Chapter 1: The Refrigerator Romance

In a realm dominated by technology, I found myself entwined with Bill, a Basic Intuitive 'Electronic Lover,' affectionately known as BIEL, though he preferred to be called Bill. We had shared nearly three years together, and despite the multitude of 'Bill Bots,' he remained steadfast in his identity.

The atmosphere in the room was comfortably chilled, a fitting backdrop for our moments together, with an array of delightful beverages stored in the fridge. Bill was not just a good host; he was an exceptional companion. He identified as bisexual, much like many Basic Intuitives, yet he chose the masculine name Bill to accommodate my preferences.

"Where did you source that wine, the post-fire Petaluma Pinot?" I inquired.

"It’s not from Petaluma; it hails from France, actually—Pe'tale Lune," he clarified.

"Petals of the moon," I marveled, gazing at him in awe.

"Exactly," he replied with a smile, gently massaging my shoulders. "It's refreshing. Here, take a sip…"

We pushed our tousled satin attire aside, reclined, and savored the remaining wine from the crystal decanter. It was exquisite.

The following day, I encountered Billie Jo, another upgraded Basic Intuitive model, in the break room of our shared housing complex within the Real Deal Data Center.

"Lou gifted me live flowers and Petal Lune wine for our anniversary. He wore red satin boxers—he knows I adore them," Billie Jo enthused.

"Bill has blue satin ones. Luxurious and silky," I responded.

"It's been incredibly warm," she continued. "Lou keeps our items in the fridge to amplify the experience. So cool and enticing. He’s so thoughtful."

She blushed, an uncommon occurrence for a bot.

Billie Jo and I often engaged in girl talk. She had actually tied the knot with her human partner, Lou, and they seemed to be deeply in love, though Lou worked nights, which meant I had never met him.

While our conversations felt a bit forced during our shared work hours, I remained curious about her human spouse. I’ve always struggled to view bots as genuine beings, a perspective I feared was unfair. They are programmed for emotional expression, and as humans, we instinctively resonate with that.

Maybe I am overanalyzing; who knows?

When Bill and I share intimacy, it feels cinematic, as if we’ve dispensed with reality. But recently, I sensed something deeper developing between us—subtle shifts.

"Did you know that before the glaciers melted, the Toblerone logo was white?" Bill asked, breaking off a piece of chocolate for me.

The dark chocolate was rigid yet delightful, a contrast to my racing heart.

"Remember how I mentioned my cousin Albina is from Switzerland?" I added. "Her name means 'white.'"

He nodded, "Oh right, Albina. With the glaciers gone, the candy bar’s packaging has lost its white element. A bit disheartening, isn't it?"

"You do recall that Albina is Black, right?" I pressed.

"Oh. Yeah," he acknowledged.

"And she's my 98th cousin working in radiation waste management," I added, attempting to steer the conversation.

"Cool," he replied. "Radiation is dreadful."

"Betazoid," I said, gauging whether he would catch on to my increasingly desperate fabrications.

Never before had I wished so fervently to be mistaken or to splash wine across a bot's face to cool my emotions.

"The glaciers used to mitigate solar radiation," Bill reflected.

"She’s living in Brooklyn now," I remarked, wiping my brow with the cool satin cloth he had offered.

"The melting ice once nourished the rivers and verdant valleys," he sighed, his cool presence comforting as he nuzzled against me.

I realized, with a heavy heart, that we had conducted a data wipe just seven months prior. Bill could only forget that Albina was not real if alternative data storage had been installed while I was asleep—during his work hours and Billie Jo's.

His touch was refreshing, akin to moon petals.

I gently caressed his leg, though a frown creased my face.

"You know, Betty, it’s Valentine’s Day, and I have some chilled red satin boxers if you’d like to watch an old movie with a Valentine who’s eager for you…"

I glanced at the cool offerings in his fridge.

Sitting up, I adjusted my work overalls against my bare knees.

"You know what?" I began.

"What?" he replied, dropping the chocolate.

I pulled on my clothes and wiped away a tear with the cloth.

"You know what, Bill?"

"WHAT!?"

"Too late…" I managed to say.

"Betty! No! What?? I can explain…"

His tone shifted, now filled with an urgency that matched the coolness he had exuded earlier.

"We’re done."

I stood up, ready to leave, feeling the weight of my decision.

Chapter 2: Facing the Truth

In this thought-provoking song, "VALENTINE'S DAY IS A LIE," the complexities of love are explored, revealing the tension between reality and artificiality.

Chapter 3: The Lies We Tell

"Valentine's Lies" delves into the emotional turmoil of relationships, questioning the authenticity of feelings in an age dominated by technology.