“Noah, River, good to see you,” Elisa says, gesturing to two seats at the eight-person conference table. “Have a seat. Tina will be in shortly with some coffee.”

“Thank you,” I reply. I don’t need coffee this late in the day, but I’m damn sure not going to say no. I’ll sip it politely and gratefully and then work out a bit extra to get the caffeine out of my system so I can sleep tonight.

River is a bit bolder, though. “Water for me, please.”

I want to slap him stupid. Or stupider. But Elisa doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a button and calling out to Tina, “Two coffees, one water, please.”

“Great. Now, let’s get to business. We’re obviously here to discuss your latest project, BlindDate. Dazzle me with the numbers,” Lady Elisa orders, sitting down in her chair.

She has faith in us, in the app, which means a lot, but these figures aren’t quite the razzle-dazzle I want them to be. They never are. I reach into my coat and take out the thumb drive I saved all my data on and plug it into the computer integrated into the table as River talks.

“We’ve made a good launch.” River starts on a good note. I get the computer up, and River continues. “As you see here, we’re currently in the top ten among social media apps in various app stores, which is a benchmark goal of the project.”

I flip to the next slide. “However, we’re not seeing the number of downloads we’d hoped for.”

That’s an understatement. I was hoping at this point to have five million or more people signed up, and we’re at one-tenth of that. Not that half a million is something to sneeze at, but it’s not going to set the dating world on fire the way I’d hoped.

“Hmm . . . okay, let’s review,” Lady Elisa says. “Noah, walk me through your thought processes on this and remind me where we are. It’s an evolution of your Friendzone app, correct?”

I appreciate that she remembers that much. Life Corp has multiple apps in the online store, some focused on finding love like BlindDate, but others focused on self-care, meditation, health, food, friends, and more. That Elisa has even a basic idea of what BlindDate is about is a relief and a compliment I don’t take lightly.

I take over the presentation from River, wanting to get the phrasing just right, the way I practiced it when we pitched this idea. “Exactly. When River and I developed Friendzone, one of the things we wished we could have done better was the interest matching system. Friendzone uses a pretty basic system that’s highly dependent on the user inputting their information accurately and truthfully.”

“And yet people don’t always answer accurately or honestly,” Lady Elisa says. “Not a big deal if they’re looking for someone to be bowling buddies with, but it’s perhaps a larger issue for a love connection.” She laughs lightly at the non-joke, and we chuckle along as expected. “So, what did you do?”

“We included a one hundred-question survey that is fed into a highly advanced algorithm to ensure good matches,” River answers.

“What makes it helpful is that the survey is judging psychologies and personalities even without the user’s awareness,” I add. “We worked with a team of psychologists to make it as comprehensive as possible.”

Lady Elisa whistles. “Excellent. So, the questionnaire and algorithm are what sets BlindDate apart from the rest of the field, making it different than Match, Tinder, Grindr, etcetera, which have been around a long time. That’s what we need to push as the number-one sales point. Make users want that high-percentage match number.” She makes a fist, lightly hitting the table to emphasize the great idea as if it’s not exactly what we’ve been doing with our ad campaign. Point made, she moves on. “And then what happens once that match is made?”

“Every other app out there talks about love, but the very first thing people see is a photo. Lust, not love. And our research showed that even for people who were supposedly looking for love, they’d click yes or no within ten seconds based primarily on the profile picture. BlindDate gets rid of the profile picture. Instead, using the survey, the AI searches through the database and finds you matches that you can scroll through at your leisure. But since you have to take a few moments and actually read someone’s information, you have to get to know them. And we encourage the users to talk before meeting. We want them to get to know one another.”

“That weeds out the superficial hookup seekers,” River adds, “and studies show that attractiveness is rated higher when a person has an emotional connection to someone already established.” Elisa’s eyes glaze over, and I glare at River. He takes a big breath and tries again. “The funny guy becomes cuter because he can make his girl laugh, and the shy woman is more attractive once she shows how sweet and kind she is.”

At that, Elisa nods. “I do like a man who can make me laugh.” Elisa Montgomery has been single since her husband died twenty years ago, and judging by the utter lack of lines on her face, she hasn’t laughed since.

Maybe she should do the BlindDate questionnaire? I think to myself, never dreaming of suggesting it aloud. “Exactly,” I say instead. “We’ll continue working on increasing memberships, tweaking the AI so matches are even more accurate now that we have a larger sampling, and ensuring that no bugs arise with widespread usage.” I’m making promises to Elisa that I’ve already made to myself a dozen times—more, better, push, succeed.

Lady Elisa gives me a supportive look. “Noah, the app’s making money and growing. I’m satisfied with the current launch.”

Satisfied? That’s not nearly enough, not remotely the description I want from Elisa.

“All in all, good job. Let’s talk about it next month. In the meantime, please excuse me. I have a lunch meeting, and if I’m not out the door in thirty seconds, Tina will be nipping at my heels,” she says good-naturedly.

It’s a polite but clear dismissal, and Riv and I retreat, resisting the urge as I always do to bow at the door as I depart.

Back in River’s office, I jump in with the plan for our next steps.

“So, we need to go over these numbers again, figure out how to get more people to join,” I tell him as Riv sits down at his desk, leaning back and propping his feet on its surface.

He’s chill, fine even after that clusterfuck of a meeting. Too fine, in my opinion, and I let him know that by knocking his feet to the floor. His chair wobbles back and forth, but like a Weeble, he doesn’t fall over, unfortunately. “Chill out. The numbers are good. Lady Elisa was fine with them. Take the win.”

“That wasn’t a win!” River doesn’t get it, my need to compete and to win. My need to succeed.

He didn’t come from where I came from, and while he knows the facts, he doesn’t understand the reality of my past. I don’t think anyone who hasn’t lived through it can.

“Dude, hitting target is literally the definition of a win,” Riv counters. “Just because you wanted to be bigger than Zuckerberg at this point doesn’t mean it’s reasonable. And not everyone has to live up to your crazy-high expectations.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I growl, and Riv reaches down, cupping himself and pretending to jack off.