Again my apologies to those of you readers who had not anticipated the blogs sudden turn into a serial novella.
None of the converts are willing to talk to me but I am directed into a lavish dining room decked out with an interior of a mountain cloud forest. As much as I've always loved orchids and humidity the lush environs reminded of the horrible wars that plagued the third world. As I looked up into the interior dome I sensed the fading glimmers of the dying sun, peaking through the domed ceiling.
Gretchen is already seated at an intimate corner table. As I approach her I again start to sense that raw genius that had drawn me to her in the previous century. She wore her trademark sweater and I felt strangely at ease. I think I am hearing her thoughts. I will have gone through decades of therapy to eliminate that private insanity of "Kriyas." The popularization of the alternative medicines had made such suffering treatable. But I realize it's not me. Gretchen is telepathically pinging me. I chose to keep those skills unpublished with the hope of protecting the general populace safe from the dangers of mind abuse. It had been years since I had used this form of communication as generally for all the so called psychics, none of them were any good at it. Only my teacher and his secretary seemed to get the subtle humor that comes with real intimate understanding.
But now Gretchen was here with all my favorite macro biotic dishes. I felt her warmth for the first time since we had finished the "Mutual Profiling" app that was to be the cornerstone of both of our web industries. I had been a real pig to demand a level of un hackable security that made it necessary to take it ultimately to hard copy which won me awards for writing. But she had been left with only the unfinished web design. She did get to keep the advancements in secure fire walling, but that was all her's anyway. Coding on the computer wasn't my thing. But now I was hearing her voice, in MY head.
So I thought "I'm game," and as I sat down and was drinking in the fragrance of the meal, I imagined saying, "Que Pasa?"
"GET ME OUT OF HERE!" as loud as if she were using words. I paused to pull my chair in and looked back at her to my left, and thanked her for the hospitality. Her eyes twinkled but there is still the hint of stress behind her notorious self control. We knew each other very well. We not only supported each other through our friendship but had also been the first two humans to beta test the mutual profiling assays. The success of the programs were in their usability.
"Gretchen, you know Gunter is probably having the whole of Interpol scouring the globe for me right now, don't you know?" She assured me that Gunter was informed that I would be spending the night with her, and that I was a guest. She also clarified that there would be much I had not been told.
