Gorby ordered his wife from Sony on April 17, 2050. She was on clearance, and his recent raise in salary improved his credit rating enough for him to get good financing.

“I don’t understand,” his mother said to him when he called her. The expressions filter morphed her voice and image into indifferent neutrality, but Gorby wasn’t fooled. “I could set you up with Dave and Robert’s daughter—”

“Mom! Why can’t you just be happy for me?” he whined, and though the filter made it sound casual at her end, she wasn’t fooled, either.

“You’ve never even met it,” she said. True, but that wasn’t the point. The point was the FB203 would be his woman. Not that he’d turn her off, much less rebuild the OS (unless there was a major upgrade), it was just…

Just that knowing he could was, was… liberating, would be the best word. He was awkward, shy and ugly. And, anyway, 89% of traditional marriages ended in divorce. Was that what mother wanted? His marriage would last.

Unless he missed two consecutive payments.