Read Strange Future: A 23rd Century Guide for the 21st Century Cynic Page 26


  Chapter 26

  "Call Taxico," Darin said.

  "I'm so hungry," Vera said, drawing out the "o" on "so" to emphasize her point.

  "Five," Darin said, walking away from the conversation.

  "I'm pretty excited about this," Thomas said, "I've never been outside of North America to begin with, and I always heard London had some of the best Indian food you could get short of India itself."

  "Van," Darin was heard to say from a distance.

  "I've heard that too," Lyla said, "I guess we're about to find out if that's true or not."

  "OK, the cab is on the way," Darin told the group as he walked back. "What's up?"

  "We're just discussing the--hopefully--delicious food we're about to eat," Vera replied.

  "I see," Darin said, "well the taxi should be here soon." Just then, like clockwork, the taxi swooped out of the sky and landed on the street in front of them.

  "Greetings!" the voice said as they entered the cab, "and where can I take you marvelous people on this wonderful evening?"

  "Talik's restaurant!" shouted Vera.

  "Thank you so much! Please wait while I search for that!"

  "Why is this one so happy?" Thomas asked.

  "They have a lot of different voices and phrases they use for the cabs so that it makes it seem like all of them have a unique personality," Darin said.

  "A happy taxi driver," Thomas muttered, "only in the future..."

  "Talik's Restaurant," continued the computer, "featuring Indian cuisine. Is that what you meant?"

  "Yes," Vera responded.

  "Thank you! The cost for your trip will be 36.50."

  "Oh, uh, accept," Vera said, seeing the payment confirmation notice for the first time.

  "Great! Thank you so much! I'll phone ahead to let them know a party of five will be arriving soon!" The taxi skimmed up through the air and they dashed between other cars and cabs in what appeared to be a haphazard manner. In reality, it was a beautifully choreographed scene. Vehicles dipped and weaved together, all in harmony despite their differences in destinations. The computerized navigation systems and removal of the barrier of height allowed medium distance travel to be done in a safer and more efficient way than ever before.

  "Hey, we're nearly there!" Darin said, pointing to the map displayed on the dash. The yellow dot that was, presumably, their cab was approaching a green star on the map. Sure enough, the taxi began to drop in altitude and finally came to rest above the street outside of a small, quaint looking restaurant. The sign on the awning simply said "Talik's", and nothing else. The street they were on was quiet, but not entirely desolate. A few people could be seen milling about near dark alleyways, and the street lights were just beginning to come on. The other businesses on the street that were starting to open did not appear to be the kind you would typically walk blindly into without intimately knowing the bouncer, owner, or both.

  "You sure about this Darin?" Lyla asked, nervously looking behind her as the taxi took off.

  "Oh come on, it can't be too bad, there's places that are worse back home that we've been to."

  "But that's back home! We're thousands of miles from home now!"

  "Just relax. We'll just check it out and call a taxi if we need to get out of here." They approached the door, pulled it, and walked in as it gave way. A man addressed them in a strange language, and the implant's translation function kicked in.

  "Hello and welcome with Talik's! Please, do you sit, you?"

  "Yes, thank you!" Darin said.

  "Please to follow me!" The man grabbed a stack of menus and beckoned them to follow. They didn't have to go far, however, as the restaurant did not have an abundance of tables. They were seated in a rear corner near the door to the kitchen. Only a few other people were present and looked like regulars. The atmosphere leaved much to be desired. This was very much due to the fact that the atmosphere was, frankly, nonexistent. The tables and chairs didn't match, half the chairs were wobbly, and the décor was incredibly sparse. The menu, however, peaked their appetites nearly immediately. The list of dishes was vast and the descriptions were equally tantalizing.

  "Your waiter will here come soon!" The man left the group drooling over their menus. Moments later, a waiter approached and poured out water for each of them.

  "Can I begin you with something to drink?" he asked.

  "Can I get some chai tea?" Vera asked.

  "I'll just have water." Thomas said.

  "Same," said Doug.

  "I'd like some lassi," Darin said.

  "Can I get mango lassi?" Lyla asked.

  "Excellent! Do we ready to order food then?"

  "YES!" Vera said, ravenous with hunger. "I want the curry sampler!"

  "Oh, um," Thomas stammered, still undecided, "I guess I'll take the Rogan Josh."

  "I'll have the butter chicken."

  "I just want the traditional chicken curry."

  "I'd like karai gosht," Lyla said, "and can we get an order of naan for the table?"

  "Yes, yes, good choice, I will be well behind with naan." The waiter returned briefly with their drinks, a large plate filled with naan, and a container of makhani palak saag. The group eagerly ate the first plate of naan and ordered a second. The waiter brought it out and, moments later, brought out their food as well. The way the group devoured their food made it appear to the waiter that they had been stranded on a desert island for several weeks with a healthy stock of canned goods, but no can opener. In reality they were all just enjoying some of the best Indian food any of them had ever had. Moments later, the waiter had a very healthy tip, the bill was paid and the group was back on the street, waiting on the taxi.

  "We have GOT to go back there again before we leave," Vera said, bloated and happy. Before long, the group arrived back at the hotel and made their plans for sightseeing the next day.

  "So," Lyla said as they looked at the brochures spread in front of them. "We can go to the International House any time between nine and five, but sessions are in progress only between ten and three, with a three hour break for lunch that begins at eleven. So, if you want to see the government in action, we'll have to get there before eleven or just after three."

  "Glad to know politicians are productive as ever," Thomas quipped.

  "We can go in while it's in session?" Doug asked.

  "Hmmm, no," Lyla said, "but we can watch from an observation room overlooking the chambers."

  "I really want to see them in action," Vera said, "so can we just try to arrive there around ten and hopefully get up to the room before it's full?"

  "Yeah, definitely!" Lyla said. "I'm really excited about this, actually, I've never been to any government function, so this will be a first for me too!"

  "Anything else we want to see?" Darin asked.

  "How about Big Ben?" Thomas suggested.

  "Oh, yes, that's an excellent idea Thomas!" Vera said happily. Thomas couldn't figure out why she was being so prim and proper, but decided that he liked it and resolved to suggest Indian food more often.

  "Why do we need a strict plan? We haven't had one yet, and it's been working for us pretty well so far," Doug said.

  "I agree," Darin said quickly, "let's just go with the flow and see what happens."

  "OK," conceded Lyla, "I'm up for that, as long as we can at least get to the International House around ten to make sure we see the government in action."

  "So let's say we wake up and meet in the lobby for breakfast around 8:30?" Darin suggested.

  "Sounds good to me," said Vera. "Now if you'll excuse me," she said, standing, "I believe there is a spa that is calling my name."

  "Oh yeah, me too!" Lyla said, jumping up and following her out.

  "I guess I'm going to the workout room then," Doug said.

  "Hey, I'll join you!" Darin shouted as Doug left, chasing after him. Thomas sat in the room alone.

  "Hey, I think I'll just stay right here!" Thomas muttered begrudgingly. "That sounds great! I'll
join you," he mocked. He sat looking around the room, trying to see if there was anything of interest. He spotted the brochures on the bed and picked a few up to leaf through. There is a strange thing about travel brochures. Somehow, they always manage to feature pictures that highlight the attraction in question from the best possible angle with the best possible lighting on a day where the weather is perfect. It causes the reader to see it and think, "wow, what a wonderful picture! I want to visit this and get the same picture so I can go home and show my friends what a great photographer I am and what wonderful sights I saw!"

  Upon arriving home and reviewing the pictures, however, they will inevitably discover one of two things, depending on the type of camera they used. If they used a film camera, all of the pictures will be either underexposed, overexposed, or have a random person that walked into the frame at the perfect moment to ruin the picture. If they used a digital camera, however, all of the pictures will be blurry, out of focus, poorly lit, or any combination of the three.

  Thomas threw the brochures aside, thought about turning the television on, but immediately thought better of it and decided to take a walk instead. He walked down the corridor towards the elevators, thought about how creepy it was to have an elevator talk to you, and opted to take the stairs instead. He pushed open the rarely used door and started to descend the stairs. As he went he wondered why so many things were controlled by voice commands. His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden realization that he was only on the sixty-fifth floor, and there was no way he was going to walk down sixty-four more flights of stairs. He exited the stairwell and made his way to the elevator.

  "Hi!" said the elevator as he entered. "Where are your friends?"

  "What? Oh, I don't know, I think they're all in the lobby."

  "Is that where you're going?"

  "Yes, please ... thanks."

  "No problem!" The elevator whisked him down to the lobby and said a pleasant goodbye as he left. He passed by the front desk where a new woman was now behind the counter. She looked at him quizzically, but he just kept walking. Finally he tasted fresh air as he walked out onto the streets. The hotel was, fortunately, in a very nice area of town, so Thomas was able to have an enjoyable walk without worrying about axe murderers coming out of the shadows. He really had no cause to worry about that to begin with. Two-hundred years had basically made axes completely obsolete, but of course, Thomas didn't know this.

  He walked down the street, passing statues and historic buildings. People waited in queues in an attempt to gain access to some of the most exclusive clubs in town. Couples who had apparently just left these clubs cuddled on benches while waiting for their taxis to arrive. As he walked, Thomas observed these couples. So incredibly different from a physical standpoint, and yet, they seemed so happy together. The impossibly tall man with the petite woman by his side, the average looking Joe sitting with the woman with extremely loud clothing and equally loud pink hair. Pink hair...

  Thomas kept walking, coming to a bridge over the Thames. He looked out over the river, watching the timed, colorfully lit water jets that had apparently been installed sometime in the last two-hundred years. Happy couples continued to walk by behind him, laughing and talking, having the time of their life. Thomas felt utterly, dismally alone. He sighed, turned around, and made his way back to the hotel.

  "68th floor," he told the elevator, cutting off the question that was bound to be asked. Sensing his mood by his demeanor and tone of voice, the elevator remained silent. Thomas walked back down the corridor to his room, passing the girl's room along the way. He stopped and turned around, staring, thinking. He knew it would never happen, and yet, he felt like he had to at least try. He walked up and stood in front of the door. The latch clicked upon recognizing him, but he knocked quietly anyhow, not knowing who was present, whether they were awake or not, and perhaps most importantly, whether they were clothed or not.

  "Come in!" Lyla shouted from inside. Thomas entered, slowly. Lyla was standing in front of the mirror, towel still wrapped around her from the spa, futzing with her perfectly pink hair... "Oh, it's you," she said, turning slightly but unabashed. "What's up?" she asked.

  "Where's Vera?" Thomas asked.

  "Oh," Lyla said, rolling her eyes, "she's still down there. We got to the spa and there were only two people left on duty, some big, German looking chick and this other guy. She claimed the guy immediately, and when I left, she was still getting massaged and they were discussing the weather. Ha!" she laughed scornfully.

  "Oh, I see," Thomas said. He walked over to the bed and sat down. Lyla stood there, still staring in the mirror and messing with her hair, but observing Thomas all the while from the corner of her eye.

  "Something wrong?" she asked.

  "Oh, nothing in particular, I just got back from taking a rather long walk."

  "Ah. See anything interesting?"

  "Well, there were quite a few interesting sights, but I couldn't help but notice all the couples sitting on the benches along the way. It just makes you feel ... alone, you know?"

  "Oh," Lyla said, turning away from the mirror, facing him.

  "Yeah," Thomas said, rising from the bed and moving towards her. "I kept seeing these people, you know, having the time of their lives with a significant other. And here I am, with no one... Then I saw this couple that was rather interesting... The man was just your average Joe, kinda like me, you know? But the woman... she had the most fantastically pink hair..."

  "Oh?" said Lyla, drawing closer to him.

  "And all I could think about was you..."

  "Is that so?" Lyla said quietly, grabbing his hand and holding it in hers.

  "And after that, the whole walk back, the one thing I kept asking myself..."

  "Yes?"

  "Was..."

  "Yes?"

  "Why pink?" Lyla seemed taken aback for a second, then smiled.

  "Come here!" she breathed, pulling him close. They embraced.