My mouth dropped open. “Wait. Like the soul families thing?”
He laughed. “Honestly? Sorta. There are groups that look like—oh, you know those white dandelions we used to see on the hill behind the elementary school?”
“The wishing flowers?” My mind whirled. “Of course I do. But how...?”
“Like how AI generated that ocean art project? My program isn’t AI, but it uses information and data points in order to create something productive.” He tapped a few keys. “And what have we done for the last generation? We’ve fed it all the boring details of our lives. We told it what we look like when we’re getting ready in the morning, we post our likes and dislikes, we curate playlists of music that appeals to us, we read articles on topics that interest us. If you have a phone, it knows your location at all times. It knows your vaccine beliefs, how you’ll vote, your stance on abortion and gun rights, whether you want or don’t want kids, and if you do, if you’ll enroll them in private or public school. The internet’s been able to read us like a book for a while, and now it can write us like one. Not as good as human creators, of course, but faster.”
“You’re right,” I said, thinking of all the drafts of content I had. Of the way that my numbers had climbed lately, and the very purposeful way in which I did and did not mentally assign value to it.
“Anyway, the current intent of this is to offer people others they may want to connect with beyond their soulmates. If your childhood best bud has a soulmate who you might never have chosen to spend time with...” Flush crept across his cheeks. “You might give a hang with him a second chance. Or a third. And maybe even a fourth.”
“For the sake of friendship?” I dug into my cuticle, then tried to force my fingers to relax.
“You got it. This way, as the world continues to age, we can build up the community ties that are close to us, focus on the people who we may be more likely to run into. Obviously, it’s not perfect. And I’m not saying that you should limit yourself to the people in your own little bunch. But it is kind of cool to think about all these little orbits, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back in the chair. “How many people are you working with so far?”
He tried to hide how pleased he was. “Upwards of sixty thousand.”
“Sixtythousand!” I rocked forward.
“Yeah. When the museum posted about it, people really responded and shared.”
He zoomed in and out, showing me the overarching map view, drilling down to personal ones. I could see why he’d been so wrapped up in this. There were loads of data, and the patterns that emerged were shaded in terms of strength, like a Jackson Pollack painting.
“This is really something, Caleb. You could make a fortune with this.”
“Nope,” he replied instantly. “It’ll be free access, forever.”
“Sure. But ad sponsorships—”
“Uh-uh,” he said. Shame licked my face. “I want no organization to have this. Beyond the museum, I guess. I’d like it to stay as unbiased as it can.”
I nudged his hand. “Okay. What are you going to do with it, then?”
“Oh, that’s the best part,” he said. “I think what you mean is: WhathaveI done with it?”
“Come again?”
“Follow me.”
For the second time that night, I did.
Thirty-Eight
We took the stairs to the fourth floor, passing the fossilized dinosaurs, and eventually arrived at a dark-painted door. Caleb lifted his ID badge to a sensor. “Wow, heavy-duty is right,” I murmured.
We plunged into darkness. My inhale was sharp.
Caleb fumbled for my hand. “It’s coming.”
I couldn’t help it: I squeezed his. “Whatisthis?” I breathed.
The room was tunnel-shaped. Above us were constellations. Some of them were ropy, bright, others were finer, like thread or twine.
“The confirmed connections,” Caleb said, pointing at one of the brighter ones. “You get the first look. The exhibit opens tomorrow morning. I’ve never been more nervous in my life.”
“Wow.” I slowed my steps. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Iwanted the answer to bebecause this was a surprise, orbecause I wanted it to be you, but a big part of me worried it was something larger. Because I had been so wrapped up in myself.
