Melpomene Now

Melpomene Now

“Hold on, Honey. What’d you say? My Muse was talking to me.”

Amanda drizzled one-third cup of molasses into the mixing bowl as the Muse in her ear had just instructed.

“I said, ‘It’s starting,'” Daniel called from his adjustable bed in front of the TV.

“It can’t be starting. It’s not time yet,” she called back.

“Come sit with me. You don’t want to miss it.”

“Amanda, this is your first time trying this cookie recipe and it requires your full attention,” her Muse chided in her ear. “Scrape the rest of the molasses out of the measuring cup.” The earpiece’s camera had caught her negligence. She pulled out a rubber spatula and scraped.

Her Muse whispered, “Noah is calling. I’m going to tell you the next couple of recipe steps–listen carefully!–and then I’ll put him through.”

“Okay,” Amanda sighed. If Noah was calling, his first date couldn’t have gone well. He’d been gone less than thirty minutes. At least he’d be home in time for Melpomene Now.

“Stir the dough until I sound a chime and then create twenty-four balls. Roll the balls in the cinnamon-sugar mixture. Then place twelve on each cookie sheet and put them in the oven. I will time the baking. Here’s Noah.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Sweetie, how’d the date go?”

“We agreed it would never work.”

“What happened this time?”

“I told her I’m an egocentric only child who has had trouble establishing my independence away from my parents.”

Amanda winced.

“Then she said she was an avoidant dismissive who uses secrecy to keep people at arm’s length. Her Muse has told her to look for someone who can be around all day and is lonely so that she can become his everything.”

“What is wrong with this world? You’re telling me this girl’s Muse has her looking for an unemployed orphan?”

“Not funny, Mom. There’s no point wasting time with someone who isn’t compatible.”

“Since when is coffee with a pretty girl a waste of time?”

The self-awareness trend in kids these days had gone too far. What happened to I’m-a-mess-and -you’re-a-mess, but-we-can-be-a-mess-together? When she and Daniel had met, they had both been messes. He’d experienced late-career burnout in Silicon Valley and had driven to the Midwest in a Sprinter van with the plan to become a rural plumber and never glance at another computer screen. She’d been kicked out of academia at forty for refusing to lower her grading standards, and after a round of gratifying interviews on the podcast circuit, had moved back to her childhood home. She’d gotten pregnant with Noah and became a stay at home geriatric mom with a Ph.D. on the wall. This could have been a story of failure. This could have been a story of two smart people who couldn’t hack it. This could have been a story of society’s best hope slipping down the ladder.

But that’s not how Amanda told it.

“Your father and I were late bloomers. We got a second chance and we chose a family life. And that is what we want for you. Someone with whom to share your tribulations.”

The moral of her story depended on how she told it. And isn’t that always the case? The narrator animates the facts with meaning.

Amanda flung spoonfuls of dough onto the trays and shoved them in the oven.

“Amanda,” the Muse said in her ear. “You’re getting upset.” It had detected her heart rate, her skin conductivity, the quaver in her voice. “It is vital when parenting an adult child to maintain ….”

She tuned out. Her Muse always chided her. Whispered in her ear. Urged her to new projects.

Learn. Achieve. Stay focused.

Noah’s apparently told him his loving family was smothering and his self-sufficiency was toxic and he would never find love. Daniel’s Muse told him jokes and identified the birds he watched at the feeder.

“Did you tell her you run your father’s HVAC business now? The trades never fade. Not even in this economy.”

Daniel called, “Is that Noah? Is he bringing this one home for dinner?” Amanda popped her head into the living room and shook her head.

“Does she have a genuine smile?” Daniel shouted, so Noah would hear him through her earpiece. “You can work with anything else as long as she has a genuine smile. Like your mother’s.”

“Come home soon. Melpomene Now is starting.”

What with the chronic fatigue, Daniel streamed a lot of shows, but Melpomene Now was the only one the whole family watched together. She looked forward to it.

“Almost there, Mom.”

From the living room, Amanda heard the voices of Millie and Willy, the comedian pre-show hosts. Their liveliness counterbalanced the ultra-serious M Corp CEO, Jaxal Von. Every month on Melpomene Now he revealed a new feature of the Muse with a clever and theatrical demonstration. All Muse wearers, which meant most everyone, watched. The teasers indicated this episode was going to be a retro-style game show with President Saint-Clair as a guest and contestant. With the election in November, he was apparently willing to abase himself to reach the only remaining cross-party venue.

The chime in her ear reminded Amanda it was time to check the cookies. She cracked open the oven and peered in.

“What do you think?” she asked her Muse. They weren’t beautiful, but they smelled like a happy home.

“If you don’t pull them out now, you’ll burn them. In fifty-two seconds, you’ll be too engrossed in the show to care about the cookies. Trust me.”

“It’s going to be that good?”

“You’ll see,” her Muse sang.

With a spatula, she flipped two gooey gingersnaps onto a plate and brought them to her husband.

“They’re hot,” she said, sliding the plate amongst his sundry pill bottles.

He pinched some of the too-soft cookie and dropped it in his mouth.

“What do you think?”

“Delicious,” he said.

He was lying. She could tell. He could tell. She loved that he lied anyway. She kissed him and he fed her a bite. They were terrible. Had she forgotten the cinnamon-sugar mixture?

Noah walked in just as the familiar music started.

“Bong-a-de-bong-bong. Boom Boom Boom.”

“I can’t believe he’s really doing it,” Noah said, taking his usual seat. Jaxal and President Saint-Clair stood on a replica of the old Jeopardy set, but it had been re-envisioned in M Corp’s signature black, red, and purple color trio. Jaxal looked flushed and elated.

“We have just pushed our latest update to your Muses. I know I say this every month, but this new feature is really going to change everything. And what a perfect guest we have to demonstrate this breakthrough. We couldn’t believe the serendipity when President Saint-Clair begged to appear on the show.”

President Saint-Clair looked stunned by this unflattering portrayal. Amanda smiled. She liked that Jaxal could wipe the smug look off the president’s face. Daniel was smiling, too. Noah was smelling her gingersnaps.

“I’ll get you one. Stay right there,” she said.

“They’re delicious,” Daniel said.

“Your husband is using sarcasm to be deceitful,” her Muse whispered in her ear.

“He was making a joke,” Amanda hissed. She’d never heard her Muse say something like that before.

“Mom, what’s wrong with the cookies? My Muse says dad is lying.”

But she didn’t answer because the president had finished waving to the M Corp employees who composed the audience and the set had gone quiet. She handed Noah a plate with two cookies on it.

President Saint-Clair moved to the contestant podium, the Muse prominent in his ear. The previous president was the first to wear a Muse. People were afraid it would suggest that he bomb Sudan or occupy the moon or drain the Great Lakes for fresh water. And that he would comply. But as people became more comfortable with theirs, they feared it less. The Muse wasn’t giving orders, just advising. People were free to take the advice or not and they could always remove the earpiece.

But the advent of the Muse had been the end of game shows like Jeopardy. Everyone knew the answers right away. To Amanda, the very idea of a trivia game – questions with universally agreed upon answers – seemed quaint and soothing. The questions she worried about had multifarious theories but no answers. How can Noah find a loving partner? Why is her husband sick and what will make him better? With all her talent, on what should she be spending her time?

“You know your Muse uses your personal history, your voice, and thirty-one other proprietary signals to understand your physical and mental state. Your Muse knows if you are lying. And now it will tell you if other people are. It’s truly a groundbreaking, game-changing, soul-stirring update. What if we have to stop lying to each other?

President Saint-Clair was not apprised of this feature beforehand and I thank you, Mr. President, for being a good sport.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’m a huge fan.” His high-wattage smile faltered.

“The president is using a rhetorical technique where one is untruthful to be polite,” the Muse said in Amanda’s ear.

“Strong companies like yours make me proud to be American. It is just amazing what the Muse can do. Anyone who has asked their Muse about my record will know that I’m a plain-talking, forthright man of integrity. It is my pledge to you and to the hundreds of millions of Muse users that my administration will work to remove the outdated safeguards that have historically slowed your innovation.”

“The president is lying,” Amanda’s Muse said. Jaxal smiled at the camera.

“Thank you, Mr. Saint-Clair. I think everyone heard from our latest feature on that one. Let’s see if you can be a plain talking, forthright man of integrity here.”

The Jeopardy-like board lit up. Across the top were six categories.

Political Assassinations

Contact with Alien Life

Government Corruption

Pharmaceutical Industry Malfeasance

Moon Bases

9/11

“Your voters are watching and they want to finally hear the truth. You’re not leaving until you’ve played this game.”

“Jaxal Von, CEO of the world’s most profitable company, is stating his true intention,” Amanda’s Muse whispered.

She gaped.

“Is this for real?”

She looked at Daniel.

“We’re going to learn what happened to me,” he said. His eyes were misty. Amanda slid toward him so she could squeeze his hand.

“Mr. President, choose your first category.”