Chapter 22. Human Interaction Protocol

It was time to pay the bills, or more precisely, to fulfill the promise I had given to Stephanie. Spanish practice would not happen on its own, and my progress had stalled. I felt like a dog that understands everything but cannot speak. Stephanie’s phone number was not in my contacts, but in my case that was not an obstacle, since we shared the same roof, even if in different apartments.

I waited until seven in the evening. That golden hour for polite visits, when most normal people have already returned from work, kicked off their tight shoes, and exhaled. After going down to her floor, I pressed the doorbell.

The response came instantly. A sharp, ringing bark exploded behind the door, making the thin corridor walls vibrate. Right, I had forgotten, she had a Labrador, a perpetual motion machine on four legs.

“Tom?” The door flew open, and Stephanie appeared on the threshold.

She looked like a bright splash against the grayish stairwell. Her pink hair under the fluorescent lights seemed almost neon, the color sometimes made my skin prickle, it was that provocative. On her bare arms, uncovered by the short sleeves of her home shirt, tattoos intertwined in intricate patterns, turning her skin into a canvas.

“Oh, you actually came!” She smiled widely. “So you’ve finally decided to get serious about your Spanish?”

“You remember?” I raised my eyebrows involuntarily. Almost a month had passed since our last conversation about it, and I had secretly hoped the idea had evaporated from her mind. “Listen, I might be coming at a bad time. You’re probably busy… Just tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll come back later.”

“Right now!” she cut in, in a tone that allowed no objections. “Perfect timing. We’ll take a walk, get some air, chat. I’ll walk Lucky too, he’s already losing it. I’ll just grab a jacket, and you stay right here, don’t even think about going anywhere!”

She disappeared into the depths of the apartment, leaving the door slightly open. Her assertiveness always stirred a vague, almost instinctive unease in me. You know that feeling when you are walking down a busy street and suddenly a street promoter swoops down on you? He grabs your arm and, with blazing eyes, starts pushing a “UNIQUE MIRACLE CURE FOR ALL PROBLEMS! ONLY TODAY! LAST CHANCE!!!” You give in to that insane pressure, buy the little bottle, and ten minutes later realize it is just sugar water that costs three times less in any supermarket.

Stephanie’s attention gave off something similar. I did remember my mother’s advice that every woman secretly dreams of marriage, and in her eyes I was practically a super macho in his prime. But that knowledge did not help me relax. If anything, it made me keep my distance.

“I’m ready!” Stephanie burst back into the corridor, nearly knocking me over. She was dragging along a young, muscular Labrador, who immediately started enthusiastically sniffing my sneakers.

Now she was wearing a stylish black designer jacket, tight jeans, and massive platform boots. Next to her, in my plain gray tracksuit, I felt like some kind of dull background. Who would have thought the lesson would start like this, without any preparation?

We stepped out of the cool lobby into the sticky evening air of Los Angeles and headed toward the nearest square. The city buzzed, a siren wailed somewhere in the distance, and neon diner signs had already begun their battle with the approaching dusk.

“So… what am I supposed to do?” I asked when we had passed a couple of blocks. “How exactly are we going to practice? Is there some kind of plan?”

“Well, I guess we should just… talk? In Spanish,” she frowned for a moment, staring into space. It became clear that her teaching experience was exactly zero, and her idea of a learning method was very vague. “Come on, Tom. Start. Be bold.”

@Author’s note: from this point on, the characters speak Spanish. I do not want to duplicate the entire dialogue in two languages to avoid overloading the text.@

“Uh… okay,” I looked around awkwardly, trying to latch onto any object that could serve as a topic for conversation. My mind betrayed me and went blank. “How do you like the weather?”

“It’s fine,” she shrugged.

Amazing. Fantastic conversation. I could practically feel my language level skyrocketing to the heavens. The situation was awkward to the point of absurdity. I had no idea what to talk about with a girl who dyed her hair the color of cotton candy and wore shoes capable of crushing a brick. And she, apparently, had no intention of helping me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a piece of information surfaced from some article: “a language partner should guide the conversation, suggest topics, and gently correct vocabulary.” Stephanie clearly had not read that article.

Time passed. We wandered stupidly along the park path, listening to Lucky’s heavy panting as he methodically marked every second pole. The pause dragged on, becoming almost tangible. I could see that Stephanie also felt out of place, she kept adjusting her jacket and tugging at the leash. My head began to ache from the pointlessness of it all. Stupid. Inefficient. A complete waste of time.

Hm. What if I simply cut away everything unnecessary? Remove that emotional noise that interferes with the task. It was worth trying.

[Special command: disable emotions for 12 hours]

This time I limited the duration. A full day was too long, I did not want to turn tomorrow’s breakfast into another intake of tasteless fuel. I needed to solve a local problem here and now.

Abruptly, as if swept away by an invisible sickle, everything vanished from my mind: irritation, awkwardness, mild aversion to pink hair, and even that familiar discomfort caused by her intrusiveness. The world around me became sharper, the sounds drier. I no longer felt like an awkward guy on a walk. Now I was a biorobot. A functional unit with a clearly defined vector of purpose. No emotions meant no errors in evaluating the situation. Only pure calculation.

So, the initial data: I had a native speaker who possessed the skill I needed but lacked initiative. Conclusion: I had to assume the leading role. The efficiency of the process depended entirely on my structure.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I did not need to appear cheerful, I did not need to flirt or impress. This was not a date. This was a training session. Therefore, I would act according to the methodology of classic phrasebooks. The most common topics, from simple to complex. Section one: self-introduction.

“I’m Tom Ross, I’m thirty-two,” I said in Spanish. My voice sounded even and dry, perhaps slightly more mechanical than was typical for a human, but precise. “I grew up and live in Los Angeles. I’m an accountant. Now you tell me about yourself.”

Stephanie stumbled on flat ground and stared at me in surprise. Her eyebrows rose, but she quickly composed herself and nodded.

“Oh… we’re doing this right away? No warm-up? Alright,” she switched to Spanish, adjusting to my tone. “I’m Stephanie Brown, I’m twenty-six. I’ve been living in Los Angeles for only three years. I work as a veterinarian at the clinic across the street.”

“So you also chose a job closer to home?” I continued, methodically constructing sentences. “My previous workplace was located only five minutes on foot from my building.”

“And now?”

“Now the situation has changed. The job is farther away, and in the near future I may have to consider relocation.”

I had no intention of going into details about my current, rather specific line of work, but letting the conversation fade would have been a tactical error. I needed to maintain momentum. Moving to the next block: family and origins.