FIELD NOTES: For Research Purposes
On apps, friendship boxes that got checked, anatomy, and the data I did not expect to collect.
Céleste knocked on a Tuesday with tabbouleh and an agenda.
She set the bowl on the table, sat down like she was staying, and said: “You need people.”
I told her I was fine. She said fine isn’t the same as not dying alone, which I found statistically extreme but chose not to argue with someone who had just brought tabbouleh unprompted.
She had a solution.
The app was her idea. “It’s for creative people,” she said. “And you can choose just friends. You don’t have to date anyone. Look, I checked the box for you.”
I looked at the box. Then at the kind of people the app was attracting.
My field involves documenting species behavior across multiple planetary systems. Whether that counts as creative I wasn’t sure. Perception requires imagination, I reasoned. Close enough.
The selection took twenty-one minutes.
I had options: the Greek island photo from last summer, the trekking photo where I look like an academic who has recently been through something, and the gym photo, which is the most honest representation of who I am but Céleste described as “endearing in a way that will not help you here.”
She took over.
She chose the Greek island. She chose the park photo where I’m crouching next to a dog I’d just met. She chose the one where I’m laughing at something I don’t remember. “These say you’re a person,” she said.
I let that pass.
For the bio, I wrote: Field Researcher.
Céleste said: “What does that mean?”
“It means what it says.”
“Nobody will know what it means. Write something warmer.”
We compromised. Something warmer than field researcher, less cooler than whoever Céleste wanted me to be. Two sentences. Friendly and vague. Perfect.
She showed me how to swipe. Left is no. Right is yes. The entire romantic infrastructure of this species, reduced to a direction.
The first few days were mostly quiet. Some matches. Some messages that started fine and got strange.
One man had won a sailing competition. He messaged: “Celebrated today, come continue the evening with me.”
I didn’t understand the subtext. I asked Céleste.
She explained.
I stared at her for a moment. “This is normal?”
“Unfortunately.”
I changed the bio. Back to Field Researcher. My first instinct was right. Changed the photos too. Removed the Greek island, put in the gym photo, the one taken approximately forty seconds after finishing a particularly difficult session.
The messages got worse.
I reported this to Céleste. She was not surprised. I found her lack of surprise more disturbing than the messages.
Then came the photograph.
I want to be precise here. On my planet, certain anatomical features are internal. Sheltered. Private by design and by architecture. IRD documentation had mentioned this particular human practice. I had questions about the source material. I no longer have those questions.
My first reaction was to laugh. Genuine, uncontrollable laughter. I texted Céleste immediately: “Should I tell him he made me laugh?”
Her response was immediate: “Do not. Some of them like that. You will never get rid of him.”
I did not respond to the message.
I also did not open the app for three days.
On the fourth day, the researcher in me won.
I’m currently working on a second book. This time the IRD and GIA actually sent me the research files. Voluntarily. Dr. Thool and his partner filed the reports, they want me to write the afterword.
The first time I found Thool’s notes in a bar in Prague, published them without permission, and spent two months receiving strongly worded emails. Apparently this taught them something. They’ve decided if I’m going to publish it anyway, they might as well be involved.
I find this both flattering and slightly concerning for their judgment.
In the spirit of contributing properly this time, I’ve decided to add my own field research. The app is the most concentrated sample of human romantic behavior I’ve encountered. The data is substantial. The messages are substantially worse.
I opened it again. For the book. Céleste doesn’t need to know.
— Kira
P.S. The friendship box is still checked. I’ve received no friend requests. Make of that what you will.
One more thing. The first book is already out you know. Dr. Thool’s field manual on Earth drinking culture, filed, annotated, and published without IRD approval exactly as you’d expect. A limited number of advance review copies are available via Booksprout. If you’d like one and want to leave a review, the link is below. It would mean more than the IRD’s quarterly assessment. Which, for reference, has never once been positive.
Was missing these posts, so I went and got the ebook. =)
Love it! Im afraid Im not enough of a drinker to appreciate your ARC though.