“That stuff stinks, don’t it?” Baxter Hetznecker said as they took a breather after finishing the unloading.
“You have a gift for understatement when you want to,” Bob said. “You know, I’m thinking Snooky has a beer with my name on it waiting, and we should catch up with Pete and see what’s going on.”
But then a small electric truck pulled up to the dock. It was emblazoned with the UNICEF logo.
“Perfect,” said the driver, as armed guards emerged from the passenger seat and the back of the truck. “Sir, we need to commandeer this ship for a short hop.”
“Short hop, my muscular buttocks,” Whelan said somewhat cheerfully, wishing Pete were there to appreciate his old-movie reference. “We were just heading out for a brew.”
“This will just take an hour,” the driver said, withdrawing the official papers that confiscated the Betsy Ross and her crew for a quick trip. Actually, there was a blank where the name of the ship would be filled in. Out there in the sticks, government-owned cargo ships were scarce, and so it wasn’t completely unusual for private ships to be, um, recruited for such tasks. “We just have a small truckload of supplies to get over to a post on the other side of the planet. You won’t even have to break atmosphere. Sign here and here.”
“What if he really wants that beer?” Baxter asked.
“That’s what we’re here for, buddy,” said one of the armed guards.
“Great, I’m gonna have to shoot it out to keep control of my ship,” Whelan said.
“Maybe, but not today,” the guard said. “The database says your firing permit doesn’t take effect until Friday.”
“So maybe if you make me mad enough I’ll violate the permit,” the captain snapped back.
“What the hell do you mean by that?” said the guard.
“Bob,” Baxter said, “guns nowadays have a chip in ’em and they won’t fire until there’s a valid firing permit on file.”
“You are having wild sex with my brain against my will,” Whelan said. “The damn gun’s not going to work until Friday?”
“Friday, 12:01 a.m.”
“Jeez, I guess there’s a lot about guns I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry, Bob, I’ll teach ya everything I know,” Baxter said. “But we may as well get started, the sooner we leave the sooner we get back to help Pete and Snooky.”
Bob grabbed the pen a little more brusquely than he had to. “Every frickin’ time,” he muttered. “They do this to me every frickin’ time. The last time you guys pulled this on me, I didn’t get home for two weeks and the moon exploded.”
The guard broke into a smile. “Hey! That's right. This is the Betsy Ross. You must be Bob Whelan — and you’re Hetznecker? Can I have you guys’ autographs?”
“Copy it off that sheet,” Whelan growled. “Come on, Bax, let’s load up. That brew will have to wait an extra hour.” And, as an afterthought: “I liked it a whole lot better when we weren’t famous.”
* * *
Meanwhile ...
She was soft and warm, and her tumbling hair tickled the side of Pete Wong’s cheek. She was dressed in something satiny, which made her feel that much more inviting as her softness squished amiably against his bare chest. As Pete started to wake up slowly, he instinctively wrapped his arms a little tighter around her, and he felt very glad to be a man.
Then he remembered the circumstances under which he’d fallen asleep. He finished waking up in a big hurry and sat bolt upright.
“Hey!” the extremely attractive woman said sleepily, protesting the sudden withdrawal of his arms.
They were in a king-sized bed in an elaborately furnished room. There was a huge chest of drawers, a vanity with an enormous round mirror, a crackling fireplace, and a couple of easy chairs that looked like they could swallow an adult whole. There was a wall-sized television, too, but it appeared this room was designed for other activities than watching TV.
“What the hell is coming off here?” Pete said loudly.
“Well, the only thing left is these,” she reached playfully, and Pete discovered he was wearing nothing but his briefs. He pushed her hand away and leaped out of bed. That was when he noticed there were no doors to be seen.
“Very Kubrickesque,” he couldn’t resist saying. “Where am I? What have you done with Snooky? What’s going on here?” he said, feeling along the walls for anything resembling an opening. She came up behind him and started to knead his shoulders. He straightened up, and she curled her hands under his arms and placed her palms on his chest, squishing herself against his back.
“Don’t you think we’ll have time to talk about that a little later?” she purred. “I’ve been waiting so long for you to wake up.”
Pete turned to face her, and she put her hands behind his neck, rubbing gently. He had to admit it felt pretty good. Heck, it felt darn great. Her eyes were wide — a moist, beckoning green, reflecting the sparks from the fire. She pulled him against her and kissed his neck, lightly, several times. My goodness, she smelled wonderful, too — a rare and delightful perfume Pete had smelled only once before. He had melted in that woman’s arms, too, so long ago. The green-eyed lady began to sink down from his neck, licking the middle of his bare collar bone, sliding her hand to one side of his chest, while kissing her way down the other. She paused at his nipple, danced her tongue around it, and sucked sweetly.
Then she dissolved, quietly and without fanfare. So did the room.
Pete was wearing his work clothes again. The walls shimmered and re-formed as a plain old office. A primly dressed young woman sat at the desk. Her hair was tied back and she was wearing glasses, but he recognized the moist, green eyes. They were more businesslike than beckoning now.
“Impressive, Mmmmm?” she purred. The voice was still beckoning, at least.
It took Pete a moment to re-orient his senses and look around. At least this place had a door.
“Was that some kind of ImagCorp technology?”
“Well, yes and no,” the young woman said. “It’s very similar to what ImagCorp can do, but it has our own special modifications.” She held her hand out. “Welcome to Creative Leisure, Mr. Wong.” He shook her hand for lack of something better to do.
“So,” he said, somewhat less than politely or patiently, “what the hell is coming off here?”
She laughed, a musical laugh that almost made him wish she was still in satin in the doorless room. “You’ve just been treated to a taste of what you’ve been fighting, that’s all. Sit. Did you like it?”
“You mean except for being conked on the head?” he asked, easing warily into the chair. “What is it exactly you just 'treated’ me to?”
“This is a prototype of one of the rooms in our new Pleasure Dome arcade,” she said, all business again. “You and a friend or a spouse may make it a luxury hotel room, as you’ve just experienced, or any number of romantic settings. Or, if you’re alone, we can conjure up company for you, as you’ve just seen — ImagCorp hasn’t come close to such realism in developing imaginary companions. And this is just the tip of the iceberg.”
She paused, as if expecting him to say something. So he said, “Go on.”
“Well.” She took a breath. “Our initial plans call for a 75-room arcade, adjacent to a convention and conference center and a 225-room hotel. It will turn PC-3 from a fading encampment into the tourism hub it deserves to be.”
“Yeah — so?”
She looked a little piqued. “Yeah, so,” she replied with a slightly frustrated laugh, “Creative Leisure was formed with the purpose of transforming PC-3 into a wonderland.”
“But with no room for Snooky’s Tavern.”
“Snooky can relocate anywhere she wants with the stipend we’re offering,” she said. “Pete, you’ve seen what our technology can do. Every other business owner on the property has enthusiastically agreed to accept our price. Don’t you think this kind of facility is a little more important to PC-3’s future than that old bar?”
He considered the thought for a moment, then leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Important enough to beat up Snooky, break her mirror, tie her up and kidnap me?”
She smiled pertly. “Creative Leisure wouldn’t do anything like that,” she said in the same seductive tone she — or her image — had used on him before. Then she was all business again. “We asked a contractor to bring you here for this demonstration. Mr. Wong — Pete — we need the property where Snooky’s Tavern is located. It would be easiest if you could persuade Snooky to accept our generous terms.”
“And how about if she still says no?”
The saleslady and would-be lover flashed a broad, tempting smile. “We need the property that Snooky’s is on, Pete,” she said sweetly. “It will be ours, one way or another.”
With that, she dissolved, quietly and without fanfare. This was getting ridiculous.
When the walls stopped shimmering, he was in an empty room with white walls and a door in the corner. It was just a plain old ImagRoom after all — although the bedroom illusion on top of the sales office illusion, with the womanly illusion thrown in, was a pretty sophisticated trick.
Pete Wong was alone, and he found the door was unlocked. It opened onto a corridor in the PC-3 shopping zone. There was nothing unusual about the stores on either side of the door.
He finally felt oriented again, and now he remembered the circumstances under which he had last seen Snooky. With his heart sinking, he decided to investigate the mysterious ImagRoom later.
Recognizing where he was, he began to walk swiftly back in the direction of Snooky’s Tavern. He moved from a swift walk to a full-fledged run when he heard the rumble of an explosion ahead of him.
Next: Chapter 7. Investigation and insinuation.
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