By John Cosper

"This is insane!" Betsy shook her head as she typed another reply into the instant messenger box. This was five nights in a row she had come to the cyber chat room known as the Coffee House. It wasn't a pick up joint, her friends kept telling her, but a place for like minded artists, poets, and dreamers to come together. Betsy was eager to talk with other poets who might share her heart... especially handsome, male, single poets. Her best friend Nadia had met Cesar this way, and they were now living together in Spain. Maybe lightning doesn't strike twice, but that never stopped Betsy from standing in the spots where her friends had been electrocuted.

A blue glow and hum distracted her from the computer. She turned to the clear cylinder in the corner of the room to watch the Chinese food delivery boy materialize in the teleportation tube.

"Hey, Charlie!" she said.

"Hey, Bett. Got your Chicken and Broccoli, direct from Hong Kong."

"You're awesome," she told him, handing over her bank card. He scanned it with his WristRegister, debiting the amount of the food plus her customary two dollar tip. Handing the card back he told her, "Have a good one."

Another blaze of blue ozone and he was gone, half way around the world in Hong Kong.

Betsy opened the carton of food and took a long whiff. There was nothing quite like authentic Chinese food from China. She began devouring it with the same passion she had devouring poems from her boy in Seattle – as she now thought of him - for the last hour.

While Betsy had long hoped her online romance would include a suave Frenchman, she had discovered through a roommate that the French were pretty much stuck up and thoroughly disrespectful of American girls. Katie made the mistake of giving a guy named Pierre her teleport address, and spent the next two weeks trying to get rid of him as he took over her life.

One or two perverts had already propositioned Betsy looking for sex. She simply ignored them in search of more quality men, and she was not disappointed. A fellow named Peter in New Zealand shared her affection for the writings of Edgar Rice Burroughs. It was nice to have an intelligent conversation about Tarzan for once, though Betsy knew it could never be more. Teleportation made dating possible, but his disdain for children made him totally unacceptable.

Betsy also enjoyed a guy named Karl she met in New York City. Karl was a restaurant owner, and quite the expert when it comes to fine wines. Again great conversation, but no hope of a future; Karl was gay.

These and a few other "almosts" made meeting Devin all the more remarkable. A sensitive, witty, and charming guy with a devastatingly handsome photo, Devin was a poet. Not a waiter jotting free verse on the back of bills, but a real poet with published poems and an income from his writing. He was a kind, attentive listener, a lover of all people - including children - and the most beautiful soul Betsy had ever encountered.

Devin's latest was a tribute to the Seattle rain. Betsy loved listening to the rain, absorbing the soothing sounds of drops pattering on the window of her bedroom and letting it relax her like a skilled masseuse. What amazed Betsy was the magical way Devin captured, in words, everything she ever felt about rain. And she told him so.

"You've got a gift," she typed. "You see beauty in everything!"

"Beauty is there, if you'll only look," he told her. "I've already sensed it in you."

Thankful not to have a webcam that betrayed her blush, Betsy sighed and savored the compliment with another taste of Chicken and Broccoli. She pondered a moment how to reply to his latest comment, but simply came back with, "No there's not."

She got the desired response. Over the next three minutes, he sent line after line of improvised poetry. It had to be improvised! They'd only talked a few hours at best. He described her physical beauty, based on the holo-pics she had sent him. He complimented everything from her taste in fine wines to her love for early twentieth century pulp novels, even finding a rhyme for "Tarzan."

"Thank you, Nadia," she said. It was true, the Internet was the best thing to ever happen to single people. No longer limited to the perverts and uneducated slouches of this small town in the Mid-South, Betsy was thoroughly enjoying the educated, kind, and romantic men found online. For the first time in her life she had hope not merely of getting married, but falling in love.

"I don't know what to say," Betsy typed. "No one's ever written me a poem before."

"Liar!" he teased her with a ;-) wink.

"I mean it. The guys around here... I just need to get away."

"No," he said. "The south is a beautiful place."

"It's really not," she said.

"It's better than Seattle, believe me. Warmer temps and a lot less rain."

Betsy smiled, turning the flirting back on. "You like things southern, do you?"

"I do," he said.

"It was a nice day here. Kind of cool tonight, though."

"Is that so?"

"Yup."

"Nice night to huddle under a blanket," he suggested.

"Mm, blankets are nice, but I can think of nicer."

"Such as?"

Betsy's fingers froze over the keyboard. Should she do it? What if he's another Pierre? Nah, Katie was an idiot, and Betsy had always had better judgment than her friend. Sure, she had only seen one holo. Sure, they had only known each other three days. But they had logged over nine hours talk time already. Devin was super sweet, and Betsy, well, she was super-starved for affection.

"How about a poet from Seattle?"

Devin's reaction was timely, though it felt like forever to Betsy. "Really? You think that's something you'd enjoy?"

"Most definitely."

"Okay then," said Devin. "Your tiny, lonely apartment or mine?"

"Mine," she said. And then she typed her teleport address.

"Be right there," he said, closing off their chat window.

Betsy dashed to the bathroom, giving her hair a quick primping. She grabbed the mouthwash off the counter and gargled a big mouthful, working as much Chinese food out of her teeth as she could. Would she kiss him? Heck yeah, given the chance. Better spritz some perfume on as well, all the better to lure him in. A quick adjustment of her shirt, and she returned to the den to wait.

It wasn't long before the tube began to glow bright blue. Butterflies welled up in Betsy's stomach as her Internet lover appeared.

Had Betsy lived long enough to take a closer look, she would have discovered that Devin was even more handsome in person than his holo showed him to be, with piercing blue eyes, tanned skin, and soft, well-groomed blonde hair. What she did learn in her final seconds of life was that Devin was tall, and very muscular, which he demonstrated by lunging at her from the tube with a large knife, wrestling her to the ground, and stabbing her over and over and over, bleeding the life out of her through gaping stab wounds in her chest. Yes, Devin from Seattle was a handsome poet with a beautiful soul. He failed to mention he was also a raging psychotic.

Ain't modern love grand?

Copyright 2006 by John Cosper