The Love Machine

The ultimate love match?

“It was the only thing I had to work with,” I explained. There was more than a hint of shame mixed with desperation in my words. “If the advancement in A.I. hadn’t exploded like it has, it would still be an untested theory.”

Jamail crossed his legs while adjusting his tie. The suit he wore probably cost more than my entire project. “Shoe me,” he said, straightening his cuffs. The flash of his diamond cufflinks hurt my eyes.

“Lights,” I commanded. The smart lights shut off leaving us in total darkness. “I needed something simple and without cost. The Vanishing Lady 1896 short black and white film met my needs.”

My fingers trembled at the old fashioned projector’s knobs as I slid the film reel on. The antique need a steady hand to rotate the reel at speed. Slow motion might burn the film. Too much speed turn time into such high speed nothing would happen at all. I’d grown accustomed to the knack of getting it just right but the moment was testing my will. “I love her. You must tell me if she is real or am I going mad?”

Jamail made impatient ‘hurry up’ motions as he leaned forward. A flash of interest ignited within his eyes. “You’ve talked enough. I’ve paid your price for admission. Show me the results.”

Black and white movies offer a more stark focus to the eyes that draw one into the scene. Color and background music added on in later years adds distraction and a feeling of ‘watching’ instead of being there.

The subtle unconscious nuances offered in the Vanishing Lady are simple and pure. Young. Lovely. Composed. Staring right at you. Eyes meeting your eyes.

The magician turns a blanket into a shield opening up between you and her. A.I. checks your heart rate, heat index, iris level, and a multitude of other parameters.

When the blanket is waved away from the chair, the Vanishing Lady stands as close as your next breath next to you instead of on the empty chair.

Just when I move to embrace her, our eyes still meeting together as one, the magician drapes the blanket in front of the chair, sweeps it away, and the Vanishing Lady returns to her place, everything composed by those dark emotion filled eyes.

The answer of course, was to stop the projector half way through the reel. My Vanishing Lady never returns to her long ago magical moment. She is here. Meet Ellie. I bowed as I retrieved Ellie’s hand and presented her to Jamail. “You are the A.I. architect that made this possible. Is she a ghost or is she real? Am I the only one who can see her?”

‘She’s a potential fortune,” Jamail stood up “Think of it. Instead of an A.I. robotic female programming herself to meet your needs, this tender creature is created out of your own subconscious and conscious most heartfelt desire. But more, you’ve captured and transported the very soul of that Vanishing Lady and in your first soul kiss made her your own.”


Jamail turned to the antique projector and motioned for me to run the last half of the reel. My Vanishing Lady raised a hand to her heart in fear. “Be not afraid,” Jamail’s sincere smile bade me finish the test.

At the end of the less than two minute movie when the Vanishing Lady should reappear, there was nothing at all sitting on the chair. Had the movie been edited somehow by A.I. or was she really transported here?

The feel of her against me felt so real I no longer cared.

Jamail rubbed his hands together. “There are copies of the Vanishing Lady on Youtube. I can create a never ending stream and sell my process to the highest bidders. You’ve made my fortune.”

Ellie leaned her head against my chest as she embraced me. “I’ll never have to go back, will I, dear heart, into the endless disappearing act?”