Isabella strolls along the park path. A light autumn breeze caresses her hair and ripples through the tree branches, which let their leaves fall. She studies the face of the man who will become her husband. An elongated nose, angular features, lean cheeks, slightly tousled brown hair, intense eyes with just a touch of madness to them. I could do worse.
“He's a programmer: he works in a small company that works as a subcontractor for video game and virtual reality projects,” the voice adds. “Mario helps develop artificial intelligence. His profile identifies him as an Alpha resource for DataCom projects. We must act quickly: you need to meet him tonight. Tonight he'll be a bar with his boss, Roberto. Start studying the attitudinal notes immediately.”
The image of Mario disappears, replaced by a list of information on his life. Isabella sits down on a bench and starts reading: personal tastes, acquaintances, hobbies, friends, intimate details. The woman studies it, writing down everything she finds useful. She asks the device a few questions, and it answers with clear, efficient responses.
Isabella leaves the park and makes her way to a neighborhood full of shops. She buys only the types of clothes that Mario is known to admire on a woman. After a long session in a beauty salon, she sports bright yet discrete makeup, and a slightly wavy, warm chestnut hairdo that grazes the tops of her shoulders. Lucky for me, he's not into blondes. She runs home to take care of the last few preparations.
“Hello, woman of Mario Orsini's dreams”, she says, pleased, looking at herself in the large mirror in her room.“Your image corresponds ninety-seven percent to Mario's tastes,” confirms the smartphone. That brainiac is going to like me a lot more than just ninety-seven percent, she thinks mischievously.