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The Ice Planet, again, they love me here. I am prossed up as, guess what? Nobody. That's right I am in my own skin playing Joe Coolz. Artie is on sax's and Zeno on Bass. It's a similar line up to the Bill Evans, Eddie Gomez, Getz line up. Artie can do Getz likes he's in the room, but tonight we are doing our own thing. I put in a few Evans touches, but the main phrases are mine. Zeno's bass playing is like Gomez, which is why we are doing the gig in this form. We start off with “You and the night and the Music,” then slow it down a bit with “But Beautiful.”

The bar at the Glasshouse Restaurant, is carved out of ice which must be a million years old. It has a bluish sheen and glistens where the lights hit the salts embedded in it. The temperature is constant minus 5, so we have to wear our thermal skin suits under our DJ's. These suits check the outside temperature with our normal body heat, and keep us comfortably warm. They are like a second skin and don't interfere with any of our senses, so my fingers really can feel the ivory of the keys.

Zeno does a two Minuit intro into “Blue Eyes” then I come in when she plays a walking base line as Artie weaves in between us using alternate fingering to get the octave over the normal Tenor register. It's a tour de force from him and I am content to let him swing away up there just keeping the chords coming. The people in the bar have not come to just hear us. They have come to get drunk and the background noise is begining to take over, so we take a break ourselves and retire to the Green Room. Here the ice is as it says, green. We all have a ghostly pallor cast by it. This is contrasted by red upholstery, made of some kind of soft animal skin, that could be from anywhere, but most likely grown in vats of protein on an orbiting asteroid. I flop into a high backed chair with wings sipping a highball, I picked up the Highball habit in Manhattan. Arty heads off to chat up a floosey he noticed is giving him the glad eye, leaving me alone with Zeno. When Zeno and I are alone it usually turns sexual. She slips out of her mini-dress and starts doing some yoga poses. Her thermal suit is like a second skin and leaves nothing to the imagination. She ends up in the Lotus position directly facing me.

'It's been a long time.' she says.

'since we played together, you as Ella if I recall.'

'No, since we fucked.'

'Oh that.'

'I thought you and Brian were an item now.'

'Business partners, Brian hasn't a Dick,.

'He can fuck up your brain though.'

Artie interupts us with a tall blonde in tow. She is dressed like Robin Hood in green tights, thigh boots and a jerkin made of velvet, open to the waist. Around her neck are five tight strings of pearls.

'Meet Marion', says Artie, 'she is a big fan of your piano playing, so I brought her to meet you.'

Marion bends over to shake my hand, and Artie gives me a wink and a smirk over her shoulder. He has been known to play the odd prank, and I can't quite figure this one out until Marion speaks. She has a deep voice, and the pearls are there, obviously, to hide her adams apple. I am not phased, it takes all sorts.

Zeno, asks what I am thinking.

'How do you hide your Dick.'

'I don't', says Marion. 'I really am a woman, I just had my vocal chords worked on to sound like Billy Eckstien.' And she does.

***************

Back on Mars. Getting rather bored and thinking I might just go back to Earth and sink a few Whiskeys with the Cats, when my musings are stopped by the appearance on the Vid of Guy Buddy. You remember him, the owner of Scrap World. What the fuck does he want?

Brian has turned the return signal off and is panicking.

'Don't tell him I'm here, says Brian.

'How can I do that, you are a computer immoveable, attatched to this building by bolts.'

'Yes but he doesn't know that. He thinks I am a real person.'

'Brian, you are supposed to have a brain bigger than Mars, and you haven't thought this out. If you are not a person, what is the worst he can do to you. He can't break your legs, can he?

Silence.

'What have you done that he would want to?'

'I sold him a ship to scrap, that isn't ours to sell.'

'I'm involved?'

'Well you are the titular head of Scr4pm3, and he can break your legs.'

Now I'm panicked. I can see Mr Buddy on the Vid flexing his considerable muscles and getting agitated.

'Brian take the call and tell him you will wire the money immediately.'

'It's not the money, Sir, it's the ship.'

'Yes?'

'It is an IGBI Starship, number IG 297900135, and it should have been the IG 29790013S.

'Fucking hell Brian.'

'I know, Sir.'

'Just tell him the sign writer got it wrong. I'm off to Earth.'

******************

Red is not happy that I am turning her down to go back to Earth in 1935. She can't see the attraction. All those fumes and insanitary bathrooms. I am standing in the middle of Brooklyn bridge in a thunder storm, my Saville Row cut suit and Grenson brogues not taking the soaking very well. But us Limeys are used to inclement weather. A Caddy pulls up along side and the door opens. An invitation to get in I presume.

'Sit over there and don't drip on me.' says Saul, pointing to the seats facing the wrong way. I do as he says and start to steam. Soon the windows are fogged up and Saul draws a gun in the mist. It is pointing at me.

'I get an anonymous call that you are on the bridge and have some very important information for me. So spill it.'

I stare at him blankly. Who could this snitch be. I've only been on the bridge for a few minutes. Saul adds to his art work. A circle of smoke around the business end and a bullet flying out. I decide the best way is to tell the truth or a variation of it.

'I have only been on the bridge a few minutes.'

'Look Joe, I like you, so don't piss me off.'

My mind races and from nowhere I say. 'The Man chucked me out of his Limo, the prick offered me a lift back to the French House, but decided I needed the exercise, and dumped me. He must have had it in mind all the time, and got one of his bully boys to call you. You know something I am better off in the 'Pool, hitting the keys on Lime Street, this town is a shit 'ole.'

Saul leans forward and pats me on the knee.

Relax Man, I am just passing and saw you dodging the raindrops, I'd recognise that hairdo anywhere.' You should wear a hat, like a true New Yorker.'