I
step outside and it is raining. It is the 4 pm daily rain hour, and
pulling up beside me is Jenny, on her air board. She has her rain
shield turned on and offers me a lift.
'No thanks, your lot have just nuded my home.'
'Not us Joe you are mistaking the IGRS for the IGIA.'
'You are all fucking acronyms IGRS, IGIA, IGBI.'
'Don't be such a schmuck and hop on, I heard you're heading for the Mars Bar, and I'm going that way.' She gives me her best smile, and I remember our night of sexual high jinx, I hop on and grab her around the waist as she does an air loop with back twist, which brings my guts into my mouth, and heads west.
The Mars Bar is heaving, a little combo of three wave harps are getting into the groove. Not to my taste, too wavy, and too harpy for that matter, but the afternoon crowd seem to like it.
I order a Mars blaster for myself and Jenny wants a BloodyRsol. She waves her credit ring at the bill and says.
'My treat.' I don't argue, this is the year 40037, not 1935, when the man always picked up the tab. She folds her air board into her belt pouch and points to an empty table by the window, just vacated by a pair of gays heading, no doubt, to The Quarter. We swap pleasantries until she asks the billion dollar question.
'I thought you were on our side?'
'Who is our side?' I am four fifths down the glass, already, and the rain is still turned on.
'Mind if I get a refill?' Jenny downs her drink and I put the empties into the return scute. The refills pop up through the dispenser on the table top. Only the top bars can afford live bar staff.
She continues. 'The good guys, the IGIA, The Intergalactic Intelligence Agency.'
I splutter into my glass. 'Prove it.'
'We are the eyes and the ears of the Galactic Council. We answer to them only. We keep the Galaxy safe from the bad guys. The ones who want a world of their own at any cost. Why do you think the Galaxy has been stable for a thousand years. Not because the bad guys have all been bred out. But because we monitor everyones genes and tweek them, but a few get through in spite of us, and we have to hunt them down. We think you are mixed up with bad company. Veronica for one.'
'Is this a joke?'
'I wish it were.'
'Oh I see what is going on here. You are jealous of her. The little green thing in your head is pulling the strings. No way is Veronica a wrong un. She's been, shot and stabbed to save the galaxy.'
'Has she? She shows remarkable powers of recovery.'
'Are you saying all her injuries have been faked.'
'Don't take my word for it ask her. I am deputising you as a IGIA agent, go and ask her.'
'I have been trying to reach her for days, I don't suppose the all seeing all dancing IGBI know her whereabouts.'
'Nope, that is why we are recruiting you.'
'I don't want to be recruited, I am a piano player, not James Band.'
'Nice pun. You're wasted.' She finishes her drink and looks into the street. 'The rain has stopped, I'll be in touch.'
'I suppose a fucks out of the question?' I ask.
************
Two more Mars blasters later, I feel mellow enough to go home. The rain has sweetened the air and it is a pleasure to walk the 3 klicks to my block. In my absence the apartment has been refurbished, and there is a familiar perfumed smell that reminds me of Veronica.
Brian tells me she is in the first floor lounge. This is unfamiliar territory for me as I have never been on the first floor. I am impressed, the first floor is just one vast space with five full size grand pianos arranged in a star shape inside a circular bank of tiered seats. Under the tiers are cushioned loungers. Sitting at one is veronica. Like Monroe she is wearing perfume and nothing else. I am not one who thinks total nudity is sexy. I like something to hang my fantasies on. She stands up and puts on a long satin gown and ties the belt tightly at the waist. Thats better it's like strip tease in reverse.
'Veronica, I was only just talking about you a few moment ago.'
She puts her finger to her lips and hands me a piece of paper. It says. Your place is bugged and not just by us. She takes me by the hand and leads me back to my en suite and turns on the shower, she drops the robe and beckons me in. I quickly undress and join her. She whispers into my ear, 'If they are as good as us this will not stop them from deciphering what we say'
'Who?'
'Your new employers, the IGIA.'
'No thanks, your lot have just nuded my home.'
'Not us Joe you are mistaking the IGRS for the IGIA.'
'You are all fucking acronyms IGRS, IGIA, IGBI.'
'Don't be such a schmuck and hop on, I heard you're heading for the Mars Bar, and I'm going that way.' She gives me her best smile, and I remember our night of sexual high jinx, I hop on and grab her around the waist as she does an air loop with back twist, which brings my guts into my mouth, and heads west.
The Mars Bar is heaving, a little combo of three wave harps are getting into the groove. Not to my taste, too wavy, and too harpy for that matter, but the afternoon crowd seem to like it.
I order a Mars blaster for myself and Jenny wants a BloodyRsol. She waves her credit ring at the bill and says.
'My treat.' I don't argue, this is the year 40037, not 1935, when the man always picked up the tab. She folds her air board into her belt pouch and points to an empty table by the window, just vacated by a pair of gays heading, no doubt, to The Quarter. We swap pleasantries until she asks the billion dollar question.
'I thought you were on our side?'
'Who is our side?' I am four fifths down the glass, already, and the rain is still turned on.
'Mind if I get a refill?' Jenny downs her drink and I put the empties into the return scute. The refills pop up through the dispenser on the table top. Only the top bars can afford live bar staff.
She continues. 'The good guys, the IGIA, The Intergalactic Intelligence Agency.'
I splutter into my glass. 'Prove it.'
'We are the eyes and the ears of the Galactic Council. We answer to them only. We keep the Galaxy safe from the bad guys. The ones who want a world of their own at any cost. Why do you think the Galaxy has been stable for a thousand years. Not because the bad guys have all been bred out. But because we monitor everyones genes and tweek them, but a few get through in spite of us, and we have to hunt them down. We think you are mixed up with bad company. Veronica for one.'
'Is this a joke?'
'I wish it were.'
'Oh I see what is going on here. You are jealous of her. The little green thing in your head is pulling the strings. No way is Veronica a wrong un. She's been, shot and stabbed to save the galaxy.'
'Has she? She shows remarkable powers of recovery.'
'Are you saying all her injuries have been faked.'
'Don't take my word for it ask her. I am deputising you as a IGIA agent, go and ask her.'
'I have been trying to reach her for days, I don't suppose the all seeing all dancing IGBI know her whereabouts.'
'Nope, that is why we are recruiting you.'
'I don't want to be recruited, I am a piano player, not James Band.'
'Nice pun. You're wasted.' She finishes her drink and looks into the street. 'The rain has stopped, I'll be in touch.'
'I suppose a fucks out of the question?' I ask.
************
Two more Mars blasters later, I feel mellow enough to go home. The rain has sweetened the air and it is a pleasure to walk the 3 klicks to my block. In my absence the apartment has been refurbished, and there is a familiar perfumed smell that reminds me of Veronica.
Brian tells me she is in the first floor lounge. This is unfamiliar territory for me as I have never been on the first floor. I am impressed, the first floor is just one vast space with five full size grand pianos arranged in a star shape inside a circular bank of tiered seats. Under the tiers are cushioned loungers. Sitting at one is veronica. Like Monroe she is wearing perfume and nothing else. I am not one who thinks total nudity is sexy. I like something to hang my fantasies on. She stands up and puts on a long satin gown and ties the belt tightly at the waist. Thats better it's like strip tease in reverse.
'Veronica, I was only just talking about you a few moment ago.'
She puts her finger to her lips and hands me a piece of paper. It says. Your place is bugged and not just by us. She takes me by the hand and leads me back to my en suite and turns on the shower, she drops the robe and beckons me in. I quickly undress and join her. She whispers into my ear, 'If they are as good as us this will not stop them from deciphering what we say'
'Who?'
'Your new employers, the IGIA.'
'So
what do we do now?'
'Oh I'll think of something.'
'Oh I'll think of something.'
No comments:
Post a Comment