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 have plagued the third world. As I looked up into the interior dome I see 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 my private insanity of "Kriyas." The popularization of alternative medicines has made such sufferings treatable. But I realize this time it's not me. Gretchen is telepathically pinging me. I chose to keep those skills unpublished with the hope of protecting the general public from the dangers of mind abuse. It had been years since I had used this form of communication and 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 psychic intimacy.
But now Gretchen was here with all my favorite macro biotic dishes. I felt her warmth for the first time since we had finished our "Mutual Profiling" app that was to be the cornerstone of both of our future web industries. I had been a real pig to demand un hackable security. That made it necessary to take it ultimately to hard copy, which won me awards for documentary writing. But she had been left with only the unfinished web designs. She did get to keep all the advancements in secure fire walling, but that was all her's anyway. Coding on the computer isn't my thing. But now I'm 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 our programs were in their usability.
"Gretchen, you know Gunter is probably having the whole of Interpol scour the globe trying to find me right now, don't you know?" She assures me that Gunter has been informed and that I would be spending the night with her, and that I was her guest. She clarified that there was much I had not been told.
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