Dreams made Reality

. two .

Several hours later, after much pizza and alcohol had been consumed by all and the celebration had moved from kitchen to living room, the conversation turned, as it always seemed to these days, to Tristan’s love life. Or more specifically, his lack of anything resembling a love life.

“So Trist,” Sasha gazed at the dark haired man over the rim of her beer can. “You’ve hit the big three oh. Time to start think about settling down, huh.” She smiled sweetly. “Got anyone on the radar?”

“No.” Tristan tossed a pizza crust at her. “I don’t. What about you, hmm? It’s not like you’re getting any younger. When are you gonna stop playing the field and tie the knot with some poor sucker?”

“Never.” Sasha told him matter-of-factly.

Bernard laughed;

“You’re such a whore Sasha.”

“I am not a whore!” Sasha picked up the pizza crust and lobbed it at Bernard’s head. “I just love men too much to settle for just one.”

“Pfft, whatever.” Bernard threw the crust back at her, then turned his sharp hazel eyes on Tristan. “Come on Trist. There’s gotta be someone you’re interested in. Some mysterious, handsome gent ready to sweep you off your feet.”

“Or even just some spunk up for a good lay.” Sasha picked up the crust, ready to throw it again, then thought better of it and ate it instead. “There is someone, isn’t there.” She asked with her mouth full. “Can I watch?”

“Pervert.” Tristan snorted and rolled his eyes. “No, there isn’t anyone. And if there was, no, you can’t watch.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

Both pairs of eyes lifted as Bernard rose from the floor, the look on his face clearly showing that he was on a mission.

“Trist, where’s your computer?”

“What?” Tristan frowned, his heat and alcohol fogged mind slow to catch up with the sudden change in subject.

“Computer. Where is it?”

“Ah ...” He frowned, then gestured vaguely to the doorway across the room. “In the office. What’re you up to?” Tristan called after Bernard as he disappeared into the darkened room.

“You’ll see!”

A few moments later Bernard returned with Tristan’s sleek, silver notebook computer in his hands. Sitting back down, he booted up the computer, refusing to answer any questions until the machine was up and running and connected to the internet.

“Present time!” Bernard grinned, typing in a web address, and Sasha clapped her hands gleefully.

Curious, Tristan shuffled over until he could see the computer screen. At first he couldn’t quite figure out what he was looking at. A slide show featuring photographs of impossibly beautiful people flickered across the screen, then the site opened to a classy looking menu page with the title ‘Dreams made Reality’ written in flowing script.

“What is this?” Brow furrowed slightly, Tristan leaned closer, studying the page. As he read the welcome message, his frown deepened, an expression of incredulity spreading across his face.

Welcome to Dreams made Reality,
where our creations are limited only by the power of your desires.
With the most advanced technology in artificial intelligence and
the world’s most celebrated stylists and plastic surgeons,
we are committed to working with you to make your dreams reality.

“What is this?” Tristan repeated, tearing his eyes away from the screen to look first at Bernard, then at Sasha and back again. “Tell me this isn’t one of those trashy --”

“It’s not trashy.” Sasha cut in smoothly. “’Dreams made Reality’ is the most sought after supplier of Artificial Companions in the world. Their products are so life-like --”

“Sex dolls.” Tristan made a frustrated noise. “Do you really think I’m that sad? That I need some walking, talking vibrator because I haven’t been laid in three years?”

“No, no of course not.” Sasha placed a tentative hand on Tristan’s shoulder and looked to Bernard for help. “We don’t think that at all.”

“It’s just that, well, you haven’t been yourself since the accident.” Concern in every line of his face, Bernard spoke up. “We’re worried about you Trist. I know losing Sebastian hurt you bad, but you can’t keep cutting yourself off from the rest of the world like this.”

“We thought that a Companion might help you open up a bit, to lose some of your fear of being intimate with someone --”

“Is that what you think?” Temper snapping completely, Tristan shook off Sasha’s hand and leaped to his feet. “I’m not afraid of intimacy. I haven’t dated since the accident because I don’t want to meet
anyone else! I loved Sebastian! I still love him. There’ll never be anyone else, and I don’t want anyone else!”

“Tristan --” Bernard tried to speak, but was cut off before he could voice the words.

“No, just ... Just go, okay?”

“Tristan, we didn’t mean to --”

“Get out!”

Sasha and Bernard rose slowly from the floor, exchanging worried glances. They’d expected Tristan to get upset, but where was this anger coming from? Perhaps it would have been better not to say anything at all. But they were genuinely concerned for their friend’s well being. He’d gotten over the depression that had plagued him in the months after the accident, but it was obvious he hadn’t gotten over the loss of his partner. It wasn’t healthy to live in the past like this.

Determined to try once more, Sasha spoke quickly as Tristan ushered her and Bernard to the door.

“Please Trist, just think about it. If you change your mind --”

“There’s nothing to think about --”

“ -- We set up an account for you on the site. The payment details are already sorted, so all you have to do is input your specifications and make the order.”

“Thanks for dinner. Bye.” Tristan closed the door firmly, shutting his friends and anything else they might have had to say out in the oppressive night air.


He leaned against the door for a long time, listening to first the sounds of retreating footsteps and murmured conversation, then the hushed, subdued sounds of night. Crickets chirped, a car rolled by, crunching loose gravel beneath its tyres, its engine a muted purr. Somewhere a few blocks away a dog was barking, and above that was the ever present hum of the air conditioner.

Tristan sighed deeply and closed his eyes, letting his head drop back to rest against the door. Had he over reacted? Probably. Deep down, he knew his friends were only acting out of concern for him. They thought he was going to end up a lonely, bitter, dried up husk of a man, and they were probably right. They only wanted to help. Problem was, Tristan didn’t want their help. And he sure as hell didn’t want their pity.

Three years was a long time. Long enough for the sharp pain of loss to fade to a dull ache. Long enough to pull the shattered pieces of his life back together, to give up the anti-depressant medication and be able to walk again without the use of a cane. But not nearly long enough to forget a love as deep and all consuming as he’d felt for Sebastian. Three hundred years wouldn’t be long enough. That kind of love wasn’t something you could replace, so why even try? Anything else would pale in comparison. All he had left of Sebastian were memories, but they were enough. They were enough.

He certainly didn’t need some glorified sex doll to make him happy. Honestly, what were they thinking? Setting him up on a blind date or something equally irritating Tristan could probably have accepted, but an Artificial Companion? The very idea was ridiculous, not to mention insulting.

“I don’t need anyone.” Tristan muttered to himself, stalking across the room to collect the beer can he’d left on the table. “My sex life’s none of their damn business anyway.” Can in hand, he lifted it to take a long swallow, then scowled upon finding its contents lukewarm. “And why does it have to be so fucking hot?!”

In a surge of temper he threw the half empty can at the wall, chipping paint and spraying beer all over the floor. Breathing heavily, Tristan watched the amber liquid puddle on the floorboards, leaking out of the upturned can like so much blood. God, what a morbid thought. He turned away and closed his eyes briefly, an image of Sebastian lying broken and unmoving on the road springing unbidden from the depths of his mind.

“God, Bastian ...” His voice shuddered and broke, bitter tears stinging his eyes. Furiously blinking them away, Tristan found himself a cold can and, sinking to the floor with his back against the fridge, proceeded to get blind drunk.

---