them, knowing they were waiting for me to speak. I forced myself to stop thinking about the actual act and work out the other details flying around in my brain. Before I regained the self-control to think about it, my mouth started moving.

"Ohhh... so that's why a bunch of guys here looked like me... well, like us. You wanted the kid to have a good chance he or she would look like yours." I felt bad as soon as I'd said it and stared apologetically at him.

"To put a point on it, yes. We'd obviously want to do this as discretely as possible. You'd of course sign over your parental rights to me, and agree never to take any legal action to get them back. You'd also sign a non-disclosure agreement saying that you'll never tell another soul about the child or our arrangement."

"That sounds fair," I said slowly, the gravity of bringing a life into the world somehow becoming infinitely more real and bizarre at the same time. "How long do you think it will take?"

"We don't know," said Sophia. "The fertility specialists we've seen say that my allergy to the implant serum could possibly signify a problem with my reproductive system. The condition is so rare, they've never even studied it. It might take once, it might take a hundred times, it might never work. We just don't know. We only hope that you're our best shot."

"I assume you've never had your semen tested," said Cameron, jumping right into the business.

I shook my head.

"Let me lay this out for you. We'll of course need to test a sample for sperm count, motility, STDs, all the usual. If you agree to that, I'll write you a check tonight for ten grand. No strings attached. You can walk away and do whatever you want with it. Assuming everything looks good though, we have a much more attractive offer. I can tell you about it now, or you can wait until after the tests, it's up to you."

"Tell me know," I said, sliding forward on the stool. "I mean, I'm just curious."

"Of course. Since we don't know how long it will take, you'll be under contract for a year. Sophia's menstrual cycle is irregular, so her fertile times from month to month vary wildly. Given your living situation in Daly City, it would be easier if you moved here. So, that's the first part of the offer. Room and board while your... services are provided."

"First part?" I asked. I get to live here and have sex with... her. "There's more?"

"Jon, can I call you Jon?" Sophia asked warmly, "I'm not sure you realize what this would mean to us. We're talking about a child, a family. We'd give—"

"A lot," Cameron interrupted. "First, we'll arrange payment for your education, on through graduate school if you want it. Living expenses, books, all of it. And, at the end of the year or a successful pregnancy, you get a check for five hundred thousand. A nice chunk to get started with..."