by KJ Hannah Greenberg
Husband: So, Ill attribute your short-temperedness to shared genetics.
Wife: Were married, not biochemically related.
Husband: After this many decades, theres been genetic drift.
Wife: Arctic drift?
Husband: Certainly strong currents of air have made their impact.
Wife: We have no heir, if thats what you mean, no one to whom to bequeath our genes.
Husband: Hence my point.
Wife: Ive long admired it.
Husband: Our genes, mdear, instead, passed to each other.
Wife: Ya dont say. Did you know that the Japanese make statues to memorialize their miscarried fetuses?
Husband: We dont; thats idolatry. As I was saying ...
Wife: Comfort isnt just a stiff drink.
Husband: And all stiffness is not goodness. Humanity has to get used to living among Komodo dragons.
Wife: Among carnivores of the worst kind? Do you realize that I have no blanket box? The hope chest I relied on was
Husband: Sciences trumps dreams! Laboratories can eliminate nightmares. Forget the past. Lets focus on our current relatedness and the strength it generates.
Wife: Even if my most thought-provoking URLs have suddenly kicked out?
Wife: Even if we will go to our graves without descendants?
Husband: We cant tweak nature. Weve spent a fortune in ultimately useless medical interventions. Ill never divorce you just to have offspring. What do you mean, kicked out?
Wife: Honey, its you who shoots blanks. I think your sloppy twiddling with my code messed up my Facebook page. Do I have to forgive you?
Wife: Expectations are a bowl of eels. I wanted a baby. I never got one. I wanted working software. Several of my social media pages simultaneously crashed.
Husband: I still love you. Thats worth more than the tastiest of dead oceanic predators. Id even jump from salt water to fresh water for you. Besides, you get what you pay for with IT help. Look, Ill reset your software and throw in some nookie. As always, no charge. Did you consider that we might be associated through parthenogenesis?
Wife: Doubtful. Theres nothing asexual about you. Do you really think you can fix it this time? Can you fix it quickly? Dont you have to have administrative keys or whatever theyre called to tamper with public sites? All things being equal, I might be persuaded to engage in some afternoon delight. I just wish you would restore my pages.
Husband: Our genders are not immaterial!
Wife: Youre right as always. Top or bottom or in the shower? How did you do that? Is that legal?
Husband: So you agree that our closeness has generated progeny of the heart? An hour, max, and all will be well in your electronic world.
Wife: Whatever you say, Dear.
Husband: You, Woman, are a wonderful, empowered synthesis of your DNA and mine.
Wife: Yada, yada. Honeyed words and embraces? Not yet. If you cant entirely fix my pages, Ill still have to hire someone. If I have to hire someone, I cant spend alone time with you.
Husband: Ill fix them. Ill fix them. Stop fretting. Stop worrying, too, over children who will never be.
Wife: Excuse me! Menopause might be here to stay, but theres nothing in your biological code that should make you fall asleep early most nights.
Husband: Yup. Theres the proof - genetic drift has overtaken us. I emulate you, the sweetums who would rather wrap her arms around her pillow than around me.
Wife: Snarky amoeba.
Husband: Mitosis has nothing to do with us. It might, though, be an insight into your software glitches.
Wife: Scientists think Acanthamoeba employ meiosis. What do you mean insight?
Husband: AI evolves. Deuces! This stuffs tricky. Maybe I should ask one of the guys at work to help me debug it. More importantly, I was top last time. Would you like me to rent a private bungalow and a secluded pool? I cant stop thinking about cytoplasmic extensions.
Wife: Arc on back. AI doesnt evolve. Youve been reading too much speculative fiction. Yours, at least, isnt a false foot. Social experimental randomness! Cant you just restore function to my media and be done with it? If we dont rent a bungalow and pool, we could go out for steak.
Husband: Animal protein makes you nauseous.
Wife: but it energizes you.
Husband: You could order avocado toast and I could order something that has ceased to breathe.
Wife: Thats not exactly language thats conducive to our comingling.
Husband: Those are your words, recycled. You harangue me with them every time I want dead cow or stifled chicken. Im not surprised Im parroting you. I told you were experiencing genetic drift.
Wife: Maybe. Omelets and then cuddles? Wow! That looks better already. You should give up corporate work and freelance as a hacker.
Husband: How would we fuel your online subscriptions? How would we buy eggs for omelets or pay mortgage or
Wife: Enough! Are you ever going to acknowledge my losses?
Husband: Wanna buy a baby?
Wife: Really? I mean no! Thatd be either criminal or very, very expensive. Even you dont earn enough to cover those fees.
Husband: Then no. While Ive got these files open, want me to fix your source code?
Wife: Literally or figuratively, the source code, that is?
Husband: I thought you knew me - both, of course.
Wife: Lets back up this machine beforehand. Maybe tofu instead of omelets? Its weird for me to eat eggs after Ive stopped producing them. Did you know I felt that way?
Husband: PB & J works, too.
Wife: Hard to get out of the sheets.
Husband: But delicious on sourdough. Sheets? Im confused. Priorities, lady, priorities. Read em off one at a time. Sourdoughs in the freezer?
Wife: Were not fixing my source code?
Husband: Royal we?
Wife: Genetic drift.
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