(no subject)

:

When I woke, the bed was empty. I don’t know why I expected it to be otherwise. I picked a foreign hair from my shoulder; its blue luster shone in the incandescent light to make it appear like some kind of living thing, not just the shed detritus of a mammal.  I bent the hair into a curve and imagined it was a smile.

 

While the quickening was still within me, I rose to challenge the day, without a pause for bathing or relief; without the effluvium of companions upon me, I was clean enough. I curtly polled the computing-appliance, improvised an itinerary, reserved tickets and transportation, and left...

 

Immediately after boarding the tram, I thought my trip would end abruptly as I experienced indigestion.  Noting my distress, another commuter helpfully pointed out the notices proclaiming that maintenance was aware of frequent maglev fluctuations and was working on the problem.  I thanked them, but it wasn’t until after I disembarked that I wondered how they knew enough about me to know I would be bothered in such a manner.

 

The computer had I deigned to visit my standing box at the Risorgimento, to catch a matinee of The Fantasticks as performed by the Hypodulian Repertory. True to my expectations, they preserved the original book, up to and including liberal use of the word “rape”. Afterwards, the Reverend M___ managed to intercept me before I could exit.  He repeated his request that I join his church’s choir, and I was too cowed to dismiss him outright, plus I did not want to miss my commute, as punctuality had been emphasized.

 

And my next commute was a new experience for me: atomic submarine to take us to the Natatoria Neptuni.  As my fellow theater-goers spent the next few hours acclimating themselves to the pressure, we were treated to a light tea. At first, I was not feeling adventurous enough to attempt any intercourse with anyone I would be unable to distance myself from for the rest of the excursion. As I replayed an earlier conversation in my head, a witty rejoinder came to me – and as I caught myself plotting ways to start the conversation again, I could imagine A___’s voice as she pointed at me and laughed: “You keep score?”

 

I summoned my resolve and managed to ingratiate myself into a game of whist. Fortunately, the game was friendly enough that my miserable playing was unnoticed.  I felt dreadfully out of practice at the art of conversation, as well, for it wasn’t until the conversation was at an end that I divined they had been discussing a recent outbreak of social disease.  I also wonder if I had offended one of them; even now, I recall my disconnection from worldliness in greater detail than I do his conversation, and it is only in hindsight that I remember his frills were engorged and crimson, which was most likely a mating display of invitation.

 

Shortly after disembarking, I discovered I had had the option of open-water seating instead of domed.  An inquiry at the concessions imparted to me the various legal forms required to obtain such tickets.  I felt rather awkward, since my robe has no pockets, nor do I carry a personal computer to handle such trivia, so I wandered about with a piece of paper in my hand.   It wasn’t until I read the playbill that I realized I hadn’t bothered to find out what we would be seeing: Peer Gynt. More Ibsen? At least this was one of the brighter ones. (I know I had not the strength for Hedda Gabler.)

 

Even with heating devices glowing in their spectra, it was all dreadfully cold.  The isles were carpeting over bare steel; the seats were metal cushioned with polyvinyl. There was constant dripping everywhere, water collected into functional but stark drains.

 

My irritation with my translator was exacerbated by its simplicity – after pushing and poking its icon-stamped buttons, I could not get the thing to work at a reasonable volume. The minutes of pride I enjoyed by crushing it to bits was displaced by hours of quiet shame.  

 

I should have declined the unnecessary thing in the first place. The production followed the original script closely enough that I followed with minimal difficulties.  Particularly noteworthy was the casting of Odontoceti as the men and Mysticeti as the trolls. At distances of less than a kilometer, the voice of the blue whale cast as the troll king could be felt through all of the bones – I imagine it was even more enjoyable without the buffer of air!  If it weren’t for the inconvenience of it all, I could easily see taking in a whole season of cetacean theater.

 

On the return, I choose to feign sleep until real sleep came, which suited me just as well. There was nothing being offered that would equal the compelling performances I had just witnessed.   When I imagined how much better it all would have been, had I brought a companion with me, I almost despaired.  Then I remembered that I would be sharing the memory of this day, and that memory was mine to share.

 

And that such a memory would be worthy of a blue smile.