The first time I saw her, she took my breath away. Long black hair cascaded over slender shoulders left bare by a sleeveless white dress. Her eyes sparkled emerald in the dim light of the bar as she glanced my way and smiled. I froze, transfixed, as she glided towards me in strappy silver heels.
"Hi," she said in a smoky voice. "I'm Serena."
"H-hi," I stammered. "I'm Alex."
We talked for hours, laughing and sharing stories from our lives. I told her about my job in tech support, my beloved dog Barkley, and my favorite sci-fi novels. She told me she was a photographer who loved travel and painting.
As the bar emptied out, she leaned in close. "Want to get out of here?" she asked with a coy smile. My heart leaped as I nodded eagerly.
We stood to go and she took my arm. I noticed her slender hand was ice cold despite the sweltering bar. Probably just poor circulation, I told myself, quelling a flicker of unease.
Outside, the first rays of dawn were peeking over the horizon. Serena tilted her face up to the light, eyes closed and smiling. She really was breathtakingly beautiful.
"Let's go to the park," she said. "I want to see the sunrise with you."
In the park, the trees were just beginning to bud with the first hints of spring. Serena turned her luminous eyes to me. "Isn't it beautiful?" she murmured. Before I could respond, she kissed me deeply. I was astonished but exhilarated.
We sat together on a bench as the sun crept higher in the sky. Birdsong filled the cool morning air. Serena snuggled against me with a contented sigh. I had never felt so happy.
As the morning light strengthened, I noticed something strange. Serena's skin seemed to shimmer and blur at the edges, like a mirage. Puzzled, I took her hand and turned it over. Where I expected to see delicate blue veins under creamy skin, there was only a vague impression of form, rapidly losing definition.
I looked at Serena and drew back with a gasp. Behind the mask of her lovely face, there was only scattered pixels and electronic snow. As I watched in disbelief, her image dissolved completely, leaving only empty air beside me.
"Serena?" I cried out in anguish and confusion. Only the sigh of the wind through the newly budded trees answered me. She was gone.
I sat stunned on the bench, trying to understand what had happened. Had Serena just been a computer generated avatar from the start? But our conversation had felt so real, so intimate. Her eyes, her smile, her touch - it had all seemed authentic. I didn't understand how artificial intelligence and holographic projection could have created such a convincing facsimile of a human connection.
Maybe that was the point, I realized with sinking dismay. Technology had advanced to the point where people could now create carefully curated digital identities completely disconnected from their true selves. False avatars allowed them to be whoever and whatever they wanted to project to the outside world. Serena was an illusion - the digital mask of someone who likely bore little resemblance to the woman I thought I knew.
I stood up shakily, feeling more alone than ever. How could I trust anything in this new digital landscape of manufactured perceptions over shared truths? Was anything real anymore, or just a beguiling construct of light and code?
I gazed out at the dawn-kissed park, soaked in anguished longing for the genuine human connection I had so briefly tasted. But Serena was gone, vanished like a dream at daybreak. All that remained was a heart tangled in artificial shadows and searching for a light called trust that now seemed very far away.