Chapter

16

KH5 adjusted her baseball cap, looked in the mirror, focused in on the Yankees logo, and then shrugged.  “It does nothing for the team.”

The Korean merchant shrugged back.  “Just baseball cap.  You want?”

KH5 looked in the mirror at the image of the frail man standing to her left.  He was obviously as old as she was, but with all the telltale signs of time behind him.  “You follow the Yankees?”

“Sell hats.”

“Mmm.  Okay.  How much again for that other one…”  She turned around and picked up another black cap with the Yankee emblem embroidered on the front.  “Twenty-one.  All hats with bumpy stitch, twenty-one.”

“Uh huh.  And…” she picked up the hat she had removed.  “This one, fifteen?”

“Fifteen.  Paint on picture.  Okay.  Which one?”

KH5 reached in her sweat pants and pulled out a roll of bills wound in a rubber band.  The Korean smiled, and then giggled as KH5 pealed off a twenty and a five.  “What?” she said.

“Just like bad guy in movies.  You woman.  Bad woman?”

KH5 smiled cynically and passed the bills to him.  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.  It’s 11:55. How about a special midnight discount?”

The Korean’s smile disappeared.  With stoic determination, he quickly gave her change and bowed.  “Enjoy hat.”

“Enjoy profit,” said KH5 as she made one final adjustment and strode out of the store onto West Broadway in Soho, still New York’s preeminent shopping block for people with money, and those who wished they had some.

She checked her watch and walked around the corner to the Lexus Coffee Shop.  As she entered, scanning about the booths modeled after the back seats of various vintage Lexus cars, all were full.  She glanced at the upstairs balcony where the mode of seating was the interior of a Lexus Private Jet, circa 2015.  She smiled as a man in dark glasses and a skin tight, fashionable skullcap nodded through a portal, smiled and opened his arms in a grand gesture of welcome.

As KH5 slid into the plush Kangaroo upholstered seat across from him, he rose, and grinned.  “Like the hat.”

“Hope so.  Sucker cost me twenty-one big ones.”

“Did you need it?”

“Of course not.”

“You just bought it so you could bitch at your old friend who hasn’t seen you in months and is a Mets fan?”

“Obviously.”  She leaned down and kissed him on the top of his head.  “Jesus, Quill.  Great disguise, but that slick-hair shit went out in the middle of the last century.”

“What?” he exclaimed with surprise.

“Vitalis, for Chrissake.  That ancient “last century” shit is seeping through your fuckin’ hat.  Can’t you do better than that?”

“Vintage plane, vintage costume and vintage grooming.  All in fun, eh?”

KH5 sat down and gazed at his jeans and white t-shirt.  “Got that right.  Last time I saw one of those on you was after you saw Dean in “Rebel without a Cause.”

“Jesus.  Am I that old?” said Quill with a feigned surprise.

“Yeah… we go back, don’t we?”

“Back.  Way back.”

“Memory isn’t what it used to be, eh?” she quipped.

“I’m fine, with a little help from some friends,” said Quill with a grin.

“Careful.  Even you can wear a good billion-load of bots out, you know.”

“I was merely trying to say it’s wonderful to see it all happening.”

“Well, unlike those physics labs forty years ago, bots don’t let us see it happening.  However, guess you’re satisfied with The Godard so far, or you wouldn’t have asked me to coffee with you.  You’ve been very neglectful, you know.”

“Old friends don’t need to apologize.  Now… something with your coffee?”

“Some Courvoisier would be tasty, don’t you think?”

“I was thinking of biscuits, but…”

“But, you knew I’d BMOB.”  She reached in her butt pack and pulled out a flask.  “Well, are you gonna order or do I have to do that too?”

Quill smiled, shook his head and motioned for a waiter.  “You never change, do you?”

“You made sure of my changes.  Booze wasn’t an option.”

“Yes.  One must have some pleasures, yes?  You really must try the updated version of VR soon, though.”

“And look as old as you?”  She laughed. “Well, at least you haven’t lost all your senses.”

“Senses?”

“Thanks for your suggestion, instead of demanding.  I’m too old for that new VR stuff, you know.”

“Oh, please.  Do I look too old for VR?”

“You, my friend, look ridiculous… but cute for an old fuck.  Your waiter thinks so too.”

“Sir?”  said the spindly hawk like figure standing at his side, pen in hand. 

“We’ll have a carafe of Persian Black, goat’s milk, and some tornado sugar please.”

“Right away, Sir.  Like the cologne.  May I ask the name?”

KH5 started laughing.  “Oh, you really don’t want to know, pal, does he, sweetie?”

“She’s being sarcastic.  It’s Vitalis, and it’s not available any longer,” said Quill. 

“Pity.  It is quite nice, you know.  I’ll be right back.”

KH5 opened her flask, took a gulp of libation, and pulled her legs up underneath her, eyeing the flask and placing it on the table.  “Thank god for small favors.  So, what do I owe this unexpected visit to?”

Quill took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and quietly.  “What if I made a mistake?”

***

 “Oh, my God… I can’t believe this,” said Marsha, touching the soft leather seats and inhaling the scent of luxury.

Urian peered over the top of the clear-glass roof, then opened the door and slid into the second passenger lounger, rotated it to face Marsha, and then instructed the driverless control to proceed.  Appearing like a sculpture in mercury with its mother of pearl like swirls beginning to modify in shape, the state-of-the-art robot smoothly turned the sleek luxury sedan eastward and proceeded down the driveway and onto the winding canyon roads of Malibu.  

“This isn’t anything like I thought,” said Marsha.

“The first VR never is.  And especially with a museum-piece like driver.  Not easy getting used to just thinking up your pleasure and bam, there you are for real… Neat, eh?”

As they reached the highway, “And this vehicle actually flies?”

“Concept cars are sometimes hyped, you know, but that’s what they say.”

“What?” exclaimed Marsha, her eyes darting about the windows.  “What they ‘say’?”

“Quill wouldn’t risk us if it weren’t safe.”  He turned to the robot.  Air, Javier.  About two hundred to start.”

“Yes, sir,” said Javier, the driver.

The car became airborne, rose to several hundred feet and jettisoned forward without any change in the passenger comfort.  “Like it?” asked Urian.

Marsha’s face turned sad.  “I miss you.”

“I’m here, honey.  See?”  He reached out and touched her.

Marsha allowed the shiver to subside, and then slowly put her hand on his.  “It’s beyond my scope.  You have me swallow some juice and I realize this?  Overwhelming.”

Urian smiled.  “Don’t want you to OD but check out the windows.” 

She looked up and watched the scenery change from the skies of California to the Alps of Switzerland.  “Unbelievable.”

“That’s my choice.  What’s yours?” said Urian.

“Just like that?  Just make a choice?”

“Just like that.”

Marsha thought a few moments as the windows went through a kaleidoscope of scenery changes that finally came to a rest on a grotto where thousands of multicolored fish swarmed all around the vehicle.  “Oh, my God!  Like a submarine.  Incredible.”

“At two hundred miles an hour, no less,” quipped Urian.  He took her in his arms.  “We haven’t been back there diving since the honeymoon.  Why now?”

She kissed him long and tender.  “Why not?  We’re headed for a houseboat, you conjured up.  So, I''m just getting in the water mood.”  She kissed him again, and the two of them reclined in their chairs.  The windows continued to portray the underwater spectacular, filling their senses with anticipation.

The reflected ripples of the lake moved gracefully up the sheer walls of the canyon.  With Javier now at the helm of a hydrofoil houseboat—looking more like a space-age pyramid than a sea vessel—the layers of onyx-like material skimmed the surface silently and without effort.  The waters of Lake Powell began to absorb the deep purples and reds of a Nevada sunset as Marsha and Urian stood on the deck listening to the quiet sounds of an Indian flute from the disc player, a prelude to what was about to turn into a symphony of virtual pleasures.  The long-awaited reuniting of the two lovers had begun in a dreamland.  Little did they know; their sense of love was about to be tested like two specimens under a microscope.