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SF Trope: Absolute xenophobes
Current Event: http://io9.com/what-will-human-cultures-be-like-in-100-years-453934475
Diandra Ngobogo and Guychel Kolchak walked side-by-side in the Mall of America. The Mall was crowded – more so than it had been in decades. The entire building had been renovated and vertical banners proclaiming, “Fifty Years Of Quality Shopping” floated from antigrav advert-eyezers, brushing shoppers with trailers of brilliantly colored silk.
It was just as effective as elaborate signage had been in the last century. Most of the people ignored them. While it was true people ducked into and out of shops, the majority simply walked, talking.
To themselves.
Even so, it was quieter. The near silence was broken only by the squeak of tennis shoes and murmuring voices, as if someone had stumbled into a Buddhist temple filled with saffron-robed monks doing their morning prayers.
Diandra said, “What could you possibly want with that?”
Guychel said, “Where would she go with someone like him?” He squeezed Diandra’s hand so hard, she yelped, yanking her hand away from his.
He didn’t notice even when she glanced at him. He did notice when she shoved him hard enough to stumble into a column that rose up all seven stories to support a semi-transparent roof panel. He said, “I’ll talk to you in a minute,” tapped his phone and glared at Diandra and exclaimed, “What was that for?” He tapped his phone again and muttered, “No, not you! I’m talking to Diandra.” He paused. “She’s my girlfriend.” Paused again then said, “Why would you think that?” and hung up on the caller. He finally looked at Diandra and said, “What?”
Balled fists on her hips, she jerked her head sideways once, calling Guychel. She murmured, “We haven’t said a word to each other since we got here.”
“We’re talking now,” he murmured back.
“You didn’t even notice when I stopped holding your hand!” she said.
He looked stupid at the offending member then at her, murmuring, “So?”
“Why do we even go to the trouble of getting together if we’re just going to walk alongside each other and still talk to the rest of the world?”
He stared at her then swallowed hard. He hung up and said to her directly, “Are you breaking up with me?”
She hung up as well and said out loud, “I like you a lot. Why would I break up with you?”
“You’re not talking to me, though,” Guychel said.
“I’m talking to you.”
He gestured angrily, “You know what I mean! We’re not on the same circuit!”
Diandra stared at him for several seconds before he looked away. She said, “I skipped fifteen times from Jakarta to here just to be with you. Do you see any more couples here?”
Guychel looked. He frowned. Then he turned in a circle and finally said, “None that I can see. They’re all here by themselves for whatever reason, but they’re with their real friends, too. What’s wrong with that?”
She’d done the same thing, tracking various Mall walkers. She finally said, “I ain’t a genius…”
“You are, too. That’s what the datafile says. It’s why I texted you.”
She blinked in surprise then smiled, “You flirted me because I was smart?”
He grinned lopsidedly, “That and you’re a sexbag.”
She sniffed and slugged him on the shoulder and said, “You’re no outtrash yourself.”
He blushed under his pink dyed blond hair. The two colors clashed remarkably. He said, “So, what you’re saying is that we should like, really talk to each other?”
Diandra shrugged, “Could be new.”
Guychel grinned then looked up. Way up. He frowned. “What?” Diandra asked.
He jerked his chin up. “Someone was watching us.”
She touched her headset then said, “I ran it back. You’re right. Who was that?”
Names: ♀ Indonesia, Central African Republic; ♂ Democratic Republic of Congo, Russia (Siberia)
Image: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/e1/Falcon_9_Demo-2_Launching_6_%283%29.jpg/220px-Falcon_9_Demo-2_Launching_6_%283%29.jpg
