This fantasy story is an experiment. It started with the image of a woman having coffee with a man and unable to make eye contact with him because she can't take her eye off his hand. I didn't know where to go with it. I brainstormed the idea by writing the first draft with a fiction-oriented AI program called Sudowrite. As I polished it up, I turned to Chat GPT for the details I used in some of the descriptions. It'll only take you about five minutes to read. Let me know what you think.
Except for two small, oddly similar birthmarks near his ring finger, there was nothing remarkable about the back of Hayden’s left hand. The skin was normal and pale. The nails, trim and clean. He wore no rings.
Yet, against all logic, Aliya could not stop looking at it.
Wrapped around the paper coffee cup on the table, the hand seemed to emit an unsettling energy. Maybe she was imagining, but the half-covered Starbucks logo seemed to glow.
“Finally, we meet,” Hayden said.
“Yes,” Aliya said. She pulled her eyes to where they belonged: Hayden’s unexpectedly handsome face. His short brown hair was neatly combed to the side. His warm gray eyes appeared sedate and calm. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Indeed she was. Aliya had been out of work for three months. With the economy contracting, companies had little need for recruiters. Even experienced, well-connected tech recruiters like Aliya.
She had depleted her savings and maxed out her credit cards. The rent was due.
Hayden Vivant was new in town, the CEO of a startup so secret, even the rumor mill hadn’t heard a peep. The opportunity to join his company with the steady paycheck of an in-house headhunter couldn’t have come at a better time.
But for some inexplicable reason, eye contact—a vital skill for tech recruiters—was difficult, no, impossible with this man.
Aliya could tune out the mid-morning Starbucks cacophony. No hiss of the espresso machine, tapping of laptops, giggling of college girls, or Parker Millsap falsetto emanating from the speakers could distract her. But the irresistible pull of Hayden’s hand was more than she could handle.
Hayden lifted the coffee cup to his lips. “Odd to be meeting about a secret startup in such a public place,” Aliya said. Not the smartest thing to say, but it was all she could think of during the few seconds that Hayden sipped coffee. The few seconds of easier eye contact.
“Not really.” Hayden brought his coffee cup and hand back to the table. “I’m new to this town, and nobody knows me. But you’re a well-known headhunter. If candidates see us together in a Starbucks, word will get out that you know somebody who’s looking for people, and you’ll get calls.”
Oh, no. At some point during Hayden’s explanation, Aliya didn’t know when, her eyes drifted back to his hand. She again lifted her chin to make eye contact.
“Had I known that was your intention,” Aliya said, “I would have suggested a busier, better-located Starbucks. This neighborhood isn’t exactly tech central.”
Hayden smiled. “I’m not necessarily looking for tech people.”
“So why did you call me? I’m a tech recruiter.”
“We have unusual needs. If you can recruit for tech, you can recruit for us.”
“How so?”
“We need someone who knows how to network, pinpoint suitable candidates and meet discreetly. If you can work that way with engineers and executives, you can work with the kinds of people we’re looking for.”
Again, Aliya found herself looking at Hayden’s hand. She knew this body language suggested a lack of interest, but she had no control.
“And what kinds of people are that?” she said.
“Look around this store,” he said.
Aliya glanced left, right, and back. Except for the giddy college girls, most patrons looked like any strip-mall Starbucks regulars. People of many ages and genders busying themselves with laptops, iPads, and scrunched-up magazines. A quintet of older people near the window squabbling over nothing intelligible.
Her eyes crept back to Hayden’s hand. “What kinds of positions would you want me to fill?” Aliya said. Another wrong thing to say. Hayden would only answer that with a signed non-disclosure agreement. But her eye contact issue would cost her the job anyway. There was nothing to lose. “What skills will you need? How much experience and education? What type of culture are you looking to build?”
She asked the questions while staring at Hayden’s hand. The battle for eye contact lost, Aliya brought her own hands down on the table, one timorously clasping the other. Her chai latte remained untouched.
“The first person we need,” Hayden said, “is a headhunter who won’t have a public meltdown over something so innocuous as my left hand.”
Aliya recoiled.
“It’s okay,” Hayden said, taking his hand off the table. “You’ve done better than most. Some scream. Some cry. Once, a 260-pound boxer broke out in tears and ran. All because he couldn’t stop looking at my hand.”
Hayden wiggled his fingers near his face. His warm, gray eyes now appeared hot and blue. The neatly combed hair now came to spikey points. All inexplicably beautiful, but not enough to explain her involuntary gape.
“I thought by now you would have pretended to receive an emergency text and run out,” Hayden said. “Why didn’t you?”
Aliya had no answer. She had ended many unproductive meetings that way. But today, that possibility hadn’t occurred to her. “I need the job,” she said.
“Is that the only reason?”
“No.”
“Are you afraid?”
“No.”
“Angry?”
“No.”
“Look at my hand,” Hayden said. “Look closely.”
Now, having received permission to look, the hand induced an inexplicable but tranquil sensation. The feeling grew more serene as glimmers of a mesmerizing blue light emanated from the pores.
“Do you see the energy?” Hayden said.
“Yes.”
“Does it make you nervous?”
“Not really,”
“Sad.” “A little.”
“That will pass. What are you feeling?”
Aliya didn’t answer. There were no words for the unusual, sensual fascination.
Hayden moved his hand back to the table. “Place your hand on mine,” he said.
Touch the hand? The blue light exuded a warm, intense geniality, a desire for contact. But a glint of self-doubt crept in. Aliya didn’t know if she was worthy.
“It’s okay,” Hayden said. “Pretend we spent the night falling in love and are now sharing a cup of coffee. Put your hand on top of mine.”
Tentatively, Aliya brought her hand down. A shock hit her where her palm connected with the twin birthmarks. It was like a bolt of electricity, but it didn’t repel. It attracted. Her body filled with millions of little charges, and her world seemed to shimmer. A soothing vibrational hum embraced her soul.
Aliya no longer heard the giggling college girls or smelled the fresh-brewed coffee. The espresso machine could explode, and she wouldn’t move.
Hayden’s whisper penetrated the altered reality. “There are legends and myths about my kind. The most popular are also most detached from reality.”
Aliya nodded. Her pulse and breathing mirrored the cascading energy in her body.
“We are not so-called vampires. Undead is a higher plane of existence, not lower. We don’t sleep in coffins, hate garlic, or turn into bats. And we certainly don’t bite necks. We expand our ranks by placing our hands on each other’s. As in a two-handed handshake or lovers in a café.”
Aliya’s reflexes wanted to pull her hand back. Yet she made no effort. Her hand had attached itself to Hayden’s, and she liked it. Blue light now cascaded from her pores, too. It got bluer as her energies commingled with Hayden’s.
“You and I are becoming one,” Hayden said. “Two bodies, one soul. There are many, many more like me. You will be one with us all. One consciousness sharing many lives, bodies, and dreams.”
The swirling blue light grew in intensity, held back by an invisible membrane. Hayden brought his other hand down on top of Aliya’s. A flash of blue light engulfed her, Hayden, and their table.
When it dissipated, there was no typing, no rustle of magazine pages, and no giggling or squabbling in the store. The espresso maker was silent. Parker Millsap had given way to a hypnotic George Harrison guitar riff.
Everyone stared at her and Hayden, some with prolonged gasps.
“My sweet Lord,” sang Harrison from the speakers. “My Lord.”
“I think you got us more attention than you wanted,” Aliya suggested.
“They saw something, but they don’t know what. And they’re not going to.”
Hayden stood up and smiled to everyone in the shop. He flashed his open left hand to show nothing inside it. Then he pulled a quarter from the air.
Hayden let the quarter levitate and covered it with a handkerchief. When he pulled the handkerchief away, the quarter had become a top hat.
Hayden reached into the hat and retrieved a bouquet of roses. He tossed the hat into the air, where it disappeared. Then, with a flourish and a bow, Hayden pivoted and handed the flowers to Aliya.
The customers and baristas clapped.
“Simple tricks you can learn in a magic school,” Hayden whispered as he sat down. “Let the people here think the blue flash of your transition was an illusion.”
Accepting the flowers, Aliya realized she had experienced Hayden’s magic show from two places. A physical presence in the store and a spiritual body above the universe.
She lay the flowers down on the table and noticed two small, oddly similar birthmarks had formed near the ring finger on her left hand. Millions of sparks coursed through her soul with a familiar, new energy. She looked Hayden in the eye and smiled.
Hayden smiled back. “We’re looking for a recruiter,” he said.
Yet, against all logic, Aliya could not stop looking at it.
Wrapped around the paper coffee cup on the table, the hand seemed to emit an unsettling energy. Maybe she was imagining, but the half-covered Starbucks logo seemed to glow.
“Finally, we meet,” Hayden said.
“Yes,” Aliya said. She pulled her eyes to where they belonged: Hayden’s unexpectedly handsome face. His short brown hair was neatly combed to the side. His warm gray eyes appeared sedate and calm. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Indeed she was. Aliya had been out of work for three months. With the economy contracting, companies had little need for recruiters. Even experienced, well-connected tech recruiters like Aliya.
She had depleted her savings and maxed out her credit cards. The rent was due.
Hayden Vivant was new in town, the CEO of a startup so secret, even the rumor mill hadn’t heard a peep. The opportunity to join his company with the steady paycheck of an in-house headhunter couldn’t have come at a better time.
But for some inexplicable reason, eye contact—a vital skill for tech recruiters—was difficult, no, impossible with this man.
Aliya could tune out the mid-morning Starbucks cacophony. No hiss of the espresso machine, tapping of laptops, giggling of college girls, or Parker Millsap falsetto emanating from the speakers could distract her. But the irresistible pull of Hayden’s hand was more than she could handle.
Hayden lifted the coffee cup to his lips. “Odd to be meeting about a secret startup in such a public place,” Aliya said. Not the smartest thing to say, but it was all she could think of during the few seconds that Hayden sipped coffee. The few seconds of easier eye contact.
“Not really.” Hayden brought his coffee cup and hand back to the table. “I’m new to this town, and nobody knows me. But you’re a well-known headhunter. If candidates see us together in a Starbucks, word will get out that you know somebody who’s looking for people, and you’ll get calls.”
Oh, no. At some point during Hayden’s explanation, Aliya didn’t know when, her eyes drifted back to his hand. She again lifted her chin to make eye contact.
“Had I known that was your intention,” Aliya said, “I would have suggested a busier, better-located Starbucks. This neighborhood isn’t exactly tech central.”
Hayden smiled. “I’m not necessarily looking for tech people.”
“So why did you call me? I’m a tech recruiter.”
“We have unusual needs. If you can recruit for tech, you can recruit for us.”
“How so?”
“We need someone who knows how to network, pinpoint suitable candidates and meet discreetly. If you can work that way with engineers and executives, you can work with the kinds of people we’re looking for.”
Again, Aliya found herself looking at Hayden’s hand. She knew this body language suggested a lack of interest, but she had no control.
“And what kinds of people are that?” she said.
“Look around this store,” he said.
Aliya glanced left, right, and back. Except for the giddy college girls, most patrons looked like any strip-mall Starbucks regulars. People of many ages and genders busying themselves with laptops, iPads, and scrunched-up magazines. A quintet of older people near the window squabbling over nothing intelligible.
Her eyes crept back to Hayden’s hand. “What kinds of positions would you want me to fill?” Aliya said. Another wrong thing to say. Hayden would only answer that with a signed non-disclosure agreement. But her eye contact issue would cost her the job anyway. There was nothing to lose. “What skills will you need? How much experience and education? What type of culture are you looking to build?”
She asked the questions while staring at Hayden’s hand. The battle for eye contact lost, Aliya brought her own hands down on the table, one timorously clasping the other. Her chai latte remained untouched.
“The first person we need,” Hayden said, “is a headhunter who won’t have a public meltdown over something so innocuous as my left hand.”
Aliya recoiled.
“It’s okay,” Hayden said, taking his hand off the table. “You’ve done better than most. Some scream. Some cry. Once, a 260-pound boxer broke out in tears and ran. All because he couldn’t stop looking at my hand.”
Hayden wiggled his fingers near his face. His warm, gray eyes now appeared hot and blue. The neatly combed hair now came to spikey points. All inexplicably beautiful, but not enough to explain her involuntary gape.
“I thought by now you would have pretended to receive an emergency text and run out,” Hayden said. “Why didn’t you?”
Aliya had no answer. She had ended many unproductive meetings that way. But today, that possibility hadn’t occurred to her. “I need the job,” she said.
“Is that the only reason?”
“No.”
“Are you afraid?”
“No.”
“Angry?”
“No.”
“Look at my hand,” Hayden said. “Look closely.”
Now, having received permission to look, the hand induced an inexplicable but tranquil sensation. The feeling grew more serene as glimmers of a mesmerizing blue light emanated from the pores.
“Do you see the energy?” Hayden said.
“Yes.”
“Does it make you nervous?”
“Not really,”
“Sad.” “A little.”
“That will pass. What are you feeling?”
Aliya didn’t answer. There were no words for the unusual, sensual fascination.
Hayden moved his hand back to the table. “Place your hand on mine,” he said.
Touch the hand? The blue light exuded a warm, intense geniality, a desire for contact. But a glint of self-doubt crept in. Aliya didn’t know if she was worthy.
“It’s okay,” Hayden said. “Pretend we spent the night falling in love and are now sharing a cup of coffee. Put your hand on top of mine.”
Tentatively, Aliya brought her hand down. A shock hit her where her palm connected with the twin birthmarks. It was like a bolt of electricity, but it didn’t repel. It attracted. Her body filled with millions of little charges, and her world seemed to shimmer. A soothing vibrational hum embraced her soul.
Aliya no longer heard the giggling college girls or smelled the fresh-brewed coffee. The espresso machine could explode, and she wouldn’t move.
Hayden’s whisper penetrated the altered reality. “There are legends and myths about my kind. The most popular are also most detached from reality.”
Aliya nodded. Her pulse and breathing mirrored the cascading energy in her body.
“We are not so-called vampires. Undead is a higher plane of existence, not lower. We don’t sleep in coffins, hate garlic, or turn into bats. And we certainly don’t bite necks. We expand our ranks by placing our hands on each other’s. As in a two-handed handshake or lovers in a café.”
Aliya’s reflexes wanted to pull her hand back. Yet she made no effort. Her hand had attached itself to Hayden’s, and she liked it. Blue light now cascaded from her pores, too. It got bluer as her energies commingled with Hayden’s.
“You and I are becoming one,” Hayden said. “Two bodies, one soul. There are many, many more like me. You will be one with us all. One consciousness sharing many lives, bodies, and dreams.”
The swirling blue light grew in intensity, held back by an invisible membrane. Hayden brought his other hand down on top of Aliya’s. A flash of blue light engulfed her, Hayden, and their table.
When it dissipated, there was no typing, no rustle of magazine pages, and no giggling or squabbling in the store. The espresso maker was silent. Parker Millsap had given way to a hypnotic George Harrison guitar riff.
Everyone stared at her and Hayden, some with prolonged gasps.
“My sweet Lord,” sang Harrison from the speakers. “My Lord.”
“I think you got us more attention than you wanted,” Aliya suggested.
“They saw something, but they don’t know what. And they’re not going to.”
Hayden stood up and smiled to everyone in the shop. He flashed his open left hand to show nothing inside it. Then he pulled a quarter from the air.
Hayden let the quarter levitate and covered it with a handkerchief. When he pulled the handkerchief away, the quarter had become a top hat.
Hayden reached into the hat and retrieved a bouquet of roses. He tossed the hat into the air, where it disappeared. Then, with a flourish and a bow, Hayden pivoted and handed the flowers to Aliya.
The customers and baristas clapped.
“Simple tricks you can learn in a magic school,” Hayden whispered as he sat down. “Let the people here think the blue flash of your transition was an illusion.”
Accepting the flowers, Aliya realized she had experienced Hayden’s magic show from two places. A physical presence in the store and a spiritual body above the universe.
She lay the flowers down on the table and noticed two small, oddly similar birthmarks had formed near the ring finger on her left hand. Millions of sparks coursed through her soul with a familiar, new energy. She looked Hayden in the eye and smiled.
Hayden smiled back. “We’re looking for a recruiter,” he said.
Copywriter 2023, Mark Spector.
I don't if you could tell while reading this where Mark Spector stopped writing and the AI picked up, but I'll give you a hint. Of the 10,000 or so words that Sudowrite and Chat GPT generated for this story, only about 300 made it into the final copy. And those words had to be refined to make the story work the way I felt it should. I use AI as a tool, not a solution.
I don't if you could tell while reading this where Mark Spector stopped writing and the AI picked up, but I'll give you a hint. Of the 10,000 or so words that Sudowrite and Chat GPT generated for this story, only about 300 made it into the final copy. And those words had to be refined to make the story work the way I felt it should. I use AI as a tool, not a solution.