A month is a surprisingly long time when you’re excitedly awaiting the end of it. Work is never exactly fun, but the drudgery felt worse for this month than ever before. I had so many questions, but all avenues for asking were completely cut off. Taylor had been MIA for quite a long time, so I’d not been able to ask him anything.

I watch as the clock slowly ticks past 7 o’clock. Today is the day before my departure, and as a farewell gift, I’ve been saddled with an exorbitant amount of work. So here I sit, reading proposals, looking at code, doing everything that should’ve been done long before it reached my station. I swear it feels like I’m the only one who does any work around this godforsaken place. If you couldn’t tell, I’m quite frustrated. 

“Fuck it. Fuck this paper. Fuck this desk. Fuck everything. I’m done.” I slap the remaining papers down on my desk, stand up, and walk out. There are a few people still working, but otherwise, the building is abandoned. Normally, extra work wasn’t a problem, but there is no way I could handle all of what has been dumped on me today. Instead, I walk out of the building, get in my car, drive home, eat some shitty instant food, and go to bed. No way in hell I'm going to be able to sleep though. Instead, I stare at the ceiling and think about my trip tomorrow.

After I’d gotten out of the car with… fuck… I never asked for her name. I had sex with some random girl who I’d just met, and I didn’t even know her name. When I was younger I often dreamed of romance, the partners I would have, and the experiences we would share together. Not once did I think the total of my romantic experiences at the age of 29 would be railing some chick in the back of a car before I even knew her name, then following her to an island in the middle of buttfuck nowhere so that I could be with her. Was I desperate?

As I thought more about the resort I was going to stay at, the less I realized I knew. There was no information on anything about this resort anywhere that I could find. I couldn’t ask Taylor because he fucked off to Antarctica or some shit, and after I’d left the limo with Whatever-her-name-is I couldn’t ask her more questions. I thought I’d had a good grasp on the situation at that time, but now I know that I know almost nothing.

The total of my knowledge is this.

• The resort is on a secret island in the middle of nowhere.
• It’s called “Calypso”
• The island is populated by nothing but beautiful women and is intended as some kind of sex-resort.
• There will only be a few other men there, all of which will be rich and famous.
• They won’t keep women at the resort against their will, so if they want to leave with you, they can.

That’s it. That’s all I know. Was agreeing to this actually a good idea? There’s no way it was, right?

I lay there agonizing over everything I knew the entire night. I'm startled from my thoughts by an alarm going off. Once more into the fray. I grab my previously packed suitcase full of clothing and walk out of my front door. It's 6:30, and still quite dark outside. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust, but when they do I'm greeted by a black car, with windows tinted so dark they might as well be opaque. Someone steps out of the backseat. Dark hair, beautiful pale skin, and a tall, curvy figure; Yet another beautiful woman.  She's wearing clothing that is a godless combination of both professional and slutty. She wears a black blazer, which gave me a full view of her low-cut white top. Below that, a tight skirt that's somewhere between a mini-skirt and something you might see in a more professional setting.

“Hello, Mr. Stann. My name is Alexandra and I will be responsible for your trip from this point forward. If anything is not to your liking, don’t hesitate to tell me.” she says in a deadpan voice.

She holds the car door open and gestures for me to get inside. I climb into the car, with her entering behind me. The car was much smaller than the limo from a month ago, but it was obviously custom as well. The outside of the car doesn’t look particularly exotic or expensive, but the inside makes it very obvious that this is not an inexpensive car. The door shuts with a thud, and we begin to drive. Alexandra sits beside me, and there's an opaque wall between the driver's seat and me, giving Alexandra and me some privacy. I'm curious about our destination and ask accordingly.

“So… where are we going?”

“To a private air terminal.” She says in that same deadpan voice. She really doesn’t betray much emotion when she speaks.

“Can I ask where this ‘private air terminal’ is?”

“I can’t be more specific. I don’t know the location myself. The only person in this car who knows where we’re going is the driver.”

“I just… I have so many questions.”

“You do? Gina obviously hasn’t done her job very well. I’ll be more than happy to answer any questions you have.”

“Is Gina the woman who extended my invitation?”

“Yes. Gina was responsible for extending invitations to all of our guests.”

Score! I know the mystery redhead's name now. A little bit of the shame I felt over our meeting was lifted from my shoulders. At least I know her name if nothing else. I’ve been agonizing over my lack of information for a full month, and I finally have the chance to ask all of my questions. Time to rapid-fire this shit.

“Are you one of the artificial women?”

“Yes. Every woman you interact with from this point forward will be a synthetically made person.”

“What’s it like?”

“I have no biological differences from a natural human. I am the same as you.”

“How are synthetic people made?”

“I do not know. All the science is kept completely secret, even from those it creates.”

I ask quite a few more things, but it seems like the answers that she can offer me are quite limited. Information on the location of the island, the science behind it, and the business behind it are all met with “I don’t know.” None of my questions were answered satisfactorily. 

Surprisingly, I can’t bring myself to care that much. All my agonizing seems so unimportant now. I’m going to the island, overthinking everything isn’t going to change anything.

“So… how long will our travel time be?”

“Our drive to the terminal will be about 40 minutes, and the flight will take about 4 hours.”

Based on the travel time I can estimate where the island is. We’re on the East coast, so I’d imagine it’s somewhere in the Atlantic, but I can’t get much more specific than that. Rather than worry about it, I lean back in my chair. Time to get comfortable. 

The drive passes in no time at all. We are driven directly onto the tarmac, where a small private plane awaits. The drive wasn't particularly long, but after stepping out of the car I have no idea where we are. I do, however, see a familiar face. “Taylor you piece’a shit where’ve you been!”

“Ahh y’know… business meetings and all that.”

“For an entire month?”

“Yup.”

“With no forewarning?”

“Yuh-huh”

“Bullshit, was it Soapland again?”

“What! No!” He immediately tried to deny it, but the look on his face told me that I was absolutely correct.

“You can’t keep flying to Japan just to rail some whores man.” He does this with alarming regularity. A few times a year, he just disappears to someplace around the world, primarily Asia, and goes on a fucking spree.

“If I play my cards right… I won’t have to. ”

“Hm?”

“The resort, man! You can literally take home a harem if you want!”

So… that’s Taylor’s motive. I’m not at all surprised.

“So… you’re gonna find all the Asian girls on the island and bring ‘em home with you?”

“Ye… wait no! I don’t have a thing for Asians!” He’s really embarrassed about this particular proclivity of his. It came from back when he was super into anime. Turns out, we were both turbo-dweebs in high school.

Alexandra, who had been standing by my side as Taylor and I spoke, raised her voice. “Excuse me sirs, but we should board. You can continue your discussion while we fly.”

Taylor and I continue to bicker while we board. I give him lots of shit, and he serves it right back. I'm glad he's here.