Chapter 10: The One Where Adam Dates
Adam Stiels, the sitcom puppet master, was a man of irony. He orchestrated romantic disasters, created dramatic plotlines, and manipulated his friends' lives for the sake of a good laugh. But he, the "Dating System" user, had never actually been on a date. His mission, his raison d'être, was to find a romantic partner, but he had been too busy living out the sitcom plotlines of his friends to actually pursue his own.
He was sitting at Central Perk, a cup of coffee in his hand, a look of profound ennui on his face. His "Dating Mission" progress bar was at a pathetic 2%. He had to do something. He had to go on a date. He had to use the System for its intended purpose.
He closed his eyes and sent a mental query. System, I need to go on a date. Provide me with a profile of a compatible partner. Specifically, a partner who will challenge me, and make for a good, comedic story.
[System request received. Request framed as 'Utilizing the System for its intended purpose to acquire a partner.' Request accepted. Generating 'Compatible Partner Profile.']
The holographic interface in Adam's mind flickered to life. It was a profile of a woman named Marla. She was a self-proclaimed "spiritual guru" who believed in auras, chakras, and the power of crystals. Her hobbies included astral projection and communicating with her spirit guide, a raccoon named Bartholomew. Her personality was described as "challenging, eccentric, and prone to dramatic pronouncements." Adam, for the first time since his transmigration, felt a genuine sense of dread.
He met Marla at a small, vegan restaurant in the Village. She was everything the System had promised. She was wearing a flowing, purple kaftan, and she had a large crystal necklace around her neck. She looked at him with an intense, unwavering gaze.
"I sense a powerful, ancient energy in you," she said, her voice a low, theatrical whisper. "An energy that is… chaotic. A demon, perhaps? Sent to test me?"
Adam, who had been about to say, "I'm Adam, nice to meet you," just stared at her. He was on the other side of the sitcom. He was the straight man. He was the victim of a ridiculous, convoluted plot.
The date was a disaster. Marla kept talking about her spirit guide, Bartholomew, and how he was a "wise, all-knowing raccoon" who had warned her about "the demon." She kept trying to read his aura, which she said was "a dark, angry red." She kept trying to get him to hold a crystal, which she said would "cleanse his chaotic energy."
Adam, for the first time, felt a sense of panic. He was a master of sitcoms, a genius of comedic timing, but he was no match for a woman who thought he was a demon. He was a fish out of water, a puppet with his strings cut.
He excused himself to the bathroom, and in the privacy of the small, sterile room, he opened his System interface. He looked at the "Dating Mission" progress bar. It had ticked up by a tiny, pathetic fraction. The System, in its literal-minded way, had seen the date as a success. It had been a "social interaction for the purpose of finding and securing a romantic partner." The fact that it was a complete disaster was irrelevant.
Adam, a defeated man, returned to his table. He looked at Marla, who was now talking to her crystal, and felt a sense of profound, soul-crushing despair. This was his life now. He was a god in a sitcom, a puppet master with an entire cast of characters to play with, but he was also a man who was on a date with a woman who thought he was a demon. The irony was not lost on him.
He was home. And it was a complete, utter mess.
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