Sorry for making you all wait for the next installment, been busy volunteering at Mom’s office.-SR
My eyes open at 1:01pm. I don’t get off the couch until 1:05. I spent most of the morning writing after I got home from closing the bar.
I walk to the window and press it. As I incline the window downwards, the opaque obsidian tint progressively allows more light through until It becomes completely transparent.My window angles down towards a series of rooftop gardens in Sai Ying Pun. On one rooftop, a nice old Irish lady grows flowers to sell . On a series of other rooftops, An extended Persian family grows beans and spices for their chain of falafel stands that dot the general Hong Kong area
I sit back on the couch and pick up my notebook from the coffee table. It has a paper clip in it attaching a card to a page. It must be Farah’s card. I open the notebook to the clipped page.
That’s odd. Did I really write Farah into my book? Writing people whom you know into fiction is such a self-indulgent thing to do. I looked to the clipped card. The little scribble “Think of me next time you’re in the stall” is facing me. I guess I placed it that way to remind myself that I had permission to indulge in her, even if it wasn’t the way she expected.
Burgundy. I’ll probably see that color everywhere from now on. Burgundy dragons swimming around Hennessey during the Chinese New Year. Burgundy ferries cruising back and forth along the strait separating the island from the mainland. Burgundy taxis landing on rooftops in a way that looks like boxy hummingbirds pollinating flowers.
It’s going to be a couple hours before the offices usually close. Seasoned VM employees usually show up at Curitiba-R around 7:30 to 8:00 pm.This suggests they get off at five, commute to home in fifteen minutes, change into casual and call friends for an hour or two, walk to board the MTR which completes it’s Island Line every fifteen minutes, walk from the Wan Chai stop back to VM Tower on Lockhart and Tonnochy, grab something to eat at VM Plaza’s food court right above Curitiba-R, and finally pay admission to get in. I’ll call Farah at quarter after five.
I haven’t eaten anything today. I log into my holographic terminal on the table and order Chow-Chow Dosas from Bengal Diner. Stuff at Bengal Diner is not as spicy as the food in Changsha Cuisine in Admiralty. Last time I was there, I got a dehydration-induced hallucination. I would describe Bengal Diner’s food as more generic, chili-powder spicy.
Back on the couch, I push a button on the case, undoing the latches holding it shut. I pick up the hot noodley dosa and….wait a second? Is that a bug? A glowing, radioactive bug on my dosa? It looks suspiciously like…Oh that’s just great. I left the HCPU on and connected to the feeds too long, and the holo-adware entrenched in my terminal projected a bug on my dosa. I shut off the terminal determined to scan it later. That type of adware is harder to clean up than if there were an actual bug on my food.
As I finish the satisfying and bug-free dosa. I try to remind myself why I want to call Farah a day after I met her.I guess it’s because business people like her are very fast paced. I am sure because of how quickly she arrived and left the bar last night. If I don’t take this opportunity, Farah will forget me among the corporate hustle, and all I will have to remember her by is false hope and regret colored in burgundy.
It’s going to be a couple hours before the offices close. I turn on the terminal again and start up the holoware scanner.The program finds and kills thirty intrusive wares including the 飞虫擭 program that broadcasted the bug on my lunch.
I surf the feeds for news and interesting programs. The Party’s CCF English is hosting a marathon of antique episodes of a travel documentary enhanced from NTSC to holo. It’s probably for the channel’s educational program quota. Sometime into the program, the traveling hostess is reapplying bovine feces to an old rural wall. With a girly giggle, she exclaims in English “I am putting bullshit on the wall!” What?! They could say bullshit on Chinese TV back then? It seems more liberated than it’s contemporaries in American television.
Sepiasia feed is hosting an Indian movie titled Atma Aavarna Main. The synopsis in the holo’s profile browser describes ” Abisheik Sen, Daria Khan, A departed soul reincarnated as a robot searches for the beloved she left behind(2045)”. Good choice. This should kill a couple hours.
Interesting film. I wonder who is in that costume for K4J01_. The android’s face is a white theater mask with a golden jewel above and between it’s eyebrows painted in black . It’s lips are colored a gothic shade of blue. I guess it’s lack of expression is supposed to make a point. K4J01_’s voice is fully toned with android-like monotone feedback. There is no voice feedback for K4J01_ during the song numbers. The songs are also odd because they take place in some Asiatic steppe hundreds of miles away from Neo Delhi.
Whew! That was quite a long movie. The terminal says the time is 5:13pm. I pick up a small device about the width and length of my thumb and summon the holographic keypad from inside. I pull out Farah’s card from the clip and notebook and glance at the number. It’s showtime, or close enough.