San Francisco, California - August 1967
She leaves work late, as per usual. The data centre is slowing down for the day, and it's Scott who has the later shift. He will be working until 8 pm, settling out the last bit of data for the day. He was young, Cosima thinks. And maybe better suited to hardware than programming, but there's no sense not helping him along.
Cosima readies herself to go, her high heels clack against the floor. The system has not only core storage, but the 2314 stored pretty much anything they could throw at it. It was meticulous work, but consuming enough she could stay busy. At least they threw different work at her occasionally. Calculations. Staffing. All things she could use to maintain her value as an employee.
"Cosima… can you fix this? Or is this a hardware issue?" Scott looks over from the computer. An IBM 360, with all its punchcards and tape and COBOL. Things Cosima knows well by now. Things she works with every day. Things she trained to work in after university, hoping to secure herself a sufficient income to avoid the marriage her parents once thought a necessity. And it was working, Cosima knew that. She could pay her own rent. Live here, just far enough away from her parents to be free to be.
"Nope." Cosima briefly takes a look at the printout. "This isn't a hardware issue. It's software." Cosima is certain that is the mistake her coworker made. "Look again, you've misentered this bit here."
"Oh yeah." Scott looks at it again. "Sorry, I guess I am too used to working in Fortran."
"This is a commercial application, Scotty." Cosima shrugs, hoping she does not sound too affectionate. That will lead to more problems she doesn't need. "COBOL. Everything in the bank runs COBOL… except the System 35 in the branches and offices - those run on ASCII… We're starting to use that too… you can see it in the output."
"I'll get the hang of it." Scott bumbles. He is the cleanest cut youth Cosima has seen in a while coming out of a university. He was brand new on the job. As green as they come. Part of Cosima wonders if he's cut his hair to take this job. Then again, working in a bank wasn't exactly a good way to stick it to the man.
"You will. This is just… staff scheduling. The results should be done within an hour." Cosima agrees. "Don't forget to run the report upstairs to Betty."
"I won't." Scott agrees.
"And now… I must go." Cosima smiles, her weekends are hers. And she fully intends to enjoy it before Monday morning brings her back here. She goes up the stairs herself, the bank branch is quiet, just closing down. She won't have to deal with too many people. Scott may not have the nerve to make a move on her, but unfortunately, the junior manager had no such qualms.
"Cosima! I was waiting to see you." Fred calls her on her way out the door. He's waiting around, likely to see her.
"Goodnight Fred." Cosima waves, and keeps walking. She's not sure why he's decided to pursue her. Cosima has made an effort to appear spinster-ish and uninteresting at work for many reasons. She always wears her glasses to work, her hair is braided back simply and non-provocatively. She wears sensible yet feminine clothes. She doesn't understand the attraction, but maybe she doesn't have to.
"So do you… want to go see a movie? Thoroughly Modern Millie is supposed to be very good." The young man tries again. Cosima thinks he must be about 30, and unmarried. A bachelor looking for a girlfriend. Or a wife. Probably. Cosima doesn't think he looks like one of the free love crowd.
"I'm a career woman." Cosima quips with a smile. "A dedicated spinster."
"I might be able to change your mind." Fred tries again. "I don't mind a girl who has a job. Gets her out of the house. Expands her mind. It's good for a woman."
"That's very kind. But no thank you." Cosima swans past him, ignoring his repeated meek protests. Fred is a problem, Cosima thinks. Especially as he gets more and more enthused about pursuing her company in private. She's tried to turn him off. Sharing her real, rather German surname and admitting what it was didn't work.
She makes her way home via the streetcars, back to the Mission District where she rents a small apartment. It's her second apartment, and the first she's ever had all too herself. It's small, but functional. And affordable. And her salary was quite decent, Cosima thinks. There's nothing wrong with it.
She undoes her hair and changes into more stylish garments. A paisley dress, boots. She decides to walk. San Francisco, particularly Haight-Ashbury, had been crazy lately. And as much as Cosima knew it was dangerous. Crime had been up. There were tens of thousands more people than the city could really accommodate. It was interesting, and her curious mind kept wanting to see what would happen with all these hippies, or hippie wannabes laying in parks and getting high.
She doesn't have any place to be, Cosima thinks. And among the unwashed denizens of Haight-Ashbury, the police and the photographers she wanders through the neighhourhood. She looks too clean to be one of them, really. Cosima thinks. But many of them were sleeping in overcrowded houses or parks. And free love probably has them spreading as much VD as affection or pleasure. Usually she walks through Buena Vista, but today opts to go through the Panhandle. And sure, she might still witness bad LSD trips or public sex, but those were the risks. At least the neighbourhood was diverse enough no one really paid attention to another homosexual. Especially with the huge numbers of hippies. Hippies who really should be starting to leave.
A man sits singing and playing guitar, the closest people appear to be dancing and singing along, enjoying it. She smirks at the guitar player in the park, and a sea of people lying down. Their clothes brightly coloured but dirty, for the most part. The men are mostly bearded, mostly barefoot. But as she gets further from the park, people seem to be sleeping, or high, or both. There's shouting, there's thieving. And there's drugs. They smell of sweat, and incense. And Cosima wants to see how this moment in time plays out. What happens to all these hippies. And how they change the fabric of the city, even temporarily.
One man she sees laying down with flowers strewn through his short beard. He looks like he still has some more hippification to come, like he's new. His eyes are shut, and he looks like he's tripping on something. The woman beside him looks entirely tense and miserable, and Cosima stops, intrigued. Usually those hippie chicks are high on something, or threading flowers through their dirty hair and grinning. Else they're high as kites. This woman appears to be neither. She's a fox, certainly, Cosima thinks, probably more so when she's clean. But she's out of place.
And she's pretty. Cosima notices immediately, even if she wished she hadn't. Delicate features, hair that looks like it's wavy, or maybe even curly if it's gone a week without wetting it. Her jaw is clamped tightly and the man beside her draws a blunt slowly to his lips taking a long drag.
Marjuana was definitely worth coming down here to get, Cosima thinks with a smile. But before she can leave the scene to seek out her usual supplier, the woman suddenly sits up. Dyed blond hair falls to her shoulders and her knees pull up to her chest.
"Babe.. just chill out… here." The man holds out the blunt to her without opening his eyes, and the woman takes it, taking only a small drag before handing it back. And Cosima wonders if maybe some of the people here were just following lovers. This girl has square written all over her. Or not.. There's something off. That much is certain.
The woman speaks softly to the man beside her, who takes another drag and laughs. The words sound almost accented, but Cosima cannot quite pick them out. She sits up and crawls closer to the sidewalk, grabbing what is a worn pair of sandals off the ground. This blonde is a curiosity, Cosima decides. Wondering if the cause of her apparent misery was similar to Cosima's own. Deciding it is worth a shot, Cosima approaches.
"Hey… are you OK?" Cosima stops when she passes by the woman. She seems surprised when Cosima talks to her, but looks up at her anyway. Maybe she thinks Cosima wants to give her food. Cosima could, but she's not in the habit of feeding people here. There are plenty of community agencies wanting to attack the hippie nuisance. Especially this summer.
"Yes." The woman nods, dyed blonde hair bouncing. "I am just… here with my boyfriend." She gestures towards the man laid back in the grass. Now he's groaning softly, mouth open. And Cosima is certain it isn't just pot. The accent is easily placed - French, and that adds more questions in Cosima's mind. What is a Frenchwoman doing here? Nevermind with some American hippie.
"He's… high?"
She nods quickly. "Michael is very interested in expanding his relationship with the universe and nature." This response seems well practiced. And Cosima wonders how much of it this woman believes.
"My name is Jack now. I told you, baby." The man mumbles, clearly hearing at least some of the conversation.
"Do you want to take a walk? What's your name?" Spontaneous or otherwise, it would make her Friday more interesting. Maybe feeding a hippie wasn't the worst thing she could do.
"Euhh… Delphine. Delphine Cormier." The woman answers her, looking up a little confused.
"I'm Cosima… Come on, out of the park and around the block. He'll…. Be fine. Everyone is stoned." Cosima waves an arm around at the masses of people just laying down in the park. The whole city has exploded this summer, there aren't enough places for all these… hippies to go. But the woman in front of her doesn't quite seem to fit. She's too sober, for one, Cosima thinks.
"OK." Delphine agrees reluctantly. And turns to her boyfriend. "I am going to take a walk, mon chou. I will be right back."
"OK baby…" The man mumbles. "Go connect with the love."
"OK." Delphine echoes, standing up and climbing over the people laid in the park. Some are clearly on the verge of copulating, but no doubt she's used to witnessing that hanging with this crowd.
"So… what brings you to San Francisco?" Cosima teases her a little, wondering how she'll take it. Wondering who this stranger is.
"My boyfriend. His real name is… Michael David Jones Jr. He's… supposed to be starting his residency in September. Instead… we are here for the summer of love." Delphine says this in an odd tone, she's clearly not comfortable.
"Woah… So he's a doctor?" Cosima shakes her head. Though in reality, supposedly as many privileged kids make their way out here in cars and buses as middle-class ones. And no doubt have to call on their parents for wire-transfers to help survive.
"He was supposed to be." Delphine responds a little stiffly. Even as she falls into place walking next to her.
"And instead you get… Jack. Tripping on something outta sight in the Panhandle." Cosima laughs. "Is… is that what has you all...uptight?"
"I am not uptight." Delphine retorts. And she looks the part, Cosima thinks. The long flowy skirt and cropped top, the grunginess. But she's not what she seems.
"Hey… you just… you're out of place. You know? I've felt that way too." Cosima is beginning to think it is for very different reasons. But this girl seems to need a rescuer, or at least a reality check. Maybe what she needs is a kind stranger to buy her a greyhound ticket back east. Cosima could be that, she thinks. But she is too curious to offer that right off the bat. Losing a hundred bucks to a beautiful stranger probably wasn't wise either. But it wouldn't be the first time.
"I am." Delphine acknowledges slowly. "I have only been in the United States for… two years."
"Oh so you're French-French."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Just that… you are very out of place." Cosima shrugs. "Like, sure your old man is a hippie, but… you're not. Are you?"
A couple minutes of silence follow before Delphine turns to face her. "You seem… excuse the term, quite sane. And clean. Despite… dressing like…"
"A hippie?" Cosima subs in helpfully with a smile. "I am… Well sort of, I am employed. I mean… I have a job . I live here. In San Francisco. I didn't invade with the thousands of people we don't really have room for here."
"So you're not with the make love not money crowd?" Delphine looks over. "I mean… I am all for the ' fait l'amour pas la guerre ' but this… this is too much." She looks surprised by her own honesty, and Cosima is far too curious now to offer the girl a greyhound ticket out of here.
"No. I need to make a living. Though I've gone to protest the war, more than once." Cosima laughs. "And I am totally for making love, in general." She has no interest in the kind of love making this woman is clearly used to. But there's no need to disclose that.
"So… why are you here?" Delphine looks around. "Are you from here?"
"I was born in the Bay Area, here in California…My parents aren't too far from here." Cosima waves hand vaguely in a direction she hopes is northwest. "As for being here… Ever heard of the Daughters of Bilitis? The Ladder?" Cosima throws it out hopefully, hoping this beautiful woman gets the picture. She knows too well these conversations can go very badly. Even here.
Delphine shakes her head confused. "Non… what is that?"
"Nevermind." Cosima shakes her head, no sense opening up that can of worms. "Have you ever heard of COBOL? Programming? Computers?" She assumes Delphine won't know much, aside from articles in magazines that used to advertise this work for women. And now… more and more men flock to the industry.
"Uhh…not really. Like the women using computers during the war?"
"Sort of." Cosima nods encouragingly. "I work programming, I'm what they call a computer girl. I make the computer do… whatever it is they want me to do."
"And where do you work, Cosima?"
"A bank." Cosima lowers her voice. "I do not go in dressed like this. Just to be very clear."
Delphine blinks for a few uncomfortable moments. "You… are not what you seem either."
"Some people aren't." Cosima shrugs. "Hey… let me at least like… buy you a sandwich." She thinks Delphine looks a little underfed. Not unusual with her crowd. And she can do that much. Before Delphine vanished back to… Jack and the rest of the sea of people who are just starting to disperse.
"Alright." Delphine agrees. "I… I could use the company. I could definitely use a friend in the… brave new world."
Cosima laughs at that. "Aldous Huxley?" She catches the reference quickly.
"I read Michael's friend's copy. I have been… quite bored." Delphine admits. "I… I haven't done much but read or… be with Michael."
"More intellectual stimulation required. I can be of service." Cosima looks at her. "I am university educated."
"I'm a doctor… in France." Delphine states very quietly. "Not here though… not yet."
"OK, Delphine. You've got a story… and I want to hear it." Cosima tells her, leading her to a local café run by people who are basically hippies themselves. "A story for a sandwich."
Cal is behind the counter, and despite his beard and longish hair, he is clean. And happily serving people. Though he turns away everyone who cannot pay. And who can blame him? His business has to survive.
"A story for a sandwich…" Delphine echoes her. "All of it true?"
"Preferably." Cosima quips, and quickly orders her one. As well as one for herself. She may not have anywhere to go tonight. But she's got company. For now anyway. And perhaps… everything else will fall into place.
"Where should I start?" Delphine asks, eyeing her sandwich as it is quickly made and handed to her on a plate.
"Anywhere. France. Michael David Jones Jr. You both trekking out here on a bus full of hippies." Cosima takes a seat and pushes the sandwich towards Delphine. "Do you want coffee? Should I get you one of those too?"
"We didn't take a bus." Delphine speaks and then hungrily bites her sandwich. "We drove. In his Mustang."
"And then what?" Cosima looks across curiously.
"Everything else." Delphine shakes her head. Her eyes widen and Cosima can tell she's considering just what to tell her.
"That bad?"
"Sometimes." Delphine admits. "Some of it... some of it was good. But... not what I planned."
"What did you plan?" Cosima asks as Cal puts another sandwich in front of her. And he looks at her wondering just what she's up to no doubt. And it wouldn't be the first time, Cosima thinks. But this... this is different. Delphine isn't some hippie chick looking to expand her horizons while taking psychedelics.
Delphine pauses for a long time before she responds. She takes another bite of sandwich and eyes Cosima carefully across the table before responding. "I... I wanted to get married."