Chapter 17: FIRST ACHIEVEMENT
MacLaren's was quiet on Tuesday evenings.
I'd claimed my usual spot in the booth—back to the wall, sightlines to the bar—and was nursing a beer while reviewing the system's new notifications. Spark Enhancement seemed straightforward enough: a weak ability to boost first impressions, make initial conversations flow more smoothly. The cost was 30 FP per use, which wasn't cheap, but if it helped with difficult matches...
"Love guru!"
Barney Stinson materialized beside my booth carrying a folder. An actual folder, with tabs and papers and what appeared to be color-coded dividers.
"Barney."
"Don't 'Barney' me. This is a professional meeting." He slid into the seat across from me with the confidence of a man who had never been told no in his entire life. "I have a business proposal."
"I'm not interested in—"
"You haven't even heard it yet." He opened the folder. I caught a glimpse of graphs. Charts. What might have been a Venn diagram. "I call it The Barney-Ethan Synergy Matrix."
"The what?"
"Synergy Matrix. Look." He turned the folder toward me. There were indeed graphs—well-made ones, actually. Projected earnings. Target demographics. A flowchart titled "Optimization of Romantic Outcomes (ORO)."
"You made a PowerPoint for this?"
"I made a presentation deck for this. There's a difference." He tapped the first page. "Here's the pitch: you have abilities. I have... ambitions. Together, we can revolutionize the New York dating scene."
"You want to monetize my abilities for your hookups."
"I want to synergize our respective skill sets for mutual benefit." Barney's smile was the kind of smile that had probably closed a thousand corporate deals. "You tell me which women are... receptive. Which ones are actually available, which ones are looking for what I'm offering. I close. We split the profits."
"There are no profits in this scenario."
"There are emotional profits. Satisfaction metrics. Successful engagement indicators."
"You made up those terms."
"They're very real in the synergy space."
I pulled the folder toward me and actually looked at the graphs. They were detailed. Annotated. Someone had spent real time on this—probably Barney, during work hours at whatever mysterious job he held at Goliath National Bank.
"Barney, I appreciate the effort. I do. This is genuinely impressive work." I closed the folder. "But I'm not helping you manipulate women."
"It's not manipulation. It's efficiency! It's optimization! It's—"
"It's using information about people's romantic fates to help you sleep with them and never call again."
He deflated slightly. "When you put it that way..."
"I see people's soulmates," I said quietly. "Every woman you've hit on at this bar—I can see where their string leads. And it's not to you. It's to accountants in Queens. Firefighters in Brooklyn. Lawyers in Midtown. Watching you try to seduce someone whose destiny lies with a dentist is just..." I searched for the word. "Sad."
Barney stared at me for a long moment.
"How sad?"
"Very."
"Very sad, or very very sad?"
"Barney."
"I'm just trying to quantify the sadness. For the Matrix."
I sighed and pushed the folder back toward him. "Find someone who actually wants what you're offering. Someone whose string doesn't lead to a chiropractor in Hoboken."
"What if I don't have a string?"
The question caught me off guard. Barney's usual bravado had slipped, just for a moment, revealing something underneath that looked almost vulnerable.
"Everyone has a string," I said carefully. "Yours is just... complicated."
"Complicated how?"
I thought about what I'd seen of Barney's string—the way it led somewhere specific but the destination was obscured, wrapped in shadows that my current level couldn't penetrate. The system had said he needed to grow first. Needed to become someone capable of the connection waiting for him.
"Complicated in ways that aren't my story to tell," I said finally. "But she's out there. Your person. You just have to become the version of yourself who deserves to find her."
Barney was quiet for an unusually long time. Then he collected his folder, straightened his tie, and stood up.
"Fine. But when you change your mind—and you will—remember: synergy." He pointed at me. "The offer remains on the table."
"I'll keep that in mind."
He walked toward the bar, folder tucked under his arm, already scanning the room for his next target. Some things didn't change overnight.
From the corner booth, Ted's voice drifted over: "What was that about?"
I turned. Ted had been sitting there the whole time, apparently, hunched over a notebook with Robin's name visible in the margins. He looked up from what appeared to be either a love poem or a very elaborate manifesto.
"Barney being Barney."
"He's been weird lately." Ted set down his pen. "Weirder than usual. He keeps making spreadsheets."
"I noticed."
"Is that normal? For Barney?"
"I don't think anything is normal for Barney."
Ted laughed—the first genuine laugh I'd heard from him since the intervention. He closed the notebook, and I pretended not to notice that Robin's name appeared at least seven times on the visible page.
"How's the matchmaking thing going?" he asked. "Karen told Lily told Marshall told me that she's basically in love with some bookstore guy now."
"Karen and Daniel are doing well. Very well."
"That's cool." Ted's expression was wistful. "Must be nice. Having someone who can just... point you at the right person."
I thought about the golden string stretching away from Ted, the Tracy Protocol blocking my view of his future. The woman waiting for him at a train station in Farhampton, years from now.
"The pointing's the easy part," I said. "The work is still on you."
"Yeah." He opened the notebook again. "Speaking of work..."
"Is that about Robin?"
"It's about architecture."
"Uh-huh."
"It's a poem about architecture. That happens to mention certain architectural features that remind me of certain people."
"People named Robin?"
"...maybe."
I left him to his architecturally-themed romantic poetry and headed home. The system notifications from earlier were still fresh in my mind—Level 7, Spark Enhancement unlocked, a new milestone achieved.
Tomorrow, I'd test the new ability on Mike and Brittany. See if a ten-percent boost to first impressions could help bridge the gap between a software developer who lived by spreadsheets and a yoga instructor who lived by the stars.
God help us all.
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