The boyfriend algorithm, p.1
The Boyfriend Algorithm, page 1
Table of Contents
About the Boyfriend Algorithm
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
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Sneak Peek
A Message from E.J.
Also by E.J. Russell
About the Author
Acknowledgements
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.
The Boyfriend Algorithm
Copyright © 2015 (under Lost in Geeklandia), 2019 by E.J. Russell
Cover art: L.C. Chase, http://lcchase.com/design.htm
First Edition Editors: Robin Haseltine and Theresa M. Cole
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review.
NO AI/NO BOT. We do not consent to any Artificial Intelligence (AI), generative AI, large language model, machine learning, chatbot, or other automated analysis, generative process, or replication program to reproduce, mimic, remix, summarize, or otherwise replicate any part of this creative work, via any means: print, graphic, sculpture, multimedia, audio, or other medium. We support the right of humans to control their artistic works.
ISBN: 978-1-947033-05-4
Second edition
March 2019
Contact information:
ejr@ejrussell.com
Technology is easy. Relationships? Not so much.
When introverted computer engineer Charlie Forrester developed a passive matchmaking model for her doctoral dissertation, she never expected it to go beyond theoretical. Now, with her dream job on the line, she has thirty days to prove her program’s accuracy. The only problem? She’s the test subject, and her stupid algorithm has chosen watchdog reporter Daniel Shawn, her childhood best friend-turned-nemesis, as her perfect partner.
Notorious for his relentless pursuit of technology fraud, Daniel’s reputation tanked when he fell victim to an online matchmaking con. When he discovers evidence of a scam reboot, he’s convinced it’s the perfect story to redeem his career.
Charlie has awkwardness down to a science, but a relationship with Daniel could mean more than simple humiliation. If he discovers her algorithm uses the same concepts as the sting that ruined him, he could destroy her professional credibility forever.
But as Charlie gradually emerges from her techno-cave, she realizes that being outed as the “Love Programmer” might be less devastating than actual love.
(The Boyfriend Algorithm is a retitled and slightly expanded edition of Lost in Geeklandia.)
For Hana, Ross, and Nick, because they’re only occasionally embarrassed by their mother.
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Geekronym: UI
Translation: User interface
Definition: The system by which people (users) interact with a machine (computer hardware or software).
For the fourth time in two months, Charlie Forrester huddled behind a vast floral arrangement, the scent of roses heavy in the air, and cursed the statistically improbable number of Stage One men who populated the average wedding reception.
Stage Ones were all about immediate gratification, so what did exactly did they expect to accomplish? Get lucky with a sentimental bridesmaid? Taunt the groom with their continued freedom? If so, they picked the wrong wedding. This maid of honor was as sentimental as a hit man, and the groom, a Stage Four to the roots of his slightly receding hair, hadn’t registered anyone but his bride since Audrey’s first step down the aisle.
On the other hand, Stage Ones weren’t picky about which appetite to gratify. Maybe they’re here for the free food.
But whatever the reason, there were far too many of them between Charlie and the exit, exponentially increasing the likelihood of eye contact before she could make her escape. Lord. She shuddered. Eye contact with a Stage One? I might as well have “My place or yours?” tattooed on my forehead.
She spotted her roommate Gideon flirting with one of the waiters over a glass of champagne and glowered at him before ducking behind the flowers again. This is all his fault. He was the one who’d talked her into taking her doctoral dissertation out of the theoretical and into the practical with a focused field study. But when she’d agreed—reluctantly—she’d never bargained on ending up smack in the middle of her test subjects. During the last eight months, she’d gotten dragged to more social events than she’d attended in her previous twenty-six years.
For heaven’s sake, she wasn’t the one who wanted a relationship. She just wanted to prove what she’d posited: with the right data and a limited target pool—in her case, the unfortunately large circle of her roommate Lindsay’s friends—she could predict the most likely successful pairings, without the need for any of the subjects to articulate their preferences. Everybody lied in those online dating profiles anyway, but they couldn’t hide from their data.
Data always told the truth.
The spiky purple blooms in front of her parted to reveal Gideon, his eyes narrow behind his red vanity glasses. “Charles, why are you lurking among the lupines?” He let go of them and flanked the flower basket. If contempt were a computer virus, the look on Gideon’s face would have wiped her hard drive in a heartbeat. “I retract the question. Anyone would hide under these appalling circumstances.” He shielded his eyes with one hand. “That dress. God, Charles. Words fail. Promise me you’ll never, ever wear a boat-necked anything again in your life.”
Whenever words failed Gideon, he somehow continued talking, occasionally for hours. Charlie glanced down at her navy sheath. “It’s raw silk. I thought you’d approve.”
“While I appreciate your excursion into upscale natural fibers, you’ve attended four weddings in the last two months.”
“Don’t remind me.” The women in the target pool were so thrilled with the results of Charlie’s algorithm that they invited her to their weddings, and she couldn’t let Lindsay down by refusing to go.
“Apparently I must. Because that’s four times you could have upgraded to an outfit that makes you look less like a ball-point pen topped by a head on a platter.”
“Will you stop being so conspicuous?” Charlie cowered lower behind the greenery, flapping her hands to shoo him away. “She’ll notice you, and then she might see me.”
“Who?”
“The maid of honor. Audrey’s business partner, Shanna. She hates me.” Charlie peeked through a cloud of baby’s breath at the woman next to the bride at the head table. Not even a ruched purple satin bridesmaid’s dress with puffed sleeves the size of beach balls could make Shanna look anything less than svelte and deadly.
“Ah, the Wicked Witch of IT Staffing West.” Gideon sidled up next to her. “Shouldn’t you be over there schmoozing with her instead of skulking here amid the snapdragons? While Audrey’s away on her honeymoon, Shanna holds the power over your next temp assignment in her gel-manicured claws. Cultivating that relationship is a career survival technique, Charles, plain and simple.”
Charlie ducked again when Shanna turned her head. “Audrey will only be gone a month. I can wait.”
Other geeks might dream of landing a job with a Silicon Valley giant, or of scoring the venture capital for a bleeding-edge start-up and hitting the billionaire mark with the next viral app. Not Charlie.
All she wanted, all she’d ever wanted since she’d seen the documentary on Anthony Global Solutions when she was eight years old, was to work for AGS, the high-tech equivalent of the Peace Corps. Their mission statement—Practical, integrated application of science and technology, aimed at lasting improvement in people’s lives—had molded her entire life.
Unfortunately, ITS West was the exclusive gateway to AGS employment, and until Audrey returned to work, Shanna was the exclusive gateway to ITS West.
Charlie wasn’t worried though. According to all her data, AGS wouldn’t be lifting its current hiring freeze for at least another three months. Until then, she could make do with temporary staffing assignments, just as she’d done since moving back to Portland after getting her PhD.
&nbs p; The iconic guitar intro to “Happy Together” blared over the speakers behind them, causing all the Stage Twos and Threes—both men and women—to surge onto the dance floor. The Stage Ones, predictably, retreated to the open bar.
“Honestly.” She propped her fists on her hips. “Don’t wedding DJs bother to run their set list’s lyrics through semantic analysis?”
Gideon peered at her over the top of his glasses. “I assume that’s a rhetorical question.”
“‘Imagine’ and ‘if’ and ‘could.’ This isn’t a happy-ever-after song. It’s an unrequited love song.” She shuddered. “And maybe a little stalkerish too.”
“Seriously, Charles. How many of the people in this room would even consider looking past the bouncy beat and Howard Kaylan’s swoony vocals to find some dark psychological backstory?”
“Lin would.” Charlie jerked her chin in Lindsay’s direction. “Just look at her.”
Gideon glanced over his shoulder to where Lindsay stood alone, a wan shadow of her usual smile on her face, and his expression clouded. “Damn Will Tuckett and the horse he rode in on. Although when viewed from behind, there’s no difference between Tuckett and the horse, is there? Hmmm…” His eyes narrowed. “There once was an asshole named Tuckett.”
“Gideon.” Charlie laced her voice with as much warning as possible.
Predictably, Gideon ignored her. “Who kept all his brains in a bucket. He behaved like a churl to our darling girl, so now Mr. Tuckett can—”
“Save the rude limericks for later. We need to get her out of here.”
“An escape, eh?” He raised an eyebrow. “For her benefit or your own?”
Charlie smacked him on the biceps. “Hers, you jerk.”
“Don’t lie, Charles. You’d rather burrow inside your techno-cave than venture into the social wilds. For that matter, you’d rather have your toenails pulled out by rabid wombats.”
He had a point although she drew the line at rabid. Large gatherings—and she defined large as greater than three—made her hands sweat. She wiped them on the skirt, the nubbly fabric rough against her damp palms.
“If only Lin would let me add her to the user group. She’s a textbook Stage Three, and they’re miserable without a partner.”
“Wait. What?” He pressed a hand to his chest and staggered back a step. “Is this the Charlie Forrester who starts each morning counting down the days until she can decommission the Love Program?”
“Yes and don’t call it that.” She smacked him again. “It’s not a program. It’s a statistical model, and it’s not a ‘love’ anything. It’s Studies in Predictive Mating Behaviors Predicating on Social Media Interaction.” Charlie knew with 93.7 percent certainty that her algorithm could find Lindsay a way better boyfriend than the idiot fiancé who’d dumped her. “If she wanted, though, I’d extend it. For her.” Indefinitely if necessary, although Charlie doubted it would take longer than sixty days, tops. Not for beautiful, sweet, perfect Lindsay. She doubted it would take a week.
“There may be hope for you yet, Charles.” He grabbed her elbow and dragged her out from behind her flower fortress. “Let’s get our girl before the bouquet-tossing horror begins.”
The two of them navigated the maze of lavender-clothed tables. Halfway across the room, Gideon got snagged by some guy who’d been eyeing him all afternoon, so Charlie reached Lindsay’s side alone, just as she turned down yet another invitation to dance.
“Oh, hi, Charlie. Are you enjoying the party?” Lindsay turned toward the head table where the bride and groom, typical of Stage Fours, hadn’t bothered to look at anyone else for at least half an hour. “Doesn’t Audrey look happy? And all because of you. Without the Love App, Audrey and Nathan might never have met.”
Charlie’s cheeks heated, despite the blast of air conditioning from the vent overhead, and she glanced around for potential eavesdroppers. “Don’t call it that, Lin, please. It’s not an app. It’s—”
“A statistical model. Yes, I know. But love is the result. You should be proud.
Pride was one thing. Notoriety was another, and nothing curdled an introvert’s blood like the limelight. “Are you ready to head home?”
“Already? But the party’s not over yet. Won’t Audrey miss us if we leave?”
Charlie glanced behind herself, but everyone was still dancing, singing along with the Turtles, apparently oblivious to what the song was actually saying about a dysfunctional relationship. “She’ll never realize we’re gone, and I need to leave before anyone else notices me. Do you know that six women from the user group have asked me to add new men to the data pool? Men they’ve just met?”
Lindsay wrinkled her nose. “I wish you wouldn’t call them that, Charlie. It makes them sound like substance abusers.”
Well, in the wrong hands, relationships could qualify as a controlled substance, considering how they could alter the consciousness of ordinarily sane and reasonable people. Or how they could ruin the lives of even the most gentle and inoffensive, Lindsay being a case in point.
“Sorry. But they should know by now that I can’t add any random guy just because they think he’s hot.” If that was all that mattered to them, they didn’t need her data at all. “I have to research the men. Harvest their online data. Run them through the evaluation algorithm before I’ll add them to the matrix. Otherwise…” Charlie broke off as a smile twitched Lindsay’s lips. “What?”
“For someone who complains so much about the Lo—the statistical model, you spend an awful lot of time taking care of these women.”
Charlie sighed. “I may not be crazy about my role as their digital date enabler, but I can’t let anything bad to happen to them because I didn’t do my job. Besides, do you see those guys?” The clueless “Happy Together” dancers had been replaced by a couple dozen guys singing along with “Too Sexy for My Shirt,” accompanied by hoots from the other guests. “I don’t have to pull their data to know they’re all Stage Ones.”
“Why is that bad?”
“All the users—sorry, the women—are Stage Twos and above. They want at least short-term monogamy, not a Stage One one-night stand.” Charlie pushed her curls off her forehead, searching for the right way to explain herself. “There’s a responsibility that comes with this kind of information. That’s one of the reasons I’ll never let this go any further than a field study. If it were packaged, commercialized, I couldn’t trust that… that…”
Lindsay patted her shoulder. “That it would be used for good, not evil?”
She grinned. “Exactly. But Lin…” She linked her arm with Lindsay’s and led her toward the ballroom doors. “I developed the algorithm and the data collection protocols to prove it could be done. But the field study? I did that for you.”
“Me? But I never asked you for that.”
“I know, but please, please, please let me add you to the user group. There are enough men in the matrix now that I know I could find you someone better than—”
Lindsay pulled away and wrapped her arms across her stomach. “Please, Charlie. I know you mean well, but I’m not ready.”
“Lin—”
“No.” She lifted her chin. “It must be nearly time for Audrey to toss the bouquet. She’ll miss you if you’re not there.”
Despite the determined set to Lindsay’s jaw, Charlie knew she’d rather chew broken glass than stay in the ballroom for one more minute. After all, this ought to have been her wedding day, too, if her ex-fiancé hadn’t been such an idiotic jerk.
“Lin, she’s a Stage Four at the tail end of her wedding reception. The only person she really sees right now is her husband. It’s safe to leave. I promise.”
“Really?” Lindsay bit her lip, the slight indentations proving it wasn’t the first time today she’d done it, despite her always-perfect lipstick. “If you’re sure…”
Gideon glided up to them, smoothing his dark bangs off his forehead. “Darling, depend on it. As long as Charles can reduce people to data points, she is always revoltingly right.” He kissed Lindsay’s temple. “I’ll meet you outside in a jiffy. I must collect one last set of digits.”
