Genre: Romance
Plot: The perfect person, but they’re only a hologram
Words to use: Code, online, computer, robot, virtual, reality, touch, sensation, feel, companion, friend, listen, presence, space, time.
The taxi edged away from the curb and upwards, back into the sky lane with the next paid fair. Lena gripped her suitcase’s handle with long slim nails painted red and hurried toward the entry. She was greeted by a ruddy man with a thick mustache and dark brown eyes, dressed in classic livery, his gold buttons shining in the dappled sunlight above slicing through the open slats holding the glass of the overhang. She approved of his tailored appearance that matched hers, jacket over a crisp white blouse, and relaxed trousers with kitten heels, gold jewelry of simple elegance, and a fragrance that smelled faintly of wealth and breeding. She had a part to play in life.
“Welcome to Aurora Grand Hotel, madam,” he said in a french accent and gentle, welcoming smile, as he opened the glass door to allow her across the shiny brass threshold.
“So far so good,” she said to herself as she returned his smile and nod.
She booked her week-long stay online based on the images and without reading the reviews. The rooms looked luxurious and comforting, something she desperately needed after this last break-up. When she entered the hotel lobby, it wasn’t just a hotel she had entered, but what seemed like the space of a dream, a lovely dream of happiness and contentment. Its lobby rose upward and touched the airy atrium of glass and warm sunlight. Sunlight poured in like streams of melting gold. It was a sensation that felt overwhelming at first, but you took it all in with each lingering area of tension being erased with each footstep. The smell of jasmine and orange permeated the air, a piano played in a corner, soothing and unobtrusive. The reception desk was more of a piece of modern sculpture, molded from pale oak and brushed steel, curving gently along the center of the lobby. Groups of plush seating surrounded it. She stood in the middle and drank it all in, she could feel the knot in her stomach becoming more distinct as the rest of her body relaxed. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure that this was reality and not a dream.
“Can I help you, ma’am,” the voice said from behind the desk. The glow of a computer hitting the receptionist’s bald head gave it a green sheen.
A few yards behind her, a robot with long arms and thick metallic girth effortlessly pushed a tray of covered salvers which she figured held the amazing tasting food they advertised. She couldn’t wait.
Lena kept going toward the desk and friendliness, dragging her suitcase upright.
“Yes, my name is Lena Carter and I have a room reserved – a suite overlooking the gardens,” the receptionist started typing, its artificial eyes dark and lifeless. Sadness crept inside momentarily. She wished he was there with her, but it quickly shifted into defiance, angry at the memory of his last expressions of rejection. Screw him, I’ll find someone else.
“You’re checked in,” it said, “I have sent the code to your room to your wrist chip.”
Lena checked her wrist, pressed it and it sent a scan code outside of her body. She nodded and grabbed her bag, heading to the bank of elevators for the emerald wing. Her path crossed by the concierge desk.
Overhead, a simple polished sign read simply: Concierge Services. It was the person behind the desk that drew her eye. He wore a tailored navy jacket, gold tie in a special cravat knot beneath the folded collar of white, crisp shirt. He had dark brown hair, neatly styled almost too perfectly. Is that a person? She asked herself. He had an aura of ease. She looked around and met one of his sky blue eyes. He smiled immediately, warm and human – very different from the men she usually picked. Lena wasn’t beautiful, but pretty and didn’t have a hard time finding dates, usually average men who turned out to be disappointing. The name plate said Julian. She smiled back and got closer.
“Can I help you with any activities or needs, Lena?”
She jolted with the sound of her name.
“I would like to schedule a massage,” she replied.
“Of course,” he said with a velvety voice and checked his computer. “For yourself, or did you bring a companion with you?”
“No,” she giggled, “no companion.”
He didn’t respond, but flicked a few glances in her direction. His body’s edges slightly shimmered with a catch of the overhead light.
“There is an appointment in the garden spa for late this evening or I have one for tomorrow morning, if you’d prefer.”
“Tonight would be wonderful. It’d be a good way to start my vacation.”
“Okay, tonight at nine,” he filled out a card and handed it to her. She felt the warmth of his hand when she took the card, a slight touch of fingers and she felt a spark. She smiled at him and turned to leave, not looking behind.
The ride up in the elevator was short. It opened to her floor, she got out and stepped onto the plush carpeting that softened any noise created by her case rambling behind her.
She picked a queen suite. It looked over the interior terrarium. She scanned the key reader with her wrist implant and it gave way gently and she pushed the door open easily. She passed the large bathroom with the walk-in shower, double basin, and soaking tub all made from marble and glass, a sitting room with a modern sofa of velvet, maple side chairs, and splashes of color on a canvas called art, and the bedroom with bright white cozy comforter, deep red curtains of silk damask on both sides of the sliding door to the balcony overlooking the interior atrium.
She grabbed the luggage rack from the closet behind the two thick terry cloth robes hanging, mocking her. She took her make-up case from the bag and went to the bathroom. The lights turned on automatically as she entered. She stared at the mirror, looking at her reflection. “Wow, Lena, time is not being a friend.” She left her bag on the counter and went to the sitting room. On the coffee table was her virtual assistant. She pressed the button and the woman happily greeted her to the hotel, rattling off all the amenities in and around the hotel and how to get in touch or guests could tell her with the use of a code and she’d be more than happy to help. What she needed was a drink. She changed out of her travelling clothes and into a fitted maroon dress and heels to match and headed back down the elevator. She didn’t want to bother anyone else with her presence like her ex implied, but it couldn’t be helped. She wished she would have listened to her co-worker, she saw right through him and warned her, but the fire burned bright at first and quickly faded. Some relationships are like that, she supposed. Live and learn.
Lena ignored the negative talk still ringing in her ears and sauntered with confidence in her heels and slinky dress. She entered the dimly lit bar. Heads still turned as she made her way to the row of bar stools, a bartender behind the long wood bar pouring drinks. If someone wanted to be her ‘friend’, all they had to do is ask and she would listen to any sincere offer.
She eased herself onto a lush stool of bright red upholstery at the end. She gave a weak smile to the bartender. He had his blond hair long and pulled back into a low ponytail, brown eyes that looked like they’d seen a lot, a square chin with just enough stubble to soften the edges, and red lips that made cherries jealous. He had a slim, muscular build and she imagined his days off were filled with outside physical activities.
“What can I get for you, pretty lady,” he said, returning her smile.
“A manhattan would hit the spot about now, thanks,” she said, folding her fingers together in prayer, leaning against the countertop. She hoped he couldn’t read her mind.
“Coming up.” He moved deftly, getting a chilled glass and pouring rock hard ice, mixed liquids from memory, stirred and poured into a coupe, garnishing with a cherry and pushed it into her waiting hands with a half-smile.
“Looks amazing, thanks,” she said. The bartender had more drinks to make and she turned to look out into the bar. Patrons, with their small tables filled with drinks and nibbles of deep-fried varieties, laughed with the ease alcohol gave them. The bar opened in all directions, looking out to the atrium, the indoor pool and the lobby.
She sipped her drink from the small narrow straw and looked around vacantly. She opened her phone to check her email. Conversations increased around her as more people came to drink and chat.
“Would you like another,” the bartender asked. She swiveled around.
“One more,” she replied. He nodded and quickly got to work.
“I am here to enjoy my freedom,” she replied, “if you’re curious as to why I am on my own. My boyfriend, uh, ex-boyfriend, decided to end things and left.”
“I am sorry, that stinks,” he replied and leaned forward against the counter. Another customer called him over and he tapped the bar and left her with the world beginning to whirl.
That’s enough for now, she thought to herself. It’s not good to get too drunk. She thought then again, he didn’t care anymore, why should she?
She pushed the drink away and got off the bar stool. A few eyes watched her as she left the bar. The concierge was still behind his desk as she passed. It felt like a whim, but she felt compelled to stop. She racked her hazy brain of what she wanted to say.
“Can I help you with something, miss?” His smile felt like sunshine.
“Can you escort me to my room?” she plopped in one of the rolling chairs and almost fell out of it. “I am not feeling too well.”
“Let me call you someone to help.” He leaned over to grab the phone.
“You can’t help me? How come?”
“I am sorry,” he smiled, “but, I must stay at my post, but I can find someone you can trust to help you up to your room.”
“Do you ever leave your desk?” She leaned against the desk, her elbow near the fragrant vase of flowers, her head pressed into her hand. She made circles with her fingers on the smooth wood.
“No,” he replied.
“Never?” her brows furrowed, the look of confusion spread across her face. “You don’t even go home?”
“I don’t have a home,” he replied. He kept her gaze squarely and confident, his aura glowed a glint of gold.
“Who doesn’t have a home?”
“Me. I don’t have a home. My program is shut off between ten o’clock in the evening and six in the morning. You see – I am a hologram.”
He pushed his hand out beyond his desk and it disappeared. He pulled the arm back and it reappeared.
Lena blinked hard, she didn’t want to listen, but it crashed into her consciousness. Not again she thought, “A hologram…well…that’s disappointing.”
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Copyright © Rachel D. Knepp 2026
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means—including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods—without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or critical articles.
